Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Mine. ❯ Wet. ( Chapter 3 )

Warnings: Shounen-ai, yaoi, slash, however you want to classify it, bad language, a Gayla… That's about it.

 

Pairing: I think you can guess.

 

Disclaimer: I don't own anything pertaining to Final Fantasy 8, but I do own Jirrah, Shir'nis, Whipcrack (their personalities at least) and this plot. I don't do this for profit, so don't sue me, because all I have is a numb butt (from this uni comp chair) and several used bus tickets.

 

Author's Notes: I hate uni. I hate Bendigo, wherein I attend uni. It is cold, it is wet, and did I mention, it is cold? I do not, however, hate this fic. I love it. I especially love Jirrah. If anyone feels inclined to make me a Jirrah-plushie go right ahead. ;)

 

As before, anything marked /thus/ is native-speak.

 

Mine.- KittyMeowMaxwell.

 

Chapter Three - Wet.

 

Irvine stirred very slowly the next morning and snuggled deeper inside the soft, earthy-smelling furs, feeling Jirrah's little static-cling hairs all up his stomach and chest. The Gayla gave off an enormous amount of heat and Irvine thought he could quite happily drift off again, so warm and soft was his new bed.

 

But curiosity worried at his mind as well and he soon opened his eyes to see if Zell was around. He remembered falling asleep last night with the native's hand warm and gentle in his hair.

 

The fire was banked, still glowing, and Zell was nowhere to be seen, but Irvine found his interest taken by the various things around the cave. There was a row of new-looking darts along one wall, laid out on the cave floor. They weren't feathered yet, so Irvine supposed that must be a job Zell hadn't done yet. A bow hung on an exposed root, a quiver of chocobo-feathered arrows set below it. Several woven, extremely beautiful rugs softened the rough walls. There was only one fur on the other side of the glowing coals, and Irvine wondered at the fact that the native had only used the one, while he left an entire pile of them for him.

 

Nowhere could he see his clothes or his gun.

 

A low wark sounded outside, and Irvine recognised it.

 

“Whipcrack,” he whispered.

 

He stroked his hand down Jirrah's spine, and mimicked the massage Zell had showed him the evening before. It took him longer to do it just right, but eventually the Gayla made his unique purring sound and retracted the static hairs. Irvine chuckled and slipped out of the furs, leaving Jirrah wrapped up tight. He took just one for himself, a huge, soft Snow Lion pelt. He'd only seen one before, and he would never forget how it shifted from blinding white to ice-blue in different lights. He'd seen it in an exceedingly rich rancher's entryway when his father had taken him there on business. He wondered how Zell got this one. It was terribly warm, he thought as he drew it around his shoulders and snuggled into it. The rough blanket he gladly left behind.

 

He still shivered in the fresh cold of the morning, mist swirling around his bare feet and dampening his loosed hair. But… he felt a freedom that was strange to him. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't even lonely. The wilderness sang to him and he relished the realisation that there would be no chores and especially no cows today.

 

Whipcrack warked madly when he caught sight of the cowboy and Irvine grinned, heading over to the golden bird. He held the fur tight around himself with one hand and lifted the other to rub vigorously between Whipcrack's eyes, the way he really liked it. The bird gave a long, soft kweh from the back of his throat, eyes half-closing, and Irvine laughed.

 

“Yeah, darlin'. I'm still here. You sure look happy enough.”

 

There came a hard nudge at his back and Irvine looked over his shoulder, blinking several times when his eyes lit on what could only be Zell's chocobo. No chocobo Irvine had ever seen had been anything but canary-yellow, but this one was all white and brown patches.

 

“Well aren't you the pretty thing?” he said, transferring his hand to the other bird's forehead.

 

Whipcrack didn't like that and he protested vocally, nipping at Irvine's hair.

 

“Hey, you. Listen here. You can just be patient.”

 

Irvine studied the two-coloured chocobo, judging by the size of its crest and the feathers of its tail that it was a female. (1) Whipcrack actually pulled, then, and Irvine yelped.

 

“Whipcrack! You're askin' for it. She's a lady. That means you oughta do the gentlemanly thing and let her get all the attention! I'd pat both of you, but then I'd be, like, standin' here naked, `cause I'd have no hand to hold the fur with!”

