Kings and Slaves [Lincoln King]

[Robin Little]

ROBIN LITTLE – wearing
The more Robin worked, the more money he made. The more money he made, the more he could afford. These days he didn’t have to pay for his highs – addictions didn’t cost him anything. In fact, they paid quite well instead. And after the recent auction – though he made not nearly as much as the other participants – the payment helped him to afford a newer wardrobe. New suits were added to the couple he already owned, and he didn’t have to feel like someone was going to eventually call him out on only owning two. What’s more? He could keep them all in his own wardrobe. In his own apartment. One that he bought. Bought. Never in his life did Robin thing he would ever own property. This vampire gig wasn’t so bad.

The Necropolis was as busy as usual, though Robin had clocked off for the night. Slightly thirsty and yet not unbearably so, he chose to ignore it and instead fished his phone from his pocket. He flicked through the contacts until he found one of a Mr Lincoln King. He typed out the message:

I’m at the Necropolis wearing a brand new Alexander McQueen suit that you bought. It’s about time you got what you paid for. Meet me?


LINCOLN KING – wearing
It was still warm outside when Lincoln left his work space, it was temporary until he made a firmer decision on what kind of building he'd like or whether he wanted to keep it small, close and casual. He liked the current environment, high up in an building with big open windows, cozy couches and a few desks where the small staff could sit around brain storming before going about their work autonomously. It had worked so far, the app was getting popular quickly, he was looking at implementing a team devoted purely to social media and advertising rather than splitting the duties and hiring externally. He'd ditched his jacket earlier in the day, wearing a casual pair of slacks and smart jacket over a pressed white t-shirt. Clean, elegant and appropriate for the weather. He was glad he hadn't gone entirely casual when he got the message, smirking at it. "Robin, huh? Yeah." He texted a reply, saying he'd be there in ten, though he planned to be at least twenty.

The handsome young man strolled in, finger crooked around the collar of his jacket where it hung casually over one shoulder, pale green gaze narrowed on the room until they picked out the man he was seeking and giving a pleased grin. Long stride carried him across the room, the broad man leaning his tall frame against a nearby wall as if holding it up with his laid back gesture. "Hey man, how's it hanging?"


ROBIN LITTLE
Robin had taken up his station at the bar; although he gave his blood away for a living, he could still pass as human as he sat there drinking his tall glass of beer. Most of the time he was a wine drinker, but tonight he felt like beer. It was a blessing to him, that he didn't have to give up his food and beverage. It was a remnant of normalcy. He'd taken up the space near the end of the bar, closest to the wall, clearly off-duty as he chatted idly to the bartender. When Lincoln arrived, Robin assessed the man, head to toe and back again. He blamed Jameson. "What is it they say? Shrivelled and to the left. What about you?"


LINCOLN KING
He laughed, deep, warm sound before letting himself drop down onto one of the bar stools. He looked a little too big for it, too tall, too broad, but he made it work by keeping one foot firmly planted on the ground as the other hooked the heel of his loafer casually against the foot rail. "Shrivelled? Aren't new suits supposed to make a man feel strong? Firm? If you're not even a little..." He glanced down unabashedly at the man's lap, shrugging, "You're wearing it all wrong if you aren't feeling it." His laugh came again, short and shallow as if he needn't put the effort into it. "Liberally left," He finally said, "And irrepressibly tumescent... We are talking about my mood, right?"


ROBIN LITTLE
The laughter could barely be kept contained. A sharp brow was raised at the witty response, spoken on the fly with zero effort. And good vocabulary, too. Robin had a feeling he'd like this guy -- depending on what his 'master' made him do. "Your mood is swollen, perhaps achingly so. Is this something we should be worried about? Should we find you a doctor? Or should I be concerned about what use you're going to put me to?" he asked, though there was no concern in his tone, only joviality. "As for the suit, it's still something I'm growing accustomed to. We're new friends. It takes a while to warm up," he said with the subtlest of winks.


