Jamie 4

[Lothian]

Jamie

I : II : III

?Whit the ? how ??? tried Greg, before settling on a surprised ?Fuck me!?

Jim obliged, moving forward, but Greg backed away, yelling ?Git thi fuck ootae here!?

Greg was terrified. The ambience of the evening was ruined by this monsterous burglar and all he could think of was to escape with his life. Where the hell had it come from? Then a sudden thought, Jamie! It had to have gotten past Jamie first, but the little guy was out on his feet so unlikely to have been able to do anything. He probably wouldn?t be able to raise the alarm. No, that wasn?t right. There was something he was overlooking. Fear clouded his mind as it reported back that he had two options ? fight or flight. Fighting wasn?t really an option, was it? The thing was massive, it was dangerously close to ceiling height and looked capable of ripping him in half without a second thought.

Jim took a step closer.

Greg found himself pressed up against the wall, the kitchen door a little to his left. Inspiration struck, and he darted into the kitchen. The creature did not follow. Blinking in the harsh fluorescent light he frantically sought out a knife, alighting on the largest he could find. Still no sign of it. He was temporarily safe, but had no means of raising the alarm; his phone remained in the other room. He would have to face the creature.

Aware that he was close to hyperventilation, he attempted to calm himself down. The hand holding the knife shook violently. He gazed down at it, willing it to steady, but to no avail. He tried a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth. That helped.

Gulping, he stepped back into the other room, eyes darting from left to right. The intruder wasn?t there. He hadn?t heard it leave, so where was it ? where was he? Taking another calming breath, Greg noticed a low figure behind the couch, but was unable to make it out in the gloom. Was it the intruder or Jamie? He approached the couch cautiously and soon realised that it was too large to be his friend. Summoning up his most commanding voice he stated, ?Ahm airmed, an? yir no welcome. Leave noo ahr ah?ll call the polis.?

The figure did not move.

Taking another step closer, Greg?s view improved. The beast had attempted to conceal its height by crouching down. No, not crouching. Kneeling. ?Why would it do that?? he asked himself, as he took another step forward.

The creature gazed at him intently. It was on its knees. As it saw him approach, it raised its arms to head height, brought the wrists together and twisted its arms so the hands were palm upwards. Then it bowed its head.

?Whit the ??? muttered Greg. None of this situation made any sense, but the creature was still between him and his phone. ?Aye, ahm airmed.? he affirmed, ?bit if ye behave ye?ll nae be hurt. Noo, move.? He gestured to the left.

The creature remained still, head bowed.

?Come oan! Move!? Greg tried, louder and growing in confidence.

No response.

Greg?s mind tried to assess the situation. Now that he had the upper hand, his body chemistry might allow the return of thought as the primacy of instinct declined. Once more his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom. A thought struck; he?d seen the intruder before.

?The Clutha.? he said quietly, then in a firmer voice, ?Ye wur in the Clutha the ither nicht. Ye sim sortie stalker, eh??

No response.

Greg?s mind tried to race, but the evening of drinking and dope had handicapped the process. There was still something vital he was missing.

?Is it me??

No reply.

?Jamie. It?s Jamie. Yir pervin? aifter him!?

The creature looked up, and Greg gazed into its face. An intelligence burned through the eyes, a familiar intelligence.

His mind supplied the missing information. He stepped back in shock.

?Nah. Naw, ye cannae. ?S no possible!? but his head wouldn?t allow him to escape the conclusion; a few moments ago he?d seen Jamie grow into this thing! Clearly now on a roll, his mind informed him that the creature had emerged from the same alley into which Jamie had disappeared, and at the same time.

He shook his head, ?Jamie??

A set of shining white teeth appeared through the beard. ?Jim.? it said.

?Naw ? yir no? ?? he began, as the creature began to rise. Adrenaline flooded through Greg?s system once more, he brandished the knife, screaming ?Did ah fuckin? tell ye tae move? Did ah??

The creature slowed its motion but did not stop. It moved an arm over to the couch, and slowly picked up a shredded blue shirt which it then waved in Greg?s general direction. It was Jamie?s shirt.

?Bit, how?? Greg was slowly realising that his head wouldn?t allow him to draw any other conclusions ? the figure before him was Jamie.

Jim pulled a shock of hair back from round his neck, exposing the medallion, tied on with a thin leather strap.