 

Zell's chocobo made a soft sound suddenly and slipped away from him. Irvine turned, following her with his eyes and found the native standing there, watching him. He smiled, a little hesitant. He still wasn't sure what Zell was going to do. Maybe his captor - such as he was - wouldn't be pleased that Irvine had left the cave.

 

He didn't seem upset, though. He simply lifted a hand, indicating the bird who was nipping affectionately at the feathers in his hair.

 

“Shir'nis,” he said.

 

“That's her name?”

 

Zell cocked his head and pointed to Irvine's chocobo.

 

“Whipcrack,” he said, which surprised Irvine, because he knew he hadn't told the native his chocobo's name. Then Zell was pointing to the female again. “Shir'nis.”

 

“Yes! Good. That's her name. She's gorgeous. I've never seen one like that before.”

 

Zell smiled, then came over and touched Irvine's fingers where they held the fur closed at the front. Irvine blinked, confused. When Zell started to pry his fingers open, one by one, he flushed and backed away two steps, only to get a cocked head and blinking sapphire eyes. Then, Zell turned and started off the way he had come, pausing to look over his shoulder when Irvine didn't follow. There was another tattoo spread over his left shoulder-blade.

 

Well. Come on, his eyes said.

 

Irvine blinked some more, but his curiosity was piqued, so he followed, footsteps light in the dawn hush. Compared to Zell's, however, he sounded like a herd of chocobos charging in for their feed. The man was as bare-foot as Irvine was, but there was no sound from his feet.

 

Zell lead him through trees more dense than he was used to, the shelter and slightly wetter climate provided by the lower reaches of these mountains providing the necessary elements for better growth. Irvine looked around, finding a still beauty in the forest that was like the beauty he found in the sunset. Then they stepped through the tree-line and into a clearing.

 

Irvine gasped, and that seemed to amuse Zell. They had come to a lake of the clearest water the cowboy had ever seen. A slow trickling waterfall burbled down several levels of cliffside to make its leisurely way into the lake which steamed in the cool air. Irvine could only surmise it was also fed from somewhere underground, water heated by nature's design. He'd heard of hot-springs before, but never seen one.

 

Zell wasted no time unlacing his one scrap of clothing and putting it aside before he stepped fearlessly into the water, but Irvine was slower. With any other man, he wouldn't hesitate to hop on in, but this man, this native, had already behaved strangely and the water would afford no obscurity whatsoever. It was clear as crystal. Irvine could see all the way to Zell's feet, despite the fact that he was, by now, in chest-deep.

 

When he realised Irvine wasn't moving, Zell turned.

 

- - - - - - -

 

Zell, for his part, couldn't fathom why on earth the cowboy was standing there as though he were afraid Zell were going to leap on him and swallow him whole. Well, he thought, he was. But he wasn't so rude as to do so now, and besides, he couldn't breathe well enough underwater to make any sort of swallowing possible or enjoyable for either of them.

 

He saw Irvine studying him - all of him - and that much was good, but he knew the cowboy would still smell of the girl, and he couldn't have that. He would take the pelt and throw Irvine in if he had to. The water was warm, it felt good to be in. Couldn't the cowboy understand that…?

 

Zell cocked his head, because the movement had seemed to work so far, and he lifted a hand out of the steaming water, beckoning. He saw Irvine swallow and take a step forward, but still he hesitated.

 

As much as he looked exceedingly delectable standing there on the bank with fog and steam wafting around him and his hair shifting slightly in a gentle breeze, Zell was getting impatient. Irvine wasn't playing by the rules. Ah! But! Here, he had to be careful. Irvine didn't know the rules. He must remember that. This was no member of his own people, but a different man who needed to be educated.

 

Zell came forward and strode out of the water, knowing the way it sluiced off his body complimented him perfectly. He went to Irvine with a no-nonsense gait, an easy grace to his movements that he caught the cowboy watching. There was a knowledge there. An understanding in those sky-eyes that there was something he was missing, something he didn't know about, but felt. Irvine understood that much.

 

Zell wanted to kiss him, because the way he stood with his lips slightly parted and his hair framing his face silently begged for it. But not yet. Not just yet. Zell could be patient. He would be.

