Work Text:
Navidad 1992
Connie Murphy looked him straight in the eye and set her jaw.
“What do you want Javi?” she asked, her gaze never wavering.
It was about a week before Christmas. Steve had a record player and some good music, and they liked to host. The only stipulation was to bring something to drink and Connie would provide the food. That suited him fine. He wasn’t any kind of a cook and certainly wouldn’t have the first idea what to bring to eat at a party. He’d bought a couple of bottles - whiskey for the men, wine for the ladies. That’s what his Dad would have brought back home and it made sense to him.
He’d ended up being early for the party: a rarity for him. He’d been on a stakeout the last three days and had little sleep and when he got back to his apartment he knew that if he sat down on his couch, he’d never get up again. So instead he’d grabbed the bottles and made for the third floor, where the Murphys lived.
You were the only other guest there when he arrived. It was early and the thing didn’t officially start for another half an hour but he thought he’d use the time to talk something over with Steve. They were never off work, even when they were officially off the clock and he could talk while starting on some of that whiskey or maybe a tequila cocktail that his partner was particularly good at making.
Walking into the flat he heard women’s laughter from the kitchen area. Connie waved at him, and he walked round the corner to find the two of you making canapé and calling at Steve to make you a cocktail.
“Come on baby!” Connie pleaded, “Rustle us up one of those gin thingies, you know. Please?” She smiled that smile that made Steve turn to putty in her hands and he rolled his eyes at Javi and the two walked to the table set up as a bar. Steve started to mix the drinks while Peña placed his bottles down and turned to look at you.
You’d moved into the building a while back, when an apartment had become free, and Steve had mentioned Connie’s friend, but Peña hadn’t met you until now. His hours were crazy and he didn’t really care. The job was tough and exciting: exactly what he’d been promised it would be. And he’d been looking for something to escape the monotony of his DEA desk job Stateside.
The pace was brutal. Agent turnover was high. Guys came and went, and only the tough ones - or the crazy ones, stayed for any length of time. The days were long and weekends were often sacrificed to the job too. Half the time he came home, drank a couple of glasses of whiskey and crashed for a few hours, back out again in the early morning. He didn’t often meet any of the building’s inhabitants, being on the ground floor, never using the elevator.
Steve shouted out an introduction. You smiled at him and he raised his hand and you went back to the food and laughing with Connie. You were pretty, had a nice way about you, a nice laugh. You made Connie laugh, she seemed relaxed with you.
“Here, you do the honours,” Steve said, passing him two glasses and nodding in the direction of the woman. “Best keep the chefs happy.” So he’d wandered over to the kitchen and passed you each a drink, which you clinked together and sipped. You raised your glass at Steve across the room and then at Javi, asking where his drink was.
“Not like you to be empty handed,” Connie commented, and so he wandered back to Steve and while they got a drink, he asked about you. Steve said you were a teacher at the school attached to Connie’s clinic. Working with children with problems learning or something like that. Javi looked over at you again and wondered what sort of woman would enjoy a job like that. Connie was singing along to the record, but you were quiet, preparing the food and smiling at her but shaking your head when she nudged you to join in.
While Steve went to grab some more bottles from the car, Javi wandered to the kitchenette door and leaned against the frame. He asked you how you were finding the place, where you’d lived before, where you were from. You kept chopping vegetables for canapés and answered his questions, politely bouncing them back to him, but somehow distant. You weren’t cold, just seemed as if you were slightly far away, not really involved.
Javi was used to a certain amount of female attention. He loved women, liked their bodies, their company, liked that popularity that he had. He liked to flirt and he liked to make love and it puzzled him a bit that you seemed immune to his obvious charms. He watched you in silence for a while.
When you finished the food, you picked up your glass and moved closer to him, leaning against the counter, and asked him about his job, about what the DEA was doing about the influence of the cartels in the slum areas. He was taken aback for a moment; women didn’t usually want to grill him about his job, but you listened as he talked. He noticed Connie looking over a couple of times and when the conversation hit a lull, you put your glass down and told Connie you were heading back to your place to get changed.
“Nice to meet you Javi,” you said, smiling, and he turned to watch you as you closed the door. When he turned back, Connie was standing right there in front of him.
“What do you want Javi?” she demanded, her face stern. He stopped for a moment, unsure of what she meant, but she put her hand on her hip and raised her eyebrows, not taking her eyes off him.