LINCOLN KING
Smirked, a soft snort of derision escaping him, but he was pleased with how easily the guy had picked up on his meaning and intentions. Good, it would make this all go a lot smoother, no good in owning someone you couldn't stand, even if it were brief. "Precisely, it's a constant ache that no doctor can cure, they've prescribed me all sorts of meds you should just see my cabinets. To be fair, it's mostly tic tacs, phone numbers I’ve yet to call and broken promises. Woe is me." He played it up, jutting out his bottom lip in a pout. "Shall we drink away my sorrows and discuss the small matter of our contract? I've yet to fully establish your skill set. Give me a chance to get to know you and that very, very handsome suit." Lincoln leaned closer, he really was in a rather larger than life mood, fingertips trailing briefly across the seam of a lapel. "Hello, McQueen, I’m Mr.King and I’m a big fan." He spoke to the fabric, eyes appreciating the details. "Oh yeah, we are going to be fast friends. I'll see if you live up to your suit, he's a real winner."


ROBIN LITTLE
Mr. McQueen's tie had been undone and re-knotted several time already that evening, and Robin was becoming a deft hand at it. On the very edge of the crisp white collar was the barest hint of a blood stain -- the cons of the business he was in. Robin took a long slug of his beer to finish it off, before waving the bartender over to take their orders. Robin would order yet another beer. It wasn't as if they could have any affect. "Frankly, you're lucky I remembered that I have an end of the bargain to uphold. I could have added to your list of broken promises. Let's hope I stay on course," he said with a crooked grin. He was aware of his own let downs, and thoroughly cognizant to his own failings as a person. "I'm sure you've heard the news recently, Mr. King? I think we should first establish what it is you already know about me..."


LINCOLN KING
His lingering, almost distracted gaze focused sharply, narrowing in on the barely visible spot of crimson. Interesting, he thought, wondering just who the blood belonged to though rather hoping it was merely some kind of shaving accident. Of course he knew better but it was nice to pretend for even an instant he could be some obtuse peon, happily wandering through the world without any awareness of the monsters and men that sat across from them. His gaze met Robin's, slipping over his features. "Lucky me, to be honest I probably wouldn't have reminded you. I'm not sure i'm so good at playing Master, boss sure, but Master? Not usually my style." The man shrugged at his admission, leaning towards the bartender to make his order, a scotch on the rocks, top shelf. "I've heard the news, Mr.Little... You can call me Lincoln, you know. I also answer to Linc, King, Your Majesty and Monarch. All acceptable." His brow raised, lifting his drink to his lips when it arrived, "And pray tell, what is IT I know about you?" Playing hard to get was a fun game, almost as good as playing ignorant and innocent when you were quite clearly neither. It meant people tended to more readily give up information, out of frustration at your clear lack of knowing.


ROBIN LITTLE
Robin scoffed. "King, Majesty and Monarch are fine, but not Master, eh? You're a special kind of elitist," he said with a nod of his head, as if it were something to be commended. Clearing his throat, he straightened his shoulders and turned to face Lincoln directly. "I'm a vampire, and I work here as a blood doll -- I sell my blood to other vampires and to blood thieves. I started as a human blood doll. That kind of went a bit too far. I am -- was -- a writer. Wanted to publish but my life got turned upside down and the muse has kind of fled. Skills? I'm not sure I have a solid CV," he said. Once upon a time it would have been awkward, but given the news? It was a relief to be able to say it out loud.


LINCOLN KING
"The BEST kind." He corrected, swirling his glass just to hear the clink of ice against it. "Just consider me the benevolent kind, a man of the people and all that ********." It was almost preening the way he grinned, comfortably self-assured, bordering on a cockiness that he was quite happy to back up. This was Lincoln at the top of his game, unruffled, unmarred by the simmering anger that often struck him and took hold of his moods. No doubt one of his internal tantrums would flare up at some point, but for now, he was comfortable where he sat. The clearing of a throat and shift in posture made him look, watch Robin as he made his big announcement. "You're adorable, Robin." Lincoln smiled patiently. "A writer, huh? Do you look at the world through a different lens? Actually, I might have use for you, simple work but some editing. Can I call you Doll? I'm going to call you Doll." He wrinkled his nose, pleased with this decision.


ROBIN LITTLE
All that ********, he said, the three words that had Robin disbelieving everything that came before. This Lincoln King was intriguing, a puzzle that Robin had yet to put together. "Adorable. Was that supposed to be a compliment?" he asked. He didn't have to be a writer to know that there were different kinds of people in the world, and Robin was always going to be the one other could belittle, harmless or no. Maybe it had something to do with growing up with the surname 'Little'. "You are the master, Master. You paid good money to call me whatever you like," he said, this time with a more obvious wink. "What use might that be?" he asked, swinging back around to reach for his drink. Robin was not at all bitter -- he quite enjoyed his role in life, the version of person he'd shuffled into. All ranks of life needed filling, Robin was just doing his due diligence.