 

It was easy to make Irvine let go of the fur. All Zell had to do was take hold of the blue-white and tug it away from the gripping fingers. The cowboy was no match for his strength. He dropped the pelt pointedly to pool around Irvine's feet and made sure to flex his muscles, showing off shamelessly. Impressing Irvine was very important. He gave the cowboy's hand a tug in the direction of the lake, then strutted off himself, diving in this time, his body one smooth line.

 

Yes. Watch me. I am strong and powerful.

 

Irvine finally followed, stepping slowly into the water as Zell surfaced, his hair now hanging in his face. Zell smiled and the cowboy smiled back, hesitant, but curious. Curiosity, Zell thought, would be what kept Irvine here above all else. If he could continue to show new things and new places, the cowboy would want to stay, and the longer he stayed, the more Zell would be able to coax understanding from him.

 

For he must understand, eventually, that he belonged to Zell.

 

And if he did leave, then Zell would bring him back, no matter how long he had to wait for another opportunity to do so. Again and again, until he understood.

 

Come, Zell said with his eyes and his hands. Come to me.

 

Again, Irvine hesitated, but Zell supposed that was only natural. After all, he was imposing and dangerous. But he would never hurt the cowboy. He smiled reassuringly when Irvine started towards to him, and found that there was a ready smile for him on the other man's lips. Already, he was responding.

 

“You look different,” Irvine said - he seemed to feel some need to fill any silence or still moment with speech. It seemed to make him nervous if no one spoke. “With your hair down, I mean.”

 

And he reached out and touched it. Zell let him. He would let Irvine do anything, as long as it wasn't leaving or going to someone else. After a moment, Zell returned the favour, smoothing his fingers through Irvine's hair like he had the night before.

 

Irvine's eyes flickered half-shut and his hand fell back to his side. Zell liked that. He liked being able to reduce the cowboy to nothing but reactions with a mere touch of his hand. He wanted more, but he reminded himself again that he must be patient. Still…

 

“/I want to make you mine, Irvine. I want you to know it. I want everyone to know it, so no one else may touch you, especially females. Especially the one you're washing away now./”

 

Irvine frowned, obviously wondering what Zell was saying, and his eyes opened again. He knew whatever it was, he was being spoken directly to. Of course he could understand his own name, in among the other words Zell used.

 

“/It's alright. It's better this way. I can say whatever I want to without frightening you off./”

 

He smiled and the cowboy gave him one in return, though it was a little uncertain.

 

“/Ah! I want to kiss you. You're too beautiful for words./”

 

Zell lowered his hand and stepped back, before his body got the better of his iron control. He didn't even attempt to hide his slow examination of everything the cowboy had to offer. When his eyes came back to Irvine's, there was a mixture there of nervousness and uncertainty, hope and fear. Zell grinned. His pretty cowboy wanted to be wanted, whether he was consciously aware of it or not.

 

They both looked over to the bank at the sound of a splash. It was Shir'nis, tailed closely by Jirrah. The chocobo went right under until there was nothing of her above the water, then she broke the surface, shaking her head-feathers free of water before she strode over to them. Jirrah was more graceful. He slid into the water with barely a ripple and his body waved along under the clear surface until he could wrap himself around Irvine and climb up his body.

 

“/Ai. He likes you,/” Zell said, with a rueful grin, but Irvine wasn't listening. He had found a way to make the Gayla laugh. Or at least, something like a laugh.

 

He was tickling at the junction between fin and neck and the wet purr Jirrah usually made was broken into a series of short sounds remarkably like laughter. Zell watched them, head cocked. Even he had never discovered this quirk. He wondered, suddenly, if Irvine were ticklish…

 

- - - - - - -

 

Irvine couldn't stop laughing at Jirrah, especially when his tickling resulted in the Gayla letting go and falling into the water with a plash far less graceful than his previous entry. Shir'nis came to see what was so funny and then grew jealous that Jirrah was getting all the attention. She began to nip at Irvine's hair, trying to gain his attention.

 

Zell appeared, then, shooing both animals, and they went, content to chase each other around in the water. The sharpshooter couldn't help but smile at him. There was a magnetism to him that Irvine had already felt, but became acutely aware of with the native standing there completely devoid of clothing and with the intent look of study on his face he often seemed to wear. He was so wild and dangerous. When Irvine let himself think about it, it made his breath catch and his stomach do a strange flip-and-dip that left his libido stirring gently.