Connie Murphy was a force to be reckoned with. Steve Murphy always described her as exactly what she was to him: the most incredible woman to have ever crossed his path. Before he’d ever introduced her to his partner, Steve had painted a picture of a woman who was sweet and sassy and who, when she decided something, was a woman who always got her way.
And Connie Murphy knew exactly what Javier Peña was: a player. She had his number, had seen it the first moment she was introduced to him. But she accepted him as he was and they got along just fine. She’d seen him leave a dozen different bars with a dozen different women and while she didn’t judge him for the way he liked to conduct his sex life, it was different when a friends of hers was in the picture.
This time she wasn’t messing about.
“Don’t mess with her, Javi,” she said and he could see she was serious. “She’s been through a lot this year.” She narrowed her eyes. “Go and find someone else to flirt with, ok?” And she cocked her head and walked past him to answer the door. People started arriving and the music started and the drink began to flow.
Some time later in the evening, searching for some ice, and looking up again, you were there.
“Any more lemons in there?” you asked, and he gave you a raised eyebrow. The way you’d asked him, as if you were asking your brother, was new to him. Women liked Javier Peña, he was under no illusions about that. Usually his presence alone, especially at close quarters like this, was enough to make a woman either flush terribly or flirt outrageously. You did neither. It intrigued him. He passed you a couple of lemons and you thanked him and turned around and walked off, to whoever had apparently asked for lemons.
He didn’t have much time to consider this because when he turned around, the tall brunette he’d been eyeing all evening was leaning against the door frame, her eyebrow cocked at a seductive angle. She wasn’t the type to blush, and he locked eyes with her and was pretty sure he’d be leaving with her at the end of the evening. That would add a pleasant ending to the night, especially as his flat was right downstairs and not halfway across town.
The evening went on, the music slowed and couples began to dance closer, Javi and his brunette included.
“Hey,” Steve called to you as people began to say their farewells bit by bit, “I got your favourite Christmas record. Connie made me buy it.”
“Oh God, you’ll make me cry,” you laughed, and Javi saw something in your face, watching Steve put the record on the player. He couldn’t quite place it - sadness, maybe. Happiness too, confusingly. He wasn’t used to reading women that way and for a moment wondered what kind of music was coming.
The record crackled and started - slow jazz piano with an orchestra, 60s probably, with the unmistakable Christmas vibe of bells, or a xylophone. A warming sound, reminiscent of childhood Christmases. And then the voice. He knew the singer but couldn’t quite place her. Probably someone his Mom liked. She was the one who played the records like this in his house. His dad would put on one of her favourite songs, hold out his hand and ask her for a dance. It didn’t matter if she was cooking, reading, sewing. She would smile in that gentle way she had and dance with him, and the two of them would be lost in the glow of their affection, he and his sister watching and smiling.
“May I have this dance?” Steve asked holding out his hand much like Javi’s dad did and you did a mock curtesy and the two of you started to slow dance to the music.
When you said yesterday that it's nearly Christmas
What did I want and I thought
Just love me, love me, love me
That's what I want for Christmas
You and Steve were the only two dancing now. Javi’s brunette went to powder her nose and while he poured himself a last drink for the road, he watched the two of you and realised that there were tears in your eyes. Steve stopped and looked at you. Javi could hear him apologising and offering to turn it off.
“No, leave it,” you said, “It’s still my favourite.” Connie came out then and rubbed your back and took your hand and led you off into the kitchen. He could see her wrap you in her arms. Steve walked over to him.
“She was going out with a guy a while back. He was working with a local charity. Did a lot of work with slum kids, trying to stop them getting into trouble. Was in the wrong place at the wrong time, ended up getting killed.”
“Shit,” Javi replied, “And I bet he was just racked up as another number in the game.” Steve nodded.
“Yeah, never going to get any kind of closure. That’s why Connie’s so protective of her.” He chuckled and looked at his partner. The brunette was back, coat slung over her arm. “Anyway,” Steve added, “Looks like she needn’t have worried.”
As he was leaving the flat, he saw you and Connie walking back through to the living room and you put the record back on. Steve and Connie started to dance while you looked out of the window. You saw his reflection and turned and waved, gave him a small smile. You didn’t look upset, just pensive.