LINCOLN KING
Just like that it was brushed off, for now, what they were or weren't. "I'm not really a fan of labels, adds to the mystery doesn't it, not pinning a name tag to yourself and announcing to the world just what you are. Sure, it can be liberating for some, but being shoved into a little box under specific labels is irritating. Straight, Gay, Cruel, Kind, Vampire, Human, Human with a little extra bite... It matters, oh, don't you get me wrong it MATTERS... But I prefer to skirt around the labels." A lot of different people had a lot of different views on Lincoln, they could agree of course on a number of things and if they all sat down to discuss him would come to a consensus that was fairly close to the truth. "Well, Doll, you could look over my app and website for one thing, you could also give me your opinions as a former human, current blood doll and familiar of the many types that walk this world. You've met blood thiefs, you've met vampires and humans. Maybe the other types, too..." He paused, considering his glass for a moment, as if it were fascinating. Perhaps it was, the amber liquid, a world of possibility within it. "So, you like to get eaten?" His tone was flippant, but the sideways gaze he offered more intent.


ROBIN LITTLE
The speech was commendable, and yet Robin half wondered where it had come from. Was he being lectured because he asked about whether or not 'adorable' was a compliment? It was a bit heavy to call it a 'label', but whatever. "You're a bit intense, Lincoln King," he said. He also wondered whether Lincoln was high, or weather he was a lightweight and was already drunk. And Robin thought he talked too much -- or at least, Fleur thought he did. He did have to laugh, however. "Eaten, I think, implies complete consumption..." he started, and then laughed again. Yeah, okay. That's why he was now dead. A vampire. He'd been completely consumed. And yet, the innuendo was not missed. "...yeah, I like to get eaten," he said, deadpan with the same flippant sideways gaze. "I can look over your app. And I can offer you opinions, though I'm not sure they'll count for much. But -- if you don't see yourself as any kind of 'master', why'd you come and 'buy' someone on auction?"


LINCOLN KING
He was impressed, more so than he thought he'd be upon first viewing the man. There was a certain awkwardness to him compared to the others up for auction that had caught his attention, he wanted to be there, he'd clearly chosen it and yet he'd looked slightly absent. Linc wasn't sure why, perhaps guarding himself, trying not to put too much out there in case it was rejected that he could say he hadn't tried that hard anyway so it didn't matter. "It was a compliment, I meant it. You're right, I can be intense but trust me this sort of intensity is better than the other kind. I'm content." He said this as if it would mean something to Robin, even though he'd not explained it. The man took a lazy sip, not speaking for a while as he considered the latter of Robin's words, merely looking bemused. "All opinions count for something, even if they aren't acted upon or taken heavily into consideration. I'm specifically asking though, so your opinion counts for a lot to me. You know what I mean? As for the auction... I didn't really mean to, you know. Like, I didn't come looking to buy, just sticking my snooty nose in. I can be a "Master" if you really want, Robin. Do you want that?"


ROBIN LITTLE
Content. Robin could claim as much, too. When had Robin ever been other than content? Though he'd be lying to himself. There were plenty of nights he'd woken in a sweat, nightmares of blood and gore plaguing his mind. It's what happens when a naive human stumbles in on a vampire raid. And yet, he'd still chosen to become a part of the life that terrified him. Maybe it was the writer in him, curious. Wanting to experience everything so that he could write about it with confidence. His eyes brightened, his demeanour perked just slightly as it suddenly clicked -- now that everyone knew about vampires, he could write about them with credibility. All was not lost. But that was a thought for another time. "I can be eloquent. Give me a topic and I'll hand you my thoughts and observations in essay form within forty-eight hours," he said. Robin wasn't a complete loss -- he had come out of University with top marks, a fluke he'd pulled from his sleeve last minute. Beneath the awkward exterior a brilliant mind churned. "What kind of master would you be, Lincoln King? You read the auction card, you already know I'm open to new things..."