?Yir charm? Naw, Jamie, it?s a fake.?

Jim slowly got up to his feet and made a gesture towards his open mouth with one hand, then shrugged. Once again he said ?Jim.? And shrugged.

?Sure, well ah guess it suits ye mair than Jamie in yir current ? well ? yir current whitever.? Greg offered, ?Bit whit ur ye tryin? tae say??

Jim silently opened his mouth once or twice, then shrugged again.

It made no sense to Greg, but then his mind began to tick over. The name was a single syllable, pronounced almost as a grunt. ? Ye cin say yir name an? that?s it? This is fucked up.? Greg paused. Then grinned. ?Bit it?s supposed tae be fucked up, eh? It?s a fuckin? dream!? He gasped, ?An whit a fuckin? dream ye ur. Christ knows how ahm gonnae look himself in the face the morn, bit whit the hell, eh? A fuckin? wet dream like ye only comes along once in a blue moon!? He laughed, shaking his head.

Jim was bemused, Greg was clearly struggling with the situation, but it wasn?t every day your friend more than doubled in mass before your very eyes. Greg?s grip on the knife wasn?t so firm now, his knuckles no longer so white. Probably best just to go with the flow.

Jim took a step towards Greg, pointing at the knife.

?Whit? Oh! Aye.? Greg laid the knife down. ?It widnae dae tae wake masel? up, wid it? So, wet dream, whit?re we daein?? Your choice ir mine??

Jim looked squarely at him, taking a further step closer. Then another. The gaze continued.

?Stands tae reason, eh??

They met, kissing gently then with increasing intensity. Greg embraced Jim, realising that his arms wouldn?t quite stretch the full way round. As their bodies intertwined, Greg felt the back of a dining chair press between them. Opening his eyes, he realized that the chairs were on the other side of the room and he?d encountered an entirely different sort of wood.

One of Jim?s arms slipped behind Greg, peeling him off the wall, whilst the other slipped down between the pair. Feeling the hand give his balls a firm squeeze, Greg?s mouth opened slightly in surprise and Jim?s tongue entered his mouth. Still locked in embrace, Jim picked his partner up and carried him through to Greg?s small bedroom.

Greg was dimly aware of the change of location, and then felt a tear then a breeze across his back as Jim tore his t-shirt from him. The kiss ended as Jim?s tongue moved slowly down over Greg?s chest and ambled over his abdomen. Two large hands quickly undid Greg?s belt and dropped his trousers, before the tongue continued down, engulfing his penis, expertly massaging it.

In the throes of ecstasy, Greg caressed Jim?s head with both hands, feeling the rocking motion. With a sudden gasp, he tensed and came, shooting in time with the continuing rhythm until he could do so no more.

The head began to work its way back up and shortly Greg was gazing back into the strong blue eyes. Without a word, he began to drift down, marveling at the two solid expanses of pec, accentuated by round, firm, brown nipples. He could feel the ridges of the abdomen ripple across his chin as he continued and strong hands support the back of his head as Jim began to buck to his pace. Quickly removing the remains of Jamie?s trousers, Jim?s dick seemed to swell further now out of confinement. Greg worked his way down to the base, then slowly up, before drooling on and then accepting the firm head. He could feel the grip of Jim?s hands tighten on the back of his head as he continued to work, teasing by increasing and then slowing his pace. The grip became tighter, verging on painful as he stretched his tongue down and began to move more urgently and rapidly. Finally, Jim came, and came with a force and volume that Greg quickly smothered a choke. ?Best knob gag I?ve had in ages.? he thought, swallowing and continuing his work.

Soon he was looking back into the dancing eyes, but for a moment only. In a fluid motion, they collapsed onto the bed, naked, Jim nuzzling the back of Greg?s neck and growing hard once more as his hand drifted towards Greg?s crotch. As he later drifted off to sleep, Greg?s abiding memory was of the pleasure of being engulfed by Jim, as they lay head to head with Jim?s hand slowly pumping in opposite time to his groin.

****

It wasn?t a dream.