 

That scared him. No one should react to a man like that unless they were a woman, and Irvine certainly wasn't a woman.

 

He snapped out of his thoughts when Zell's hands came to his sides, and before he could open his mouth to ask what was going on, the native began to tickle him.

 

“Oh! N-no! Zell! Quit it!” he cried, kicking and squirming already, laughter on his lips.

 

Zell only grinned and tickled more.

 

“Zell! Oh, Hyne, no! Quiiit it!”

 

Irvine thrashed in the water, finally getting a foot against Zell's thigh and pushing himself away. He turned over in the water and fled across the crystal warmth, hearing Zell leap into instant pursuit. He laughed merrily, and heard the native's laugh join his own, which only made him want to laugh more - so he did, swimming as fast as he could.

 

He made it to a rock jutting up out of the steaming water and started to scramble up it, but Zell's strong hand wrapped around his ankle and dragged him back in with an almighty splash, arms going around his waist and hands tickling at his sides again. He squirmed and wriggled against the native's water-slick skin, several times convinced he was almost free, only to have Zell readjust his grip and hold him the tighter.

 

Eventually, Irvine gave up struggling and hung in Zell's arms, panting and giggling alternately. He found the random bursts of giggles that escaped him terribly embarrassing, but found he couldn't stop them, because Zell was still tickling.

 

“Mercy,” he begged. “Mercy, mercy. I know you can't understand me, but mercy!” he managed, nearly out of breath.

 

Thankfully, Zell stopped and Irvine could finally relax, forehead against a strong shoulder.

 

“Evil,” he accused. “You're evil.”

 

Zell let him go and patted his head, grinning, then climbed up on the rock Irvine had tried to escape to. Irvine followed, but the native gave his shoulder a light push and he fell back again, surfacing with a splutter and a mock-glare. Zell grinned mischievously. That turned into another game, where they each attempted to shove each other off the rock or get onto it. Zell won more often than not, and that seemed to please him. Certainly, he spent a lot of time posing atop the rock and showing off his - admittedly quite impressive - muscles.

 

Finally, Irvine found himself a hand-hold that couldn't be shifted and managed to cling to the rock for long enough that Zell got bored with the game and dove back into the water, striking out towards where Irvine's fur lay. The sharpshooter perched where he was, watching the way the water flowed over Zell's body, and then ran free of it when he strode out. He caught himself licking his lips and forced his eyes to look elsewhere, flushing.

 

His heart was beating a little faster and he shivered. That, he could put down to a gentle breeze teasing at his wet skin, but even he knew that was a flimsy excuse. But, an excuse for what? What was going on?

 

Zell turned towards him as he tied the loincloth around his hips and seemed surprised to find that he was still perched on the rock. He beckoned to the cowboy and then stood, hands on hips, quite obviously expecting to be obeyed. He was an arrogant man if nothing else. Irvine felt somewhat like a pet or a damned chocobo.

 

He rides his chocobo… some snide little part of his mind reminded him and that stir deep in his belly shifted again. He flushed and dove quickly into the water to hide it, swimming over to the bank and scrambling out. Zell offered the fur again and Irvine gladly took it, wrapping it around his body and snuggling into it. The native smiled indulgently, then turned and headed off through the trees.

 

Irvine found his gaze drawn by the flex of muscle beneath lightly tanned skin. It made his mouth go dry. He couldn't keep from smiling, because the prospect of a few days with Zell was far more appealing than the prospect of cow-chores.

 

- - - - - - -

 

Seifer wasn't at all surprised when Irvine's mother turned up on the doorstep the next morning. He had nothing to tell her, though. He had suspicions, but nothing concrete.

 

He'd gone up to have a look around, and found chocobo tracks, but that was to be expected. Irvine had been on his bird, and Eli had ridden up there as well. He'd found a few more tracks off the path, in the foliage, and a few stray brown and white feathers, which made his eyes narrow. He knew the natives had chocobos that weren't golden. But what possible reason could one of them have for taking Irvine? Besides, there were other things with feathers.

 

There was no sign of shooting or a scuffle and barely any broken foliage, so what had happened?

 

Seifer had ridden back to town with the nagging suspicion that it had been one of the natives, but no way to prove it and no motive. However, he wasn't about to tell Leanne this.

