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hp_goldenage2016-03-08 12:00 pm
hpgoldenage_mod) wrote in hp_goldenage2016-03-08 12:00 pm
Entry tags:
Salt and Pepper Fest: Whatever a Moon Has Always Meant (You Are) (Albus/Gellert; PG-13)
Title: Whatever a Moon Has Always Meant (You Are)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thetrichotomy
Characters/Pairings: Albus/Gellert
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~2,500
Content/Warning(s): monologue, heavy angst
Summary/Prompt: Albus is never really alone. Not even if he wants to be. (For Prompt P17.)
A/N: Deargracerene, this prompt of yours lit my mind on fire, so thank you! I enjoyed writing this piece, so I hope you folks will enjoy reading it. Thank you also to the lovely mods who run this fest, and thank you to my betas Kira and Lisa, who really helped me flesh out this story. Credit for the title goes to e.e. cummings, from his poem, “i carry your heart with me(i carry it in.” It’s a fantastic poem; I highly recommend Googling it if you’re interested.
You are impossible.
Quite frankly, I have no idea what to say to you, after all this time.
Well, all right, one thing comes to mind:
How dare you reject my offer of a sherbet lemon?
I’ll never forgive you.
I don’t know what I expected, really, coming to see you again. Your face is still as handsome as it was yesterday. In fact, even your skin looks marvellous—what potions do you use? I can hardly see any wrinkles, although of course I would never claim you to be a young man now—that would be quite impertinent.
I…oh, excuse me, I just—it really is you. Standing there, in front of me.
Oh, stop laughing—no, actually, you should laugh. I am a foolish old man, no point in denying that.
Only a fool would talk to you right now.
Did I ever truly say goodbye to you?
It’s a question worth asking. The way you left was—so sudden.
I can hardly blame you, really, but—
No, you’re right; let’s not talk about that. Why dwell in the past, right? We only have so much future left in us; it would be a pity to waste it all.
I hope you don’t mind if I take a seat, by the way. I can only stand so long before my muscles start to protest, as they do. You won’t believe the regimen of potions I take these days just to keep myself going. I suspect it’s the same for you, though I doubt you’d fess up to it.
Yes, yes, sit down with me. Don’t be so bloody awkward about it; this isn’t exactly a first date—
No, I suppose it isn’t any sort of date at all, is it?
Date. That is a funny word, issuing from my lips. Date. Tut, tut. At our age, it seems that the only date possible for us is the calendar sort of date, don’t you agree?
Oh, fine. I’ll bring you some flowers next time; maybe that will set off a better ambiance.
Forget the flowers—I’ve a chessboard—I’ll just set it right here on the table, hold on—
There. Which side would you like to be on?
Black? An unconventional choice; normally people would choose white, rather. Is this you trying to be courteous? I must confess to being pleased to see this side of you; you’ve mellowed out, eh?
All right, all right, I’ll start; no need to get your robes in a twist. Ahem. Knight to f3.
Yes, yes, you may very well raise an eyebrow, but perhaps my pawns are content to stay where they are at present, hm? Now, go on—make your move.
Very nice. I daresay this particular pawn is now ready to stretch its legs a bit: Pawn to g3.
Why, of course I think my chess pieces have minds of their own. Don’t you?
Interesting choice. Bishop to g3—I mean, g2, sorry.
You know, it is very distracting when you pull faces at my every move. I’ll have you know that I play chess all the time! I know what I’m doing!
Of course, it is usually with myself these days…but I do find myself to be a somewhat formidable opponent, when I put my mind to it.
Kingside castle.
Incredible. You really do not care about your pawns, do you? Or is it simply that you trust them that much?
Very well, we shall see whose philosophy will win the game.
Pawn to c4.
Let us take a walk. We can even stay indoors if you want to; magic can work wonders for the view. I have been making some improvements to my atmospheric spells—I think you’ll like the result.
What? Oh, my wand? Well…I still have it, but I currently prefer this one.
Never you mind where I got the new one, what business is it of—
No. Hah. Don’t say it. Don’t you say it. The last time we ever said those words, we got into a lot of trouble, didn’t we?
Pardon? Oh, yes. The sky is beautiful tonight.