Greg awoke late the next morning to see a slumbering figure beside him. Gazing round, he saw that the room was even untidier than usual. An empty bottle of wine lay on the floor next to an ash tray. There was no sign of the sheets. Gently removing a heavy arm from round his shoulder, he pulled on a t-shirt and wandered through to the kitchen to get some water. On reflection, it wasn?t such a bad hangover; he was able to function and his recollection of the previous evening was perfect. Unlikely, but perfect. His mind drifted back over it.

Furrowing his eyebrows slightly, he couldn?t escape the conclusion; the almost mute giant was Jamie. Impossible, yet possible, after all he was asleep in the next room. Greg collected his digital camera and returned to the bedroom, taking several photos of the prone figure in bed. He didn?t look quite as big as he had last night, though he was still substantial. The hair wasn?t so long, the beard merely stubble and the feet only just hung over the edge of the bed. The figure was, however, considerably more ? well, more everything than Jamie had been. It rolled over, still asleep.

Greg closed the door and waited.

****

Around an hour later, a fully-clothed Greg was trying and failing to watch television. The bedroom door opened and the large figure emerged. Naked. It slumped down on the couch next to him and kissed his forehead, yawned, then leaned into him.

?Mornin?? commented Greg, a little warily. ?Sleep well??

?Aye,? came the response. ?Once you?d tired me out.? A brief smile. ?So, where d?ye want to start??

Greg clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, furrowed his brow and looked up at Jim. ?By saying ?thanks??? he offered.

A weary grin. ?Guid start, man. Thanks to you too. Ah?m not quite sure myself how this?, he gestured towards himself. ?It?s a time of ?? he paused, ?transition, I guess. It?ll even out over time.?

?Transition?? echoed Greg. ? ?s that a new steroid??

?Nah, it?s ? it?s? Jim faltered. ?It?s this? he grabbed the charm and raised it from his chest. ?I?m not sure how, the knowledge is fading. I knew last night. Damn, it was all so clear last night, but it?s fading.?

?Ye couldnae speak at aw last nicht.? commented Greg. ?Cannae handle yer drugs, eh, big man??

?It?s no that. It?s literally this,? Jim waved the medallion again, ?but when I understand it, I can?t speak. I can?t write. I know what to say, I know what others are saying to me, but I just can?t get it out.? He frowned, ?An? I?m no a dream.?

?Aye, well ?? Greg trailed off. ?Hungry??

Jim nodded.

?I?ll see what?s left tae eat. Shower?s through there.? He gestured towards another door.

Jim got up and strode off, Greg retreated to the kitchen.

****

Half an hour later, Jamie entered the room, slightly dazed, wrapped in a towel.

?It?s you!? Greg was surprised. ?Bit smaller, aincha??

Jamie looked puzzled. ?Are you still high?? He shrugged, ?Must?ve been some night ? I fell asleep in the shower.?

?Naw, ye ?? Greg began. ?Well, ye ? ye dinnae remembir??

?Booze, spliffs and tunes? Sure. Don?t remember falling asleep though.?

Greg produced his camera and quickly found the photos he?d taken earlier. ?Ye dinnae remember this??

Jamie looked down at the small screen. Then back up at Greg. ?Photoshop?s great, eh? I wasn?t that out of it, but it?s a nice try.? He located his watch. ?I?m late. I?ve missed two lectures and I?ve got a tutorial in half an hour. Where?s my clothes??

Greg pointed to the rags on the floor.

?Wonderful. Maybe you should grow up!? snapped Jamie. ?Why the hell did you do that? Did it give you a laugh for five minutes?? He shook his head and disappeared into Greg?s room, muttering ?I?ll borrow yours.?

He emerged a couple of minutes later, and headed for the front door. ?See you.?

Greg called ?Wait!?

Jamie paused..

?We need tae talk. I need tae ?? he trailed off. ?Just come ower taenight, right??

Jamie nodded and left.

****

The day passed for Jamie in much the same as any other. Time was spent in small tutorial rooms where gazes were avoided as leaders and students alike covered up the fact that they were unfamiliar with the subject material. Time was spent in lecture halls, frantically trying to keep pace with lecturers, who?d used the same material for the past ten years. Time was spent under a tree, catching up on some sleep and then time was spent on the bus home to his flat.

A note was pinned to his room door. ?Jamie. Football.Tonight.?

Normally this would have been enough to send him into a spiral of inadequacy, but the evening was warm and sunny and the idea was not unappealing. ?Might even enjoy it.? he told himself as he located his kit, munching on kitchen leftovers.

