Something Different

CODE: D (set in the D Is For Damien storyline)

TAKES PLACE DURING (specific story): Both scenes: NA

PAIRING: Lt. Terry Gardner/Marie Gardner (M/F)

EXPLANATION: See "Unsatisfied" for the other side of this story. Here is Marie, Gardner's wife, who has not been able to enjoy sex in...FIVE YEARS! Out of their SEVEN-YEAR marriage! I do not know what's wrong with her, but she's very inhibited. She understands her husband seeing other women just for sex, but it still hurts. Which is why she sees a "Dr. Hansen" for some marriage advice, and...her taking that advice leads to these scenes. Result? I like to think that Gardner no longer strayed from home, thank God.

DISCLAIMERS: Some POV problems, it seems, and I have no clue how Gardner is able to dissociate himself like that in "Unconventional," but despite being somewhat older scenes these seem relatively okay.

* * * * *

Something Different

She picked up the phone and dialed. While it was ringing she tried to force the nervousness out of her head. First of all, she had to find out if he was even there.

On the third ring the phone picked up. "Gardner," a voice said.

She had to restrain herself from letting out her breath. One down. "Hi," she said.

"Hi," he said back, sounding surprised. He evidently hadn't expected her to call him at work. "Anything wrong?"

She couldn't believe that she'd let it get this far, that if she called something had to be wrong. "No, nothing's wrong. I was just--I was just wondering if you'd like dinner at home tonight. I could make that cherry pie you like. We haven't had that in quite a while." The two of us haven't had anything together in quite a while.

A pause on the other end. She wondered if he had other plans. If he did, would he risk breaking them? For this? "All right. That sounds good." Her heart thumped. Two down. "I'm going to be stuck here till around eight. Think you can hold it till then?"

It was better than midnight. "Of course. I'll be waiting." She added this last as a bit of incentive to be home on time. She still wasn't sure if this would work.

"All right. I'll see you then."

"Bye," she said, her voice faint. She was still holding the phone when he hung up, and it buzzed in her ear. She slowly set it back in its cradle and rubbed her wedding ring between her fingers. She hoped that this would work.

* * * * *

He did show up on time, and they did enjoy the dinner. It had been quite a while, she realized, since they'd even done this; he was usually out so late at night that she'd be in bed by the time he got home. She hadn't realized how much she missed mere conversation. He talked about several cases that had been wrapped up recently, particularly the funnier ones; she found herself laughing with him, another thing she'd missed.

After dinner they both rose and started cleaning up. She found the nervousness returning. She didn't even know if she should ask him now; perhaps it had been a long day at work, perhaps he was just too tired--however, that had never been an excuse before. For anyone else. She didn't say anything--couldn't say anything--until he'd actually finished his share of the cleaning up and turned from the kitchen, to the hall. It felt as if something were squeezing her chest; she wondered if that was how being asthmatic felt. He would know. However, she knew it for what it was--plain anxiety.

Push it out, push it out. That won't help any. Concentrate. Think of something--else.

She let out her breath. It must have been loud because he stopped and looked back at her. He looked concerned. "Marie? Are you all right?"

"Yes." She took another breath and headed toward him. She had his attention, it was now or never. Once he reached the bedroom on his own she'd never be able to ask him.

"What is it?" he said as she approached.

"I was wondering--" She cut herself off. What in the world would she say? It had seemed so easy going through her head. Now that he was standing there, looking down at her, she had no idea what to do without feeling like a total idiot. Everything that Dr. Hansen had told her--all of those different positions, different ways to do it--raced through her head. Would he even consider any of that?

He was still looking at her. "I was--wondering," she forced herself to continue, before he lost interest, "I've been talking with someone, a--a doctor, of a sort," she said; the look on his face didn't change but his eyes grew slightly alarmed. Damn it, leave it to her to freak him out. "A therapist, actually," she said, hoping that wouldn't set him off even worse, and she was relieved to see the alarm fade, though it was replaced by a perplexed look. "She--I talked to her, about--us, how--" She tried to think. So hard! "You know, how we can never..." She trailed off this time, leaving it up to him to figure out what she meant. It was so obvious that she knew she didn't have to go any further anyway. Finding that she was wringing her hands, she stopped. "I was wondering, if you'd--if you'd like to try. Again." Before he could say anything she plunged ahead. "She said maybe, maybe it's not really anything wrong with me or anything, maybe I just--need to try something else. Ahm..." She started wringing her hands again. "Like--something different, maybe. Then maybe I could--you know--" She suddenly burst into nervous, helpless laughter. "Listen to me," she gasped, wiping at her streaming eyes. "I can't even say the damn words."