“Merry Christmas,” you called, and he just had time to say it back to you, before he was pulled away, his conquest giggling.
Navidad 1993
He’d seen you on and off throughout the year, mainly in company with Connie and Steve. Occasionally outside the condo or in the entranceway, but he’d often been rushing out for something. By the time he got back to his apartment it was usually the small hours and he was either exhausted or in company.
Often he heard you and Connie leaving in the morning, the hallway outside his ground floor apartment echoing the laughter he heard from one or both of you, a brief buenos días for the elderly señora from the flat next to his who liked to sit outside her door and watch people go by.
A couple of times you’d been collecting mail from the row of locked letter boxes in the entranceway and the two of you had chatted for a bit. He noticed that when he asked how work was, you answered him; didn’t act coy or use it as an excuse to flirt. You told him about the new kid who’d started at school. You asked him about work and listened carefully to his reply.
“You look tired,” you’d said, surprising him, “You need to make sure you get some down time.” How you looked at him, he couldn’t place it, but it was as if you cared. He thought about that look throughout the day and for a long time afterwards.
———
For Steve’s birthday there had been a barbecue in the communal gardens behind the condo; he’d been late and it was already in full swing when he arrived. The sun was hot and the garden was a mess of children running around, music blasting from a set of speakers and smoke from the grill. Steve handed him a beer straight away and he got down to catching up.
“Hey you two,” Connie said, laughing and pinching Steve on his backside, “We’ve run out of wine,” she said, waving her plastic cup at her husband. He raised his eyebrows, chuckling.
“Looks like you’ve had a good start, baby,” he smiled at her, pulling her in for a drunken kiss. Peña saw you then, standing on the other side of Connie, tilting your head at the two lovebirds, something wistful in your eyes. You looked at him and smiled, giving him a wink.
“They’re like two teenagers, aren’t they?” you chuckled and he had time to look at you. He noticed the stillness that you had, that he’d noticed at the Christmas party; the way you had of holding yourself, not aloof but poised and calm. Connie was spirited and charismatic but you were the opposite, and yet not shy, not timid. There was a quiet self-assuredness about you that he liked; like you didn’t need anything from him, but that you might have something to offer. He was about to say something, try and get you into conversation, when Connie suddenly pulled away from Steve, remembering something.
“Oooh,” she said, slurring slightly, “gotta get you back over to Roberto!” You glared at her, waving your finger.
“No way,” you laughed, “I am not dating someone from work.” But Connie was insistent, dragging you off and calling to Steve to get more wine and put on some slow dance music.
He didn’t see you much after that. He got chatting to a receptionist from work who he had noticed checking him out as he walked into and out of the office. She had a fiancé in another city but made it very clear that she wasn’t adverse to a bit of fun after the party ended. Once the food grew cold and the sound of tired children whining got too much for him, he found Steve, the receptionist eyeing him from across the yard.
“Where’s Connie?” he asked, though he wanted to say goodbye to you too. Steve shook his head, saying she’d felt sick and you’d taken her up to the apartment to lie down. He felt a hand on his arm, felt the receptionist slip her hand into his and saw Steve chuckle. What the hell, he thought, and led her off to his place.
———
The next time he saw you was Steve and Connie’s Christmas Party. He was early again, finding them still setting up. He’d expected to find you there too but it was just the two of them, setting out food and glasses and stopping to kiss under the mistletoe.
“You two making up for lost time?” Javi joked, watching them racing back to their tasks and then stopping for another smooch.
“Well, we’ve got the night off so gotta make the most of it!” Steve winked at him. They were in the process of adopting a little girl, Olivia. Her mother had been murdered by Escobar and the moment Steve set eyes on her, he’d decided to try and give her a better life. Tonight she was staying at a friend of Connie’s and so the two would-be parents could kick back and relax a bit.
Peña sometimes looked at the life his partner had and wondered what he saw in it. And other times, alone in his apartment, he felt a stab of loneliness that hadn’t been there before. It was easy enough to wash away with a drink or a hook up, but it crept back in. He thought he was probably getting old. And the job didn’t help. It was exciting, sure, but it was relentless. Sometimes he wanted something to come home to. Or was it someone?