His phone announced that a message had been received. ?tonite?? It was from Greg. Jamie quickly tapped in a response, ?sure ftbl 1st u l8r?

An hour later, he was at the usual five-a-side pitch, running slightly late. The teams were already on the park. Waving apologetically at the players warming up, he hurried into the locker complex and tugged on his baggy shirt and shorts, before pulling his trainers back on. Stowing his bag in a locker, he jogged his way out to the field.

Through the westerly glare of the evening sun he could see his team (and flat) mates gathering for their usual talk. As usual, Tom assumed the captain?s role, ?It?s gone oan long enough. Wi cannae git beat tonight.? The others muttered their agreement. ?An?, Jamie, fur fuck?s sake try to keep up.? More agreement. Jamie nodded and they spread out over the pitch.

Jamie moved to the left wing, and Tom took up his usual position on the right. Their opponents moved out too; Dave once more pairing up with Jamie. The two teams had played each other dozens of times over the past year or so and the routine was well-established. Dave was the weakest link in their team, but he was readily able to take care of Jamie. Tom, as his team?s superior player needed a little more to nullify him and was paired up with a large guy named Mike, the opposing captain.

The game kicked off and Jamie felt the usual terror overtake him. All around, bodies flew, pursuing the ball and screaming unintelligible orders and insults. He tried to keep up, tried to contribute but always seemed to end up either isolated or blundering into his own team?s attempts to score.

The ball whistled past him, hotly pursued by Dave, who sent him to the ground as he passed. Dave advanced and knocked the ball over to Mike, who?d managed skip in front of Tom. Mike struck the ball sweetly into the goal and turned in triumph.

Tom applauded Jamie sarchastically, ?Well dun. Yir an asset.?

The pattern for the first half was set, and a breathless Jamie trudged off at halftime. They were three goals down with little chance of recovery. The sun had gone and clouds threatened rain in the near future.

Ignored by his flatmates during the break, Jamie returned to the field to begin the second half. The sun was rapidly disappearing and a chill had descended. He scratched an itch round his neck, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to put his mind in the game.

Dave barged his shoulder. ?Aw, sorrae, man. Ah guess ah should save it fur the game.?

Jamie opened his eyes. Transition.

It all looked different.

He understood.

He understood his teams strengths.

He understood the opponents weaknesses.

The game kicked off, and he quickly tried to impose himself. As the ball flew towards Dave, he intercepted and knocked it down towards Colin, his team?s striker. A lazy bastard, but with a good eye for goal. Surprised at the accuracy of the pass, Colin miskicked and lost the ball to the goalkeeper, waving an apologetic arm in Jamie?s direction.

What was different? The game seemed to have slowed. Instead of observing a chaotic mass and drifting in and out of it, Jamie realized that at a glance he knew exactly what all the players were doing. Dave was pissed off at having missed the pass and would aim to take Jamie out the next opportunity. Colin was kicking himself at having missed a relatively golden opportunity. Tom and Michael had missed most of the incident and were each more involved with gaining an advantage over the other. It was all so simple; how had he failed to notice it before?

The game proceeded, and sure enough the next time the ball drifted over to Dave and Jamie, Dave concentrated on removing his opponent rather than furthering the play. Jamie paused half a step, skipped over the low flying torso of Dave and made contact with the ball, sending it over to Tom who smacked it off the opposing goal post. Turning and cursing, Tom gave Jamie a grudging nod. ?No? bad.?

Taking another breath, Jamie reassessed his surroundings. Dave was really pissed now but might wait to exact his revenge. Over the next five minutes, Jamie won more than he lost, but kept full attention on the ebb and flow of the game and the participants therein.

The heavens opened, and a heavy stream of rain began to descend. The sun was concealed behind heavy black clouds. Tom passed the ball a few feet in front of Jamie. Adjusting his stride to collect it cleanly, Jamie felt a sharp pain to his calf as Dave dove through from behind him, ostensibly to win the ball, but actually to remove his opponent. Jamie hit the ground and rolled over, clutching the injured limb.

?Fuckin? smart arse? thought Dave as his opponent returned to his feet. A combination of rain and the wet ground had soaked him through. ?It must be some trick of the light,? thought Dave, ?but he looks bigger.? Dismissing it, he returned to the game.