He stood there while she sighed and attempted to compose herself again. When she looked at him again he seemed slightly shocked, as if she'd said something horrible. She knew that it was more like surprise. He definitely hadn't expected her to tell him that she wanted to go to bed with him. Not his wife.

He cocked his head, a half-shake. Confused looking. "Marie..." It came out half a question, half an exclamation, as if he couldn't make up his mind what to feel. Yes, she'd truly surprised him this time.

"I really want to try," she said, stepping forward. She was still squeezing her hands but it didn't matter. "I want to see if it can work. Just to tell if it isn't me."

A very long, awkward pause. She found herself quailing inside, wondering if perhaps he just wasn't interested anymore. That was quite likely. She knew that he must have been with much more attractive women than her. Quite recently, too.

After a while, however, the look on his face softened, and he reached out and brushed back her hair, touching her face. The look seemed slightly sympathetic yet it gave her hope. Maybe, maybe he was still interested in trying...

She stepped forward again, closing the gap between them. There was another awkward pause. They finally came to a stalemate and both gave in, moving forward slightly until their mouths touched. An old, familiar ache started down inside her. That was normal; she'd never had any problems with that. It was what came later on that had her worried. Nevertheless, she had to find out.

Three down, she thought vaguely as he kissed her. By the time she found herself in the bedroom with him she couldn't remember just how they'd gotten there; she'd been too preoccupied wondering what she wanted to do. Dr. Hansen's suggestions raced through her head again. Her on top? Sitting upright? Behind?--even as she thought this she knew the answer.

The question was, would he go along?

They were at the bed, sitting down on it. His kiss was becoming more demanding; she'd forgotten how he could be, and remembered why she hadn't been very surprised on finding out that he'd been with someone else. The ache was growing deeper, and with it, the fluttering in her chest. She couldn't believe how anxious and tensed up she was.

When he broke the kiss she brushed back her hair nervously, just to give her hand something to do. "I--uh--" She took a breath to steady herself. "I was wondering if we could try--a different way, maybe." He was still looking at her, his breath coming soft in his throat. She tried to think of which way excited her the most. "--From behind? I know it sounds, I know it sounds kind of strange, but I thought maybe we could try that..." She trailed off again and tried to judge his reaction from the look in his eyes, but found that it was too dark to do so. He stared at her for a moment, unspeaking, until she saw a faint smile spread across his face in the dimness. Relief washed over her. He didn't look as if the idea had turned him off any.

Four down.

He started kissing her again. She responded this time. When they climbed into the bed, only then did she realize that she was still clothed. She cursed inwardly at her silly oversight but he wasn't making any move to undress himself, either.

Clothed?

The idea sent an extra thrill through her. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea, after all.

She turned away from him--only after he himself had broken away--going over the drawing that Dr. Hansen had shown her in her head. She laid her head and upper chest down on the bed as shown, leaving her knees bent behind her. It felt slightly awkward, yet just thinking about how she must look caused her breath to start coming faster.

He backed away. Alarm stabbed through her mind. Had it turned him off, after all? She couldn't believe that he would lead her on like this only to turn away. That was never like him. Going with other women, yes; turning her away, no. That wasn't him.

Yet a moment later he leaned over her slightly, and she realized what he was doing. He had a pillow in his hand; he had her lift her head and placed it under her. The alarm was replaced by surprise--he was accommodating her, so she wouldn't be uncomfortable. The pillow did help; it made it easier for her to breathe, for one thing. The ache inside her was still going strong; so far, so good.

He bent over and nuzzled her neck, then pulled away again. She waited, and in a moment felt him reach around under her to undo the buckle on her pants. Her breathing increased again; she actually felt dizzy. Please, don't let me pass out, she prayed silently. Not after all this. He pulled her pants and underwear down to her knees; in her position he couldn't take them off entirely. He didn't reach for her shirt; it was as if he could sense that leaving it on was more of a stimulation for her. She'd always thought of it being done fully undressed; breaking a rule like this, no matter how little, was still exciting for her.