 

“He still hasn't turned up, Ma'am?” he wondered slowly, drawing out a chair for her like the gentleman he was. She refused it, and remained standing.

 

“No indeed he hasn't, Sheriff. I'm fair going out of my mind with worry!” She wrung her hands, stepping nervously from foot to foot and Seifer felt for her. He knew how awful she must feel.

 

“I went on up there last night, Ma'am,” he told her. “I didn't find anything helpful, but I'm thinking we might have to get a search party going. Doesn't sound like Irvine to lose control of his chocobo, but maybe something spooked Whipcrack real bad. That's the only thing I can think of.” Liar. “They might both be somewhere up the track, hurt.”

 

She nodded, blue eyes wide.

 

“I'll sort a couple of boys and we'll head out after lunch. Shouldn't be too hard to find him, I reckon,” he reassured her, though he wasn't so sure himself.

 

“Thank you, Sheriff.”

 

“Please, Ma'am, call me Seifer. I'm not so much older than your boy.”

 

She smiled at him, then turned and headed out, but paused at the door, turning to look over her shoulder.

 

“If you need anything, lunch packed or drinks or anything, just call by our place on your way out, Seifer. Won't take me two minutes to get something ready for you.”

 

He tipped his hat, nodding to her.

 

“Thank you kindly, Ma'am. Might just take you up on that.”

 

She returned his nod, then headed out and he flopped into his chair, passing a hand across his emerald eyes. Where in the hell could that damned cowboy be? He had no reason to stray from the path, and Seifer knew he was pretty much flat-out lying to the woman. There was still that suspicion in the back of his mind, but it had no grounding, and always it came back to reason. What reason would any native have for taking Irvine? The cowboy had never been aggressive towards them. In fact, Seifer was fairly certain he had never been near them.

 

“Seifer…?”

 

He looked up as his deputy stepped in the door, sweeping a black hat much like Irvine's off dust-caked brunette locks. He ran gloved fingers through the unruly mess, so much dust falling from it that the poor man coughed.

 

“I gather the trip to and from the Bennet place was pretty dry, then…?” Seifer teased, smirking despite himself.

 

“Bastard…” the man muttered, then nodded. “Yeah, dry. And there wasn't anything out there. I swear that woman only sends her boy down here to get one of us so she can bat her lashes and make suggestions about haystacks…”

 

Seifer snorted, standing and heading over to a low table to pour his deputy and friend a mug of beer. It was accepted gratefully and half-drained before attention turned back to conversation.

 

“Well,” Seifer remarked. “You do have a nice arse, after all, Leonhart.”

 

The man just looked at him, clearly unimpressed.

 

He was the fourth of their little orphanage to end up here, but he had come with Seifer, so the blonde figured that wasn't quite so creepy. Still, the fact that they had run into one another in the first place was creepy enough. He supposed they must just be drawn together because they'd grown up together so early. He wondered to himself often if anyone else from that band was going to appear.

 

“Watch your mouth, Almasy, or someone'll hear you.”

 

“It's just you `n' me, Squall. No one'll hear.”

 

“That's what you said last time,” Squall pointed out softly, storm-cloud eyes troubled.

 

“I'll be more careful,” Seifer promised, relenting. “Listen, we've got to go look for Irvine.”

 

“He still not back?”

 

“No, and his Ma's awful worried.”

 

“And I'm sure she's the only one…”

 

“Shut up, Squall. I need you to grab Bobby and Dylan for me. At least those two have sensible heads on their shoulders. We might be gone a while, so best let that clinging thing you reckon is your girl know.”

 

Squall shot him a filthy look, but he only shrugged.

 

“What? She's fucking annoying and you can do better.”

 

“Like with you, maybe?”

 

“No! Hyne, I've been down that path before. Bad idea, wanting a guy with different preferences. Just find a decent girl.”

 

“You just don't like her because she's sugary and sweet and you like your `girls' with a bit of fight and muscle.”

 

“No, I don't like her because she's a whiny, annoying, spoilt little bitch.”

 

“Seifer!”

 

“It's true. Ten to one says she whines when you tell her you'll be out late tonight.”

 

“She doesn't whine.”

 

“Oh, you can't be serious!” Seifer scoffed, shaking his head. “She's about as whiny as they come.”

 

“I'm this close to hitting you, Sheriff.”