Jamie remained calm. His new-found sense of awareness assured him that the foul had been simply to rile him and to cause a loss of concentration. He had no intention of giving in. His hand swept the hair from his eyes and moved down to pull his shirt down over his exposed, flat stomach. He shot Dave a smile and a bobbing nod, ?So we?re playing this way, are we??

Each of the next three encounters saw Dave spread out on the ground, with Jamie stood over him, offering him a helping hand to him get to his feet.

As play restarted once more, Jamie found the ball at his feet and a clearly furious Dave bearing down on him. Driving towards Dave, Jamie faked a spin to the left, before moving off to the right. Dave stuck out a fist, which connected with Jamie?s nose, causing it to spray blood and sending him to the ground.

The eight other players converged on the incident, yelling and protesting the cause of their own player. There was no referee, so the two captains met to dispense justice. They conferred for a moment, both waving their arms and jabbing fingers at the face of the other. Finally, Mike escorted Dave off the field, banished for violent conduct.

Tom helped Jamie to his feet. ?There?s only ten minutes left and we?re still three down. Mike knows he?ll still win and this?ll help keep the peace.? Brushing Jamie down, he looked at his team-mate?s shoulders. ?Rough game, eh? But you?re doing well, mate.?

Jamie followed his gaze and saw tears in his shirt at each shoulder.

The game restarted. The opponents re-organised, and Jamie found himself facing Mike. Losing their first tustle, Jamie compared that play of his two opponents. There was no question that Mike was superior to Dave; he was bigger, stronger, had a greater game intelligence and was substantially quicker too.

?You?re good.? he commented during the next break in play.

?Damn right.? came the response.

?But not that good.?

Silence.

The ball flew over a few seconds later. Jamie lunged for it, deflecting it to the ground with his chest. His left foot gained control over it with a touch. Mike rounded him, grabbing his right shoulder and trying to regain the initiative. Bringing his right shoulder round, Jamie blocked Mike?s path and found himself with space to centre a pass. Chipping the ball forward, he found Colin, who stretched his left foot out and sent the ball beyond the flailing goalkeeper.

The team gathered and embraced Colin, scorer of their first goal in a fortnight.

The play raged on, the rained poured down, but there was no further scoring that day.

As the players trudged off the field, Tom commented to Jamie, ?We?ll expect that every time from now on. Ye comin? out fir a drink??

Jamie shook his head. ?Prior commitment.?

?Never mind. See ye back at the flat.?

In the changing complex, Jamie peeled the soaking shirt off. There was a large tear at the top of its left arm and the right was barely still attached. Kicking off his trainers, he undressed, grabbed a towel and walked over to the showers. He caught a glimpse of himself in one of the mirrors. It wasn?t him, but at the same time it was. He seemed bigger, more defined. Transition. He heard the door swing behind him and snapped out of his thought, entering the showers.

Mike threw down his soaking kit. Another victory, but this had been hard fought and not the usual pushover. His back ached, and he rubbed an arm down it, seeking relief. He heard a shower start up. He?d passed most of the guys out in the corridor; they were just going home in their already-wet kit. It must be the big blond guy, Jamie.

Grabbing his towel, he walked over to the showers and started one up. Sure enough Jamie was on the opposite side of the block, head against the wall, arms up rubbing the back of his head.

?Good game.? Mike commented.

Jamie grunted his agreement. ?Good win for ye.? He said grudgingly. ?But we?ll see next time.?

?We will,? agreed Mike. ?Ye?s wur nae pushovers taenight. We usually beat ye easy, but ?? he looked over at the large figure- he?d never noticed how massive Jamie was, from the taut calf muscles up to the bulging thighs, the tight arse and waist, leading to the wide shoulders and explosive arms. ?it?s getting harder.?

Jamie turned and cocked his head to one side. ?No kidding man.?

Mike looked confused.

Jamie nodded down at Mike?s groin and erect penis. ?Like what you see then?? He walked over to his bag, pulled out a phone and turned it off.

Mike looked down. Hard on the basis of one game and a peek in the shower? His dick said yes. Never one to pass up an opportunity, he turned to Jamie and asked, ?Whit?re ye daein? tonight??

Jamie looked at Mike?s glistening torso and responded matter-of-factly ?You.?