Are you sure? Very well then, budge over, we can lie on the ground—provided, of course, you can get up again.
What? It’s a natural concern for me to have about a man your age.
Oh, fine, our age; you always did know how to spot hypocrisy. But I think I can manage just as well as you can; just give me a moment—there.
This is quite lovely. A few cushioning charms, and it no longer matters that the ground isn’t grass, does it? If you close your eyes for just a moment, you can almost feel the wind in your hair. Well, I can, anyway.
Do you see that star over there, right by Orion’s belt? I think that is the one I used to write poetry about, whenever…whenever I felt like it. It all seems so silly now, but I used to feel such an affinity for that star, shining alone out there.
But these days, I think I am the moon. Or perhaps it is you who are the moon. What do you think?
Oh, don’t say that.
Because I know you don’t mean it.
What’s that? Ah! I see it, too! Well, if you want to make a wish on it, go ahead, hurry!
Hm? What would I wish for?
Well…nothing, at present. That is the frustrating thing about wishes, you know. Whenever you finally get the chance to make one, you haven’t the foggiest what you would really want. And by the time you figure it out, the moment is gone.
Yes, I had a feeling you would understand. You always do.
Have a seat. I’ve some tea, and we shall share it like the dignified old men we are.
You know, the last time we had tea together, you liked it with milk and no sugar. Is that still the truth today?
Indeed. Some things never change, and that can be comforting in some situations. Like tea.
You know, I’m not sure if I ever asked you—what’s your opinion on divination? I don’t recall you ever tipping your cup over and examining the leaves, but what do I know? I’m very forgetful now.
In fact, do you want to know something? Just the other day, I almost headed to the Great Hall in my sleepwear! The look of horror on Minerva’s face was enough to make me run right back up to retrieve my robes. I should be thankful that she was the only witness, but now the poor woman must forever live with the knowledge that I own some lovely pink penguin-print pyjamas!
Really, was it necessary for you to spit tea all over yourself? Now I must pour you another cup, you absolute horror. You owe me five Knuts for the tea you’ve so thoughtlessly wasted.
No, I will not show you my pyjamas.
Oh, stop it. I highly doubt your tea leaves demand that I must show you my pyjamas, so you can just give the saucer back to me right now.
Humph, so much for dignified! If only the world could see you now, my friend!
Come in, come in. No, you’re not interrupting anything; I was just reading this for fun. To unwind a bit, you understand?
Oh, it’s been a busy day. The paperwork alone makes being a headmaster a formidable job, not to mention all the letters from concerned parents, asking about the welfare of so and so, complaining about such and such programme. And of course my former students love to send me owls last-minute to ask for recommendation letters for such and such reason. I either bin those requests or admonish them that they should have asked me sooner, depending on my mood. And then there are the Floo calls from the Minister, who is under the misguided impression that he is always my number one priority.
I really envy you. Everyone leaves you alone, perhaps because you’re intimidating. I suppose I’m also intimidating when I want to be, but lately I’ve been too good at making my “kindly old man” face, to the point where people forget who I am.
Oh, but don’t get me wrong; I love what I do. I wouldn’t want to be Minister in a million years. Truly. This position is much more suitable for me.
I know you disagree. You think I’ve lowered myself to servant status, public servant at that. Well, that’s your opinion, and you are entitled to it. As for me, I am satisfied with my choices.
Anyway. Do you suppose you could massage my shoulders?
Heh. It was worth asking, just to see your indignant expression.
You have beautiful hands, you know. You never really use them, but I suppose that’s what makes them beautiful.
Oh, all right, I’ll go back to my book.
I want to hold you.
Oh, I know you’d never allow that. You’ve never been physically affectionate at the best of times, and I don’t expect you to change now.
It’s just that as time goes on, I can’t help but want to hold you, to stroke your hair and be aware of your breathing. It’s an irrational desire that shall never bear fruit, but this does not stop me from craving an intimacy you’d never grant.
How much time do we have left?
I don’t want you to leave yet.
Please stay.
You are always leaving me.
I am sorry about that embarrassing display earlier. I don’t know what came over me. Perhaps someone slipped something into my potions.
Oh, who am I kidding? No one could ever tamper with