[Lincoln King]

LINCOLN KING
His nose wrinkled, this time in distaste, a faint sneer on his face. "You want me to read a... A SHORT essay, if you must, or write down dot points and just read them to me as if you were doing a presentation." He'd seemed almost enthusiastic about the idea, and who was Lincoln to tell him not to be such a damn nerd. "I may have glanced at it..." He admitted reluctantly, finishing his drink with a considerate sigh. "What kind of Master? Well, that would depend. You say you are open to new things but I guess i'd have to know what is NEW for you. You are a blood doll, and a vampire. You wanted to be a writer, but that hasn't yet panned out. What do you do for fun? Hobbies? Interests? Loves and passions? Fears? Come on, give me something."


ROBIN LITTLE
Robin had never really been anything other than an open book. The questions could have been invasive, but instead Robin saw them as an opportunity toward discussion. There was nothing he loved more than a philosophical rant -- it would be better if he were drunk. Which was a good starting point. "As a human I could get high. I could get drunk. I liked being bitten because I liked the effect -- that drowsy, dazed effect. For fun I crashed parties and got blackout drunk, met new people, crashed on different couches. I read books. As a vampire I'm constantly searching for a new high, which is harder than it sounds. I'm terrified of boredom," he said. One might think that being a vampire had to be anything but boring, but when one inhabited a certain role for long enough, it got boring. "I don't have any loves, I can sometimes be a shitty person and passions are fleeting and unsatisfying," he said, ending his small speech with a flourish and a smile.



LINCOLN KING
The bartender gave him a curious nod and Linc lifted his hand, giving a small beckoning gesture in agreement. Another drink, why the hell not. "Drugs and alcohol don't hit you so hard, but you can still drink and eat. That's not something everyone can do, so yay you. A life without loves sounds kinda lame, sure passion is fleeting but it's bright and vibrant and... It SHOULD be fleeting, we couldn't handle it every second of the day." Linc felt the small mint container in his pocket like it were burning, there were a number of substances in there though most were prescription, his or someone else's it didn't really matter. He wasn't huge on uppers, and he certainly didn't take anything that would have a long term negative effect on his outward appearance, the very occasional risk to his nose as his snorted himself into the life of the party was his limit. "Everyone can be a shitty person, most just don't know it. What about physical? Even getting drunk and high is more of a mental stimulant."


ROBIN LITTLE
"It's true, there are things to be grateful for. Silver linings," he said with a mild shrug. "I'm not complaining, per se, about being a vampire," he said. It still felt strange to be able to say it out loud and not get laughed out of the building. "But as you say, passions are bright and vibrant and they are a requirement for a fulfilled life. I suppose the drugs and the drunk helped me to achieve a state of elation," he said, tongue pausing against his top teeth, ceasing the question that was about to tumble from his lips. Truth was, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. It wasn't only passions that were fleeting, people were, too. "What do you mean, what about physical? I'm not much of a sports guy...."


LINCOLN KING
His brows went up, he was a curious guy and clearly somewhat intelligent but there was something lacking in him, some lecture on life he'd clearly skipped over while his nose was buried in a book. "There is more to physicality than sports... But, good to know. Can you run? Jump? Climb? Do you like the feeling of falling? Of a good fight? Adrenaline. What about dancing? Fast or slow, alone or together it doesn't matter... All physical." He shrugged at his examples, fingertips flicking dismissively. He still wasn't sure what he wanted to do with this guy, it seemed too easy, too boring just to have him work for a few days. He could take him to parties, he could make him be his servant and fetch him things but that was demeaning and so thoroughly mundane.


ROBIN LITTLE
"Can I..." Robin started, stopped, and laughed. Eventually, he nodded. "Yes, if the situation called for it, I CAN run jump and climb. I had a bike, once. It was stolen," he said, leaning back a little. "I dabbled in gunsmithing for a while, but making them and using them are two different things..." he said. Given the line of questioning, he was starting to think he was a bit of a bore. "Are you going to put a target on my back and send me running for my life while you hunt me through the maze that is Harper Rock?" he asked with an arch of the brow. "Adrenaline -- is that your thing, the thing you crave?" he asked, wondering now if it were something he should try. Maybe he could walk himself into the middle of a curious mob and declare himself the undead, and see what happened.