You arrived late that evening, and it looked like you’d come from somewhere else. You brought a date, and Javi was surprised at how that made him feel. You looked happy and the two of you chatted a bit and you asked if the job was still as tiring; asked if he’d had any time off. Then your date grabbed you for a dance and Javi got talking to a flight attendant friend of Connie’s who was on a stopover and looking for a good time.
Just like the year before, Steve’s record collection shifted towards the sexy, slow stuff as the night turned to morning and the guests left.
“You ready for your favourite?” he asked you and smiled, such a warm and grateful expression, that for a moment Javi felt lost. The needle dropped and that voice started and it was like the year had gone by in flash. You called to your date to dance with you, but he waved you off and Javi saw the disappointment in your face. He was about to step in when Steve put his arm round you and pulled you into the middle of the floor.
You and Steve danced slowly and Javi wondered what he’d achieved this year. Felt a stab of something he couldn’t name. Where were the years going? What did he have to show for them? His work, yes, but what about the rest? What would he have when the work was gone?
As Steve turned you in a slow waltz, you caught his eye and waved gently and he thought about what a lovely woman you were. How lucky Connie was to have you as a friend. How kind you must be to your kids. But that wasn’t the kind of woman he went for. And Connie had warned him off, so it wasn’t to be. Better off that way, anyway. He had no time for a relationship.
“You wanna get out of here?” the flight attendant said, giving him a hungry look. She was cute and only in town for a couple of nights. He only looked back at you once before he closed the apartment door behind him.
Navidad 1994
It had been a tough year. Peña felt like he’d hardly been at his apartment, hardly had time to relax the whole year.
It had been tough for Steve and Connie too. Olivia’s great aunt had materialised and taken custody of the little girl, leaving both of them bereft. They had been planning to move back to the States but ended up throwing themselves into their work and carrying on.
Steve tried his best to keep strong for Connie but he’d broken down one night after a few drinks and Peña had felt something like love for him then. They’d been through so much together and he felt like a brother to Peña. So he was really happy when Steve confided in him that summer that Connie was pregnant.
The truth was that he didn’t just feel happy for Steve, he had started to understand how the guy felt. He’d coasted along on the adrenaline of work, the fast pace of life in Colombia and the one-night-stands he let himself enjoy without getting tied down. But this year had been different. He felt tired. Not just with the corruption that was endless, the cartels replacing one another with depressing monotony, but with the encounters that he’d once enjoyed.
Throughout the year he’d watched Steve and Connie and other couples he’d known; watched their interactions, listened to how they talked, looked at each other. He saw how Steve knew Connie, how he thought about her and made decisions with her and they shared a life. He’d never had that, not since he’d come to Colombia anyway. He’d told himself he was happy this way, free and without responsibilities, but stumbling home with someone and waking to an empty bed wasn’t the liberation he’d once found it.
And since Christmas, he’d found himself imagining without wanting to, someone to fill that hole. Someone to wake up with, to come home to, and care whether he came home or not. And without him understanding how, the person he imagined in that place in his life was you.
He wondered if you would like the coffee he made in the morning, imagining you leaning against the counter while he made it. He imagined you getting into the passenger seat when he left in the morning, so he could drop you at work on the way. He thought about how you held yourself and how you laughed with Connie and danced with Steve to that Christmas song he hadn’t been able to stop humming until March.
------
He’d picked you and Connie up once to go to one of her pre-natal visits when Steve got held back at work. Connie was flustered and he didn’t feel much better. You put Connie in the front seat and got her settled, then calmly gave him directions from the back and he’d watched you in the rear view mirror looking out at the passing streets.
And then looking up again, he saw you were watching him in the mirror and you didn’t look away when he caught you. You looked at him and broke into a smile. Connie said something then to break the moment and soon you were helping her out of the car and looking for the entrance to the clinic, Connie thanking him and telling him not to worry about picking them up.
———
In October, Steve invited him over for dinner one evening and when he turned up with a bottle of wine and some pastries, he found you setting the table for four. He hadn’t seen you since he’d dropped you and Connie at the clinic and you gave him a wide smile and asked how he was. Connie came out from the kitchen with appetisers and he saw how much she’d blossomed, her stomach taut and round. She looked happy and he moved to take the plates from her and saw you smile at him.
“We have something to ask you both,” Connie said later, over dessert, and reached out for Steve’s hand. He saw you give him a quick glance and wondered what Connie was about to say.