She heard him unbuckling his own belt. It was all that she could do not to start whimpering. He hadn't even touched her yet! This had to be a good sign. Maybe Dr. Hansen had been right after all. However, she couldn't get ahead of herself. Yet.

A moment later he leaned over her again, and she could hear that he was panting. Her idea had obviously excited him too. She found it hard to believe that all these years she'd never even considered this because she thought it would disgust him. What other things could he be doing away from home?

It startled her; thinking about that turned her on, too.

He touched her briefly, as if assuring her that he was ready; she brought one hand up to her mouth, just in case she felt a scream coming on. A split second later it occurred to her--why stop it? She moved her hand away.

Now she heard the bed creak slightly as he moved, and felt his hands on the curve of her buttocks; she started a little, unused to the feeling. She'd never done this before--if anyone would have suggested it a year ago, she'd have turned away, shocked and embarrassed. Yet she stayed, and wondered only a little how he'd learned to do it this way. He was separating her gently; why had she never thought of that? And then his warmth against her, and a hardness; she started again. He touched her knees, having her spread her legs slightly. She would have been embarrassed again realizing that she hadn't been accommodating him hadn't she felt so delirious. She obeyed. It occurred to her that he was positioning her so he could enter; the way they'd done it before, he'd never had to do that. This position evidently entailed more concentration than it had seemed.

Once more he leaned over her, his hands now coming to rest on the front of her thighs, keeping her separated. She felt his hardness again, throbbing against her bare skin. The breath was coming fast in his throat--as it was in hers. Keeping a good hold on her thighs, he placed himself directly behind her, bowing over her as he pushed inside.

A startled gasp escaped her throat. It had, after all, been about five years. She wasn't used to the strong throbbing that she felt inside, both his and hers; she gasped again when he moved, pulling away slightly and reentering. There was a brief pause during which she assumed that he was getting used to the feeling as well; then he started moving again. When he pushed inside his fingers gripped her thighs tighter; when he pulled out his hold loosened. She couldn't prevent a whimper from escaping; the ache inside her was growing painful now, a searing flame. Even before she'd stopped being able to climax she'd never felt this, not this strong. She wondered dimly if it were the position they were in, the fact that they were still clothed, that it had been so long, or maybe all of these reasons--

She didn't think about that for long. He pressed inside again, his hands running up to her pelvis. His breathing was harsh; she hoped that he wouldn't have an attack right now. Yet he seemed to be handling it. She gasped and jerked slightly. As if in response she felt his hands trail toward the mound between her legs; she gasped again. No one had ever said anything about that! He raked his fingers lightly through her hair and she moaned. This all seemed so forbidden; maybe that was why it was turning her on so.

She noticed that he was beginning to move faster, pushing in and pulling out, pushing in and pulling out, gripping her thighs tightly. His breath was now coming in short, quick gasps. So was hers. He was thrusting now, plunging quicker and harder inside her. There was a slight creak from the bed each time they moved. This time she did bite her hand, whimpering, trying to will back the scream that she felt rising in her throat. It wouldn't be proper to scream, like some wild animal; yet wasn't what they were doing just like--

His fingers sank into her skin and he gasped and cried out. She cried out as well, biting it off. She hadn't expected to hear any sound coming from him; it had never occurred to her. She'd always pictured him being completely in control, even with other women; it had never occurred to her that he too could succumb to any feelings of passion that he might have. Even if that was what had driven him to meet those other women.

He pressed himself down and over her back, so she could feel his breath on her neck, hot and fast, rasping in his throat. She murmured and tossed her head on the pillow. He was moving rapidly, thrusting hard and almost frenziedly, panting and groaning now as he did so; when was the last time he'd been with someone, anyway? Surely not that long; then some of this passion must be for real--

He suddenly gripped her thighs, his fingers sinking in again, jerking up and into her. A strangled noise between a cry and a moan escaped him; his hands moved to her pelvis again and she felt him release, hot fluid spurting inside her. At the same moment she felt a snap and wave after wave of indescribable feeling washed over her; she cried out again, not believing the sheer pleasure that sped all through her body. It was something she'd never quite felt before. Not even when they were first married. She continued gasping at the air but no sound came out. It was as if the heat that she'd felt inside had burst upon her, bathing her in glorious flame. It was almost painful in its magnificence. She felt overwhelmed.