 

Seifer snorted again and shook his head, then layered his voice with mock-sweetness, clasping his hands and batting his lashes.

 

“Do tell Rinoa I said hello, Squally. And that I'd be simply delighted to see her again sometime.”

 

“Fuck, you're an arsehole…” Squall muttered. One thing he did hate about Rinoa was that pet name. But he found Seifer's tendency to pick on Rinoa a helluvalot more annoying than Rinoa herself… Although… she did have a habit of-

 

He shook those thoughts out of his head and went to rustle up Bobby and Dylan - after he'd gone to see Rinoa, that was.

 

Seifer watched him go with a smirk and a shake of his head. Surely it could only be a matter of time before the quiet brunette got sick of Rinoa's effusive loudness. Besides, to his reasoning, so pretty an arse as the one Squall Leonhart possessed shouldn't belong to a woman.

 

“Ah, Almasy,” he muttered, running his gloved hand through his hair. “Don't even think it. You've been down that road before, and you know where it ended. You're damned lucky the man's still your friend.”

 

Still… it was such a pretty arse…

 

So was Irvine's, for that matter, but Seifer was pretty damn sure there'd be no luck on that front, either. At least not the way Irvine bedded women - at such a rate anyone would think they were going to vanish off the face of the planet and the cowboy was storing up experiences for when it happened.

 

He hated being the way he was…

 

With a sigh, Seifer headed out, locking the jail behind him. Hopefully nothing too drastic would occur while they were busy looking for Irvine, but he wasn't too worried. Half the time, he went whole days without being called for. Both his and Squall's birds were already saddled, so all he needed to do was untie them from the tether-rail outside, vault into his chocobo's saddle and lead Squall's to the center of town where he was pretty sure his deputy would gravitate.

 

What he didn't expect was the ten other men riding behind Dylan and Bobby who were riding behind a scowling, stalking Squall Leonhart.

 

“What the hell…?” Seifer wondered under his breath as they approached.

 

Squall swung into the saddle and leaned over, keeping his voice low.

 

“I couldn't get them to understand that we don't need a fucking posse. I swear they'd have lynched me if I tried any longer to tell them no.”

 

Seifer sighed hard enough to make the two stubborn locks of hair that always refused to remain under his hat lift, then nudged his bird, Knightly, past Squall, Dylan and Bobby to face down the mob of ten men.

 

“Gentlemen, much as we appreciate your help, w-”

 

“Ain't no way we're turnin' `round and ridin' back home, Sheriff. If Irvine done taken a fall from his chocobo, might take more'n four men to bring him on back.”

 

How could it take more than four men to bring back one?! Seifer wondered hotly, but he kept his mouth shut - for the moment. He wasn't a patient man.

 

“Really, if we need help, one of us can ride back for it,” the Sheriff pointed out reasonably.

 

“Might take too long `n' Irvine'll be bleedin' to bloody death in the meantime.”

 

Oh sweet gods… Men are stupid! Why do they want to come along?!

 

“We're capable of handling this,” Seifer said, steel lacing his words.

 

They barely hesitated.

 

“Are y'just? We still ain't s' sure've that.”

 

Seifer's temper snapped and his fingers tapped warningly against the grip of his pistol.

 

“I don't reckon I care what you are and aren't sure of, sir,” he said with a cool calmness that made them all reign their chocobos a step backward. “We won't be requiring your help, and if you do follow us, I won't hesitate to throw every one of you in the lock-up for the night. Am I clear?”

 

They said nothing, but they didn't try to follow when Seifer turned his bird and led the other three men off.

 

Squall pulled up beside him, a slight grin threatening to break the front he put up of not caring or reacting.

 

“I think you might've made yourself an enemy, Seif. That big fella leading them didn't look too impressed at all.”

 

“I don't give a shit, Squall. Whether they like it or not, I'm in charge of the law here, and I'm not going to let them walk all over me.”

 

“Good,” Squall agreed and they set off to begin their search.

 

- - - - - - -

 

(1) “Wow!” all the readers said. “Kitty sure can bullshit. First the Gayla and it's hair-cling things, now the sex of the chocobo!”

“Yes,” Kitty agreed. “I can bullshit. And it's my fic, so I have whatever poetic license I want. Ha!”

 

Author's Notes: Woo! On with the hotness! I love writing native-Zell so much. XD He's so arrogant.