“We wondered if you’d be our child’s godparents,” she said, and she seemed shy. It clearly meant a lot to them. He saw your face, tears in your eyes and you stood up and went to Connie and bent to hug her. Steve just looked at him and waited.
“I would be so honoured,” you said, turning to Steve to give him a hug too. “What a lovely thing to ask.” And then you stood and looked at Javi.
“You think we can manage, Javi?” you asked him, smiling. He was lost for words. Hadn’t expected this at all. He knew he and Steve had a close bond, but sometimes he wasn’t sure that Connie liked him. So he directed his doubts to her.
“Are you sure?” he asked, incredulous, and Connie laughed. Reaching her hands out for his, she took it and gave it a squeeze.
“We’re sure Javi,” she smiled, “Aren’t we baby?” Steve nodded.
“Yeah, man,” he said, “Can’t think of anyone we trust more than you two.” You sat down again opposite Javi and gave him a sly look.
“Godfathers have to learn how to change diapers, though, right?” you said, turning to Connie.
“Oh totally,” she replied, her face straight.
“Mmm-hmm,” Steve added. Javi rolled his eyes and when he looked, you winked at him.
“Don’t worry, I’ll show you how to do it,” you said and everyone laughed at his expression.
Later, after you’d told Connie to sit down and rest and ordered Steve to give her a foot massage, the two of you headed to the kitchenette with the dishes and he dried the plates and glasses you washed and handed to him. He liked that you weren’t fussy about something like that: you just rolled up your sleeves and got on with the dishes, passing him a towel. After a few plates, you nodded at Steve and Connie through the hatch.
“You think we can live up to their expectations?” you asked him, turning to look at him, a serious look on your face. “I know it’s kind of an honorary thing, but it feels like a big deal.” He was quiet for a moment. Was thinking that you’d be fine at it but he seriously doubted whether he had the right qualifications. What you said next took him by surprise.
“I know you don’t understand why they asked you,” you said, half looking at him, a sly smile just ghosting the corner of your mouth. “But you’re actually the obvious choice.” He stopped drying the glass he was holding.
“How, d’you figure that?” he asked, puzzled, taken aback. You kept washing, cleaned another glass, went to pass it to him. He had paused when you said that, the half-dried glass in his hands and you chuckled and nodded at it, holding the next one out. He hastily put his down and took the wet one from you.
“You don’t just have to have experience with children to be important in a kid’s life,” you told him, reaching for a dish and placing it in the sink to soak, stopping for a moment. “Children need all sorts of people, but especially those they can count on; people who they can trust.” You started to scrub the dish. “I’ve heard Steve talk about you. And he trusts you, and that is what a child needs. What we all need.”
He didn’t know what to say at that moment. Didn’t have much experience with this kind of conversation, with compliments. He knew he should probably say thanks, or return the compliment or something like that but what was on the tip of his tongue, what was in his heart at that moment was go on a date with me, go dancing with me. Talk to me some more.
The words were almost out of his mouth when Connie called to the two of you to stop cleaning and come and join them again. And so he watched you dry your hands and join Connie on the couch while Steve came through to make coffee.
———
It was suspiciously quiet when he rushed in on Christmas Eve. Something had come up at work at the last minute and he’d told Steve to head off home to set up the party, seeing as it would be the last one they’d probably have energy for, for a few years anyway. Connie was due in a couple of weeks and Steve wanted to make it a good one. There had been a lot on this year, too, and they’d had to hold it on Christmas Eve, hoping that people would still want to come.
So it was late when he climbed the stairs, listening out for music, wondering if he’d just missed it altogether. He got to the apartment and put his head near the door; there was the sound of a record on inside but it was low. Reaching for the handle, he slowly pushed the door open and called out a tentative hello.
The room was set up for the usual festive gathering, chairs around the outside, a table of drinks, food laid out next to paper plates. Streamers hung from the lights and the small plastic tree twinkled on and off in the corner. A party had obviously taken place, because there were half-filled plastic cups and plates of food scattered around. But the place was empty now, apart from you.
You were gathering up plates of food and putting them into a garbage bag, and he had to say your name to get your attention. You jumped and looked round, but smiled when you saw him.
“Is the party over?’ he asked, confused, and you laughed, nodding.