LINCOLN KING
"No, not necessarily... I mean I suppose I COULD, but... No." His laughter broke through the brief seriousness of his expression, "You said you wanted something new, and maybe i'm in the mood to teach. I just wanted to figure out what was within your limits, how far I could push I guess." Was adrenaline his thing? Sort of. He liked to keep fit, liked the feeling of being able to run and jump and climb without tiring too quickly. Feeling strong, feeling capable. He loved the burning ache in his muscles and the feeling of accomplishment when he met a new goal. It steadied his mind, it gave him a release. Sometimes it went too far, he had no qualms about putting his fists to a problem but reigning it in was another issue when his anger flared. "One of many, I suppose. I like free running, this city is pretty good for it."


ROBIN LITTLE
Robin nodded, and had to laugh. "I'd offer you blood, you know. The blood thieves get high on it. It gives them extra physical prowess on top of a couple of my own handy capabilities," he said, flashing a grin. It was definitely useful to get discounts all the time. He'd never saved so much money in his life. "Last time I tried that I turned someone, though. Didn't know it was something that had to be trained for. So ah... unless you're wanting a complete change in lifestyle I'll leave that offer off the table," he said. "I'm what they call an Allurist. I can get my way easily," he said, peering at Lincoln curiously. "How much do you actually know about us? About vampires?"


LINCOLN KING
His scoff and look of dismissal said it all, no he was not interested in being a Blood Thief, besides it was a slightly different and more difficult process for him considering what he was. "I know, but i'm not after your blood, it wouldn't work out so well for me." His lifestyle suited him just fine, he was able to adapt but he was content with his abilities and his place in the food chain. "About vampires? Not everything, but enough. My father gave me a few tips, and I’ve figured some out for myself with trial and error." He flexed his hand, balling it into a fist reflexively. "They get a little mad when I disappear, or when skin becomes a little too tough for their liking." He wondered how much Robin knew about what he was, about Sorcerer's. Would he put these not so subtle clues together? "I'll make sure I don't bite down too hard if I’m trying to tease, hm? Not that you’re necessarily my type anyway, it might just be the suit I’m into." He smirked, downing his drink quite cheerily. Was the gay offensively straight? He hated when people got their backs up over playful flirting, he did it with almost anyone.


ROBIN LITTLE
Robin narrowed his eyes in curiosity. He'd heard of sorcerers, for sure, but hadn't ever met one. Nor was he in the loop about what they were all capable of. With his cold fingers wrapped around the slightly colder drink, Robin laughed again. He was in a good mood. "I knew you'd try to get me out of the suit," he said with a smirk. "I'm all awkward long limbs and mumbling, most of the time," he said. He'd worked on proper enunciation, and it was a little easier in the club -- he had to raise his voice to be heard over the music. "I'm a rare type, and acquired taste that most people aren't really into," he said with a wink, clearly not bothered. He had got the attention of Maddison, hadn't he? He couldn't really knock that, and he was only just starting to realise that if he really tried, he had some kind of appeal. He just had to remind himself of it. "But hey -- you can disappear?!"


LINCOLN KING
Lincoln laughed too, not at him, with him. Had there been a time where he was awkward? Uncertain of himself? Surely, there had to be have been, but he just couldn't seem to recall it. He was the cherubic looking, but cheeky as hell blonde kid, then the charming but troubled teenager and as a man he knew he had issues but he wore them well. "Hey, it's a good suit, and you're only a little shorter than me, I could make it work." He hummed appreciatively, looking the man over. "Acquired over time? Kind of like when you taste or smell something that isn't bad, but it's not your favourite it's... Interesting. You want to try more, or smell it again to figure out what it is about it? I like that, that's an asset. You should use it." When Robin repeated his words back to him he laughed, ducking his head and rubbing sheepishly at the back of his head. "Not literally, man, no. It's a trick some of you vamps have too, can just jump really damn far. If someone is slow, or distracted I can get away pretty quickly. I mean otherwise all I’m good for is being rock hard, a healing touch and finding you some herbs..." He looked mildly unimpressed by the last part. "I mean, it really does explain all of those camping trips growing up."


ROBIN LITTLE
Robin waggled his brows, half feeling like the beer was actually having an effect. Mind over matter. "Rock hard, huh? I doubt all vampires would see that as a bad thing," he said with a healthy chuckle, trying his best to wipe away his smirk so that he could focus on what else was said. "And I mean like... wine. I started drinking wine only when it was the only thing available and I wanted to get drunk. It didn't matter what kind. I didn't particularly like it. But then I started to realise how rich it could be. How... refined," he said. The smirk still could not be banished.