He walked slowly towards Mike and began to sing in a low voice,

I?m all that you see, you want to see,
So come and dance with me Michael.
So close now, so close now,
So come and dance with me, come and dance with me.

And thought, ?Nothing matters now. Yeah.?

[Ryne]

This story is great, but also greatly confusing at the same time... It's not a "BAD" thing at all though! Breaking a language barrier is always nice to see, even though it can be hard to understand by some. Personally, my grand dad was Scottish, along with my father, so this was easy to understand(i picked up most of the accent as well)

Anyway, what confuses me is i don't quite know whats going on in terms of storyline involving his growth. I mean, is he becoming this beast? Are they sharing a body? Are they merging? I'm still not quite sure...

Keep it coming though, this is excellent!

[Lothian]

Cryptic answer? ‘Transition’

Longer answer? It’ll become clearer in time. Where’s the fun in giving the reader all the answers at first.

Great big answer? I’ll stick it in black text, because it might give away a bit of the future direction, which not everyone might want to know in advance. If you want to see, just highlight the gap below.
[COLOR=Yellow]
[COLOR=Black]Yeah, I know it’s all a bit sketchy. It’s probably due to two things.

[/COLOR][/COLOR] [COLOR=Black]First, practical reason. I’ve not done this sort of thing in years. Well, since last century actually. And then it was in school. I do use the written word a lot but in a hugely factual way, so conveying fiction’s a bit strange and feels clumsy. That’s probably why I’m taking so many real-life elements and twisting them to fit.

[/COLOR] [COLOR=Black]Second, storytelling reason. It’s supposed to be a bit confusing. I’m trying to throw you in with the main characters and as they’ve really not got much of a clue what the fuck’s going on neither should the reader. I’ve sketched out a rough plotline and I reckon we’re about a half or a third through it (depends on how things go when I try to flesh them out) and we’re now at the point where an explanation is due- we're going to need it to further the plot shortly. There was going to be a start to it in the ‘morning after’ scene with Jamie and Greg, but the football game seemed to work much better with Jamie experiencing things largely in ignorance rather than fully aware of the ongoing whatever it is.

[/COLOR] [COLOR=Black]And what’s going on with the transformations theselves? Yeah. Again, I know I’m being a bit sketchy. It’s a sliding scale sort of thing, rather than an on/off switch. The Beast/Jim knows fully what he is. Jamie dreams of the Beast, but has no idea that he’s becoming it. First time (with White Shirt in the alley) the charm’s in the box which no-one can open, at a time of extreme danger it’s somehow removed from the box and then the change is traumatic and overtakes Jamie all at once, like of sort of a cough or other involuntary action. Thereafter the genie’s out the bottle. With the charm round his neck the process can occur much more readily – almost at the police station, and then as he drifts into unconsciousness whilst pished and stoned at Greg’s flat. Initially, Jamie’s entirely out of it – the change overwhelms him – and it feels like he’s had a blackout when he awakes once more. Because Jamie (the ‘thinking’ part of the process) is out, the Beast/Jim struggles with speech and higher thought, but as time goes on the size diminishes and Jamie becomes a more active part of the process, allowing speech and less reliance on instinct. Then, during the football game, a transformation begins, this time with Jamie remaining aware, perhaps because it’s only a partial move up the scale rather than the previous explosive changes.

[/COLOR] [COLOR=Black]In short, what was a violent and traumatic experience is happening with increasing ease as Jamie grows accustomed to it. Perhaps it’s only a matter of time before it’s like stepping between two rooms.

[/COLOR] [COLOR=Black]But what’s causing it? A silly wee bit of metal? Nah. Tune in next time.[/COLOR]

I'm finally getting better with the dialect, but find it slowing the pace a bit as I translate.
Mike

[ts1976]

i like this story so very much! I can't wait to read more!

[Lothian]

Originally Posted by philat999

I'm finally getting better with the dialect, but find it slowing the pace a bit as I translate.
Mike

Whilst I've never had any previous complaints about the Scots tongue, would it help if I posted two versions in the same thread - the colloquial one and and Anglicized version?

Originally Posted by ts1976

i like this story so very much! I can't wait to read more!

Hurrah! Then I shall write more. But it may take a week or so. This time I really must write a couple before I post - the next two are a bit tricky and will need to be consistent with each other so best that both were written before posting.