After a moment his hardness began to subside. They were both panting heavily, his breath still hoarse; dizzy, she felt him touch her thighs again, drawing them apart, and slowly pulling himself out. She couldn't even move, the feeling had exhausted her so. She was still trying to recover when she felt him touch her face gently. Only then did she struggle to sit up, which was slightly difficult as her pants were still bunched around her knees. It didn't matter, though; he took her face in his hands and kissed her before she could say anything. Her arms, readying to reach for her clothing, sank; she grew lightheaded sitting there, her husband touching her--her husband, touching her. Of course, he had touched her in the past five years; but never with such passion as that. She just couldn't believe that it had worked.

Five down.

Her head finally began to clear. She took a deep breath to steady herself again. He broke away, brushing back her damp hair and studying her face in the dim light. She wondered if he found her attractive. Even after seven years. Five of those years practically apart.

He smiled at her, barely visible, continuing to caress her face and neck. "You should go to the doctor more often," he finally said, softly. She blinked, not realizing that it was a joke; he laughed at the look on her face even as she flushed and started laughing too. She finally noticed the look in his eyes--even in this darkness she could see it--they were glazed, as if desire still swirled through his mind. For once she didn't find herself doubting that it did.

So would he keep going out at night? While she was at home? She couldn't convince herself that he wouldn't. Yet that look in his eyes, and the memory of that feeling that had passed over her--after so long--she couldn't help but tell herself that Dr. Hansen had been right--it was change that she needed, pure and simple--and maybe a change, from all of those faceless women back to her, would be what he wanted as well.

Unconventional

Terry smiled at her. "You liked it the last time."

She flushed and smiled back.

"Like an animal."

She flushed harder and giggled. He tipped her chin up, still grinning.

"How would you like it this time?"

"I don't know...I really liked it last time."

"But you don't want to get bored again," he chided. "Let's compromise. Follow me."

She took his hand and he led her to the bathroom, stepping inside and into the shower. She gaped at him in disbelief.

"In here?"

He smiled again. "Unconventional, isn't it?"

Her heart thudded. She climbed in to join him, standing next to the wall.

He turned to her and started unbuttoning her shirt. She automatically did the same for him. They discarded their clothes over the edge of the tub, and he faced her again. She was looking away.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

She flushed a third time. "Nothing, really..."

He touched her face. "Don't be afraid to look at me, Marie. I'm your husband."

Her face was bright red. "I know. I..."

"Come on," he coaxed. He took her hand. "Touch me."

Bright red.

He smiled gently. "Then look at me first."

Reluctantly, she obeyed, her eyes drifting down. The blush wouldn't leave her face, yet she seemed fascinated. He knew that she'd never really looked at him before.

"You don't need to be embarrassed." He guided her hand, placing her fingers around him. She flinched almost imperceptibly.

She caught his grin. "Let's see what you can do," he said.

She was almost quailing inside, her heart fluttering. "Like what?"

"Whatever you want. But it's up to you to get this started."

A long pause. Finally she began to run her hand up and down, slowly and unsurely. When he began to harden into an erection she nearly backed away again. So easy! Why was it so difficult for her?

His breathing was slightly faster. He kissed her, turning her around to face the wall. She put her hands up against the tiles and realized that he was, as before, going to enter her from behind--yet standing this time.

She shivered and moaned softly. He kissed her neck and ran his hands up to her breasts. She let out a gasp; that was something he hadn't done before either. There were so many things that the two of them had never done together. She was surprised that he had this much in him that he'd never even shown her.

Then again, it was never as if she could respond, before.

She laid her head against the tiles, aching inside, as his tongue traced over her ear. She'd been taught to believe that anything like this was dirty. Then why did it all feel so good--?

He moved behind her, and she could feel him breathing against the back of her neck. He brought his hands down, caressing her buttocks; she sucked in her breath, arching her neck. He shifted, reaching in front of her, over her hips; she flinched slightly at the feel of his fingers, down between her legs. She was throbbing down there; at his touch she moved so that she stood with her feet planted far apart. She was breathing heavily. The tiles felt cool against her skin.