LINCOLN KING
He studied that smirk like it were a favourite book part of book, read over and over until it was locked in his memory. It was a good smirk, if his own wasn't so good he might have envied it. "Hey, it's saved my life numerous times and it's a neat parlour trick. Though, "Wanna see me get rock hard?" Doesn't go over too well with most people, I wouldn't recommend it." He joked, enjoying listening to Robin speaking about wine, it almost made him want some. "No kidding. See, that's what I mean... THAT could get you somewhere. You wanna go somewhere?"


ROBIN LITTLE
"Yes, let's," he said, slipping from the stool. "I feel like I'm still working," he said. Although he'd grown accustomed to the Necropolis, its music and its inhabitants, it still wasn't the kind of social scene Robin was naturally attracted to. With a nod to the bartender, Robin assured that the drinks were all put on the tab he kept. "Have you got somewhere in mind?" he asked. For all Robin's talk of refinement, Lincoln King looked far more refined than Robin was pretending to be. He was intrigued, to see the kind of places Lincoln might be able to slip them into.


LINCOLN KING
Lincoln made a face at him, "I can imagine, you seem to hang out here a lot, huh? You don't have friends or family who want to hang out? Or..." He thought a moment, "What do they call it? Person who made you, or you who made them. Sire? Sired? Family line?" Linc dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand, digging in his pocket to tug a few crisp bills from a money clip. Sure, he could've let Robin carry the tab but it wasn't his style, plus the bartender had studiously given them space and for that a tip was in order. "Well... No, but, there is a party in an abandoned warehouse, and one in a penthouse." He grabbed out his phone, flicking through it. "Those look most promising, or we could just go for a run... Get you out of that suit, first."


ROBIN LITTLE
Robin snorted. "We can't find my sire. I haven't heard from her in ... months," he said. "Prudence is fun, but we didn't really click, per se. Levi hates me. I assume he thinks I was making a move on his woman, but really she spent more time with him than she ever did with me," he said with a vague shrug. He never really did feel like he fit with that group, but then he never did assume that bonds of friendship could be forced. "It's a small line. I have Maddison. We're still getting to know each other," he said. That was basically it. That was his world in a nutshell. He led the way toward the exit and only when they were out on the street did he turn around, slow his stride to keep pace with Lincoln. "You don't think Mr McQueen is up for a run?"


LINCOLN KING
He shrugged on his lightweight jacket, the fit was smart, tailored but loose so that it had an airy, summery feel. "Maddison, so she is yours." He'd heard the other names, filed them away in case they one day became important, "The accidental turning. That must have been scary for you both, not knowing what was happening and realising too late... Is she happy?" He pondered allowed, following Robin with ease, his own stride long and casual behind him, almost leisurely. "Oh, I’m sure he is, but we wouldn't want to wreck it so soon. I'd have to buy another, and that sounds like an expensive habit. What takes your fancy, ol' Blue Eyes? My style of run, or my style of party? We've got time, we can do both." He checked the watch on his wrist, "Well, quite a few hours before you need a nap."


ROBIN LITTLE
Robin glanced skyward, as if he could see the way the Earth turned, as if he could feel the sun on his heels. At least he didn't suffer insomnia anymore. "Yeah. I think she wanted to slap me for apologising so much," he said with a wry grin, but otherwise a simple shrug of the shoulders. "She's... handling it," he said, suddenly uncomfortable talking about the mistakes he'd made. Not that he regretted Maddison, he just regretted the way it had come about. "I think I'd prefer your style of party. Warehouse sounds fun," he said. It was the kind of thing he often chose to crash, so why not?


LINCOLN KING
The subject clearly wasn't the most comfortable for him, and Lincoln made a mental note not to bring it up again once they'd let it drop, he didn't want to upset the guy. His style of party? Linc's full lips curved, his smile was part smirk, and all charm. "Oh, pretty boy, you're in a for a total treat. Come on, let's put that McQueen on show, you're a servant of the King tonight." He winked, slipping a pair of keys from his pocket and heading towards a sleek, dark red sports car. "We'll see if we can't find you something new."