“Connie went into labour!” you exclaimed, “her waters broke in the kitchen and then she started having contractions really close together.” You started picking up plates again and throwing them into the bag. “Steve kind of freaked out,” you laughed, “and a couple of guys decided to help them to the hospital.” You looked around. “That kind of put an end to things.”
“Was Connie ok?” he asked, and you nodded.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine. I’m just going to tidy up and get the place back to normal for when they get back.”
Javi looked at you and realised that he was happy for Steve, for Connie. And he was happy that he’d found you here, even when there was no one else. Fine that there wasn’t a party.
“You want some help?” he asked, and you handed him a bag.
The two of you tidied away the plates, covered food, washed glasses and moved the furniture back into place. You chatted to him, asking about how things were, telling him about your job, your kids. He just felt good here in your company. Found it so easy to talk, to listen. Found he felt at ease, like he always did around you. He watched your face, watched how you moved, liked being near you. Wanted to get nearer.
He was about to speak when you went off into the bedroom to check things were tidy for when they came home. Javi went to the record player and was looking through Steve’s collection when he heard you behind him.
“What do you want Javi?”
He stopped, because suddenly things seemed very clear to him. Connie had asked him that the first Christmas - told him to stay away from you because you weren’t the kind of woman he usually went for. And she’d been right, in a way. You hadn’t turned into someone different over the last two years, hadn’t stopped being you, hadn’t changed. But he had.
And now he knew what he wanted; nothing earth-shattering, nothing grand. He wanted to take you out, to spend time with you, to get to know you and to let you know him. He wanted time with you, to not rush, to find some peace. Is this what you wanted to know?
Turning, he discovered that apparently it wasn’t: you had a bottle of red in one hand and a bottle of white in the other.
“Javi?” you repeated, holding the bottles up for him to choose. He fumbled for words, so unlike himself and he saw you tilt your head, wondering what was wrong. “Are you ok?” you asked. He muttered something and turned back to the record player. Why was this so damned hard?
He heard you putting the bottles down and felt you move next to him. Your hand touched his arm, sending a shiver through him.
“You know what I haven’t heard tonight?” you said, keeping your hand there, making him look at you. “My Christmas song. Is it in there?” He knew which one you meant. Thought he could probably hum the tune for you. Flipped through the disks until he found what he was looking for.
Slipping the record out of its sleeve, he placed it on the turntable and gently lowered the needle into place. That now-familiar intro started and you closed your eyes, but then opened them and put out your hand.
“Shall we?” you asked, and he’d expected to see a wink or a laugh, but you just looked at him and he took your hand and pulled you towards him.
When you said yesterday that it's nearly Christmas
“I think I asked the right question before,” you said, looking up at him, your gaze never wavering. But he didn’t understand; was unsure now what was the right move to make, a feeling that was new to him. He shook his head slightly in confusion.
“What do you want Javi?” you asked him then again, so gently, as if you knew there was something he needed to say. He kept dancing you round, slowly, letting the moment linger, knowing what he wanted but not quite sure of how to say it.
“I want to take you out,” he said finally, “I would like….to get to know you.” He stopped dancing. “But I’m a bit out of practice.” You raised your eyebrow, smirking.
“I mean with dating,” he said, narrowing his eyes, but chuckling then.
“Oh, I see,” you said, laughing too. “That sounds like a nice idea. I’d like to get to know you too.”
The record was drawing to a close.
Hold me, kiss me….
And right there, in Steve and Connie’s living room, that’s exactly what he did. He bent towards you, feeling you slide your arms around his neck, and you looked at him expectantly with that face he had come to like so much. His lips touched yours and he felt them give and slide against his and there was no rush. Time stood still and there seemed to be so much of it, just waiting to be claimed.
He pulled back and looked at you, and you opened your eyes and smiled at him, moving your hand up into his hair.
“The record’s finished,” you said, not shifting your gaze from his.
“Shall I put it on again?” he asked, although he didn’t want to let you out of his arms for even the time it would take to reset the needle. You stood on your toes and reached up to kiss his cheek.
“Yes, please,” you whispered. And he let you go reluctantly and leant over to move the needle back to the start, keeping hold of your hand. You entwined your fingers through his and pulled him back towards you.
When your arms were once again around his neck he nuzzled your nose with his own before moving in to kiss you again, moving his hand up to cup your face. This time when the record ended, you didn’t notice. And neither did he.