He could tell that she was ready. It was almost too easy to excite her now, quite unlike five years ago, when she'd stopped responding at all; that had frustrated him so much that he'd had to find what he needed elsewhere. He'd never stopped being faithful to her, at least in his heart; but she hadn't been able to give him that one thing. Now, however, was much different. He knew how to excite her--all this time it had been variety that she'd needed. That was why he'd suggested such an unusual place and position; he knew that, like before, she would find it stimulating.

Breathing hard, he kept his hands pressed against her front, spreading his legs slightly to keep his balance, and moved up close. He sucked in his breath and pushed slowly inside, feeling her soft and smooth against his aching hardness. Deep inside he was glad that she'd had that talk with the therapist; it was sometimes hard to find someone both willing and able with his hours, yet with her he could release himself every night--it was what he wanted, and as far as he could tell it was what she wanted, too.

She had her head tipped against the wall, her eyes shut. She was biting her lip. When he moved slightly she whimpered. He understood. Shifting again, keeping his hands pressed against her where her lower belly met her legs, he pushed upward, clenching his teeth. Marie gasped, her chest heaving. Feet firmly planted, he began to thrust, pressing against her hips as he went deeper inside. She hissed; her fingers raked the tiles. He was throbbing hard, painful; he dropped his head, panting harshly. His own fingers sank into her skin as he began to thrust faster, his own buttocks contracting. There was a swirling in his head; it was as if he were floating higher, looking down on himself and his wife struggling in the shower, she pressed against the wall moaning as he ground into her, moving harder and faster. He could see the sweat on his own face, his teeth as they clenched shut, his fingers squeezing her and the jerking of his muscles as he thrust upward; he could also see her face and breasts pressed against the shower wall, her fingers clawing the tiles, her back arching, her buttocks rubbing against him the faster he moved. Her eyes were closed and her mouth open; she was gasping at the air, moaning his name.

"Terry..." He brought his hands to her waist as if hugging her, in reality gripping her tighter as he increased the speed of his strokes. She gasped again, throwing back her head. "Ahhh! Terry!"

Her cry echoed off of the walls. He was breathing so hard that he couldn't respond. He dropped his head against her shoulder, gritting his teeth, still seeing them writhing together in the shower, their movements growing frenzied. Her own buttocks contracted against him with each thrust; crying out, she pulled one hand away from the wall, caressing him behind her, his muscles spasming beneath her touch. His grip around her waist grew even tighter. His hips were grinding against her now; gasping for breath, he could feel the sweat dripping down his face.

"Aaahhh!" Marie's voice rose, her head falling back as she gasped at the air. Clasping her tight, he grunted and plunged upward hard. He spurted inside her and gasped at the shock as the painful hardness began dying away. "Oh God!" she screamed at his final thrust; she jerked, her whole body thrumming as his fluid released inside. When the flow ceased he let out his breath, a harsh rattle in his throat; Marie moaned and began to slide down the wall, exhausted. He pulled out and managed to catch her before she fell; the two of them sank down into the tub together. He could still see them as if from above, at least in his head--she huddled against the edge of the tub, he beside her, one arm draped over her shoulders, his head tipped to hers, as they sat waiting to recover. It was a while before his head began to clear; she attempted to catch her breath as it gradually slowed. Even after they were both breathing normally they still sat, heads touching. She opened her eyes to look at him. His eyes were still closed and it looked as if he were asleep; yet a moment later, as if realizing that she was watching him, they opened and he smiled at her. She gave a soft laugh, caressing his face.

"I wish we'd done this before," she said.

Still with that grin, he replied, "You wouldn't have gone for it."

Looking slightly embarrassed. "That much is true."

When she caught his eyes again his grin was truly dirty. "Like to go for seconds?" he queried.

Her heart thumped again. Her eyes must have widened because he laughed. "After all that?"

"It's up to you. But I could sure use it."

A pause. She finally smiled back, the color creeping into her cheeks. "If it's what you could use, I shouldn't refuse it."

He took her face and kissed her, his tongue gently probing her mouth. He leaned back in the tub, taking her with him. Murmuring, she followed, pulling a leg over his. It had only been about fifteen minutes since their last act; yet already the throbbing was back in both of them. She didn't need to stroke him this time; he was already hard by the time she'd placed herself above his hips, slowly moving against him, up and down. When she thought about it it seemed like a waste that they'd even waited to catch their breath; both of them were panting again already!

"If we keep this up we'll run out of ideas by next week," she said, a false complaint.

"I guess we'll just have to keep thinking up new things," he replied, but his voice was hoarse. She felt a pang deep inside; all of this must be hard on him with his asthma. She couldn't help worrying that he'd suffer an attack right in the middle of things. But, as if to assuage that fear, he grinned up at her, bringing her head down and kissing her again. She felt her fear melting away.

He's handled it pretty well so far. I don't see what one more round could do.

He moved his hands down to stroke her buttocks, and when she moved he pulled them carefully apart, separating her again. She reached down, completely unafraid now, and took him in her hands, bringing herself up and into position, then lowering so he penetrated her. A pleasurable thrill ran through her.

"Do you know what I do?" he said suddenly.

She opened her eyes. She hadn't expected him to speak, and it was evidently more than a little difficult for him to do so. His eyes were glazed as he touched her face.

"No. What?"

"Try to picture us," he said, brushing back her hair. "Try to look down on us and see what we're doing. Like you're someone else."

She didn't even have to try; at his words the image came unbidden into her mind. It made her gasp; there was her husband, lying back in the tub smiling at her, and herself, splayed over him, looking down into his face as her hands trailed down his chest. Her heartbeat increased dramatically.

She kissed him and began to move. He clutched her thighs and moved as well, his hips pumping up into her. She could feel his heat, where their bodies met; with a moan she brought her hands down to his hips, throwing back her head and squeezing, trying to pull him deep inside.

"T-touch me, Terry," she whispered, panting. "Please."

He responded by taking her buttocks in his hands. She let out a long moan as he gasped at the air, his hips rolling, throbbing and thrusting up into her.

From above, looking down--herself, moaning and writhing, her husband, hips bucking upwards, fingers sinking into her skin as he pulled her down. His breathing was quick and erratic; when she moved he jerked, at one point throwing back his head and groaning, biting off his cry abruptly and whipping his head to the side. He grabbed her hips and suddenly began thrusting harder, faster. She cried out, moving rapidly with him. He tipped his head forward, eyes shut tight, teeth clenched; he was no longer groaning but with each thrust he let out a small grunt, as the pressure increased and the two of them moved faster, she panting and moaning, he moving, hard and frantic, desperate with the tightness and the aching, pounding throb inside him as he plunged--

She saw him buck upwards, crying out as he clawed her hips; she screamed in response, her thighs pressing against him. After his release he sank back, panting and shaking; she sank down over him, dropping her head on his chest, her own chest heaving. The image faded from her head as she came back and found herself close against him; he was hot and trembling slightly as if in exhaustion. She knew that it was. Still breathing hard, she slowly rose and lifted herself off of him, nearly collapsing at his side in the small space. She felt another pang hearing him try to breathe; it was evident that he was only doing so with difficulty. She moved closer, ready to ask if she should go get his inhaler; he smiled faintly at her and touched her face, drawing her close beside him and kissing her forehead.

"I wonder what's on the menu for tomorrow night," he finally managed to say, his voice cracking.

"Maybe I should get you to bed," she said, trying to keep the worry out of her voice.

His mouth twisted, truly diabolical. "You really are getting too much of this on your mind."

She pushed him away. "Not like that!"

He nodded as he tried to get up, still slightly weak. "I know. Maybe we should go someplace more 'decent.'"

She tried to keep her face serious but ended up laughing. As soon as he was on his feet she gathered their clothes, throwing his to hit him in the chest. She turned to walk out of the bathroom first, which was a mistake as he simply reached out and pinched her. She squealed, swatting at him with her shirt, and the two of them laughed as they went down the hallway.

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This item is not looking for critique. It was written solely for entertainment's sake. Although a scene from a possibly longer story, it is complete in itself and unless otherwise stated there is not going to be any more of it written. Additional unrelated SCENES may be written, but single scenes themselves are complete as they are. So please do not expect more. If you are interested in reading the series which INSPIRED the scene, just look elsewhere in my portfolio and you should find something. (Use the "story codes" given in the scene headers. For example, "MI" = "Manitou Island" series.)

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Feel free to criticize, but just keep in mind that I'm working on more important projects and shared this just for fun and/or to illustrate character interactions, so I don't plan to revise it any time soon. Comments on the characters, theme, etc. are more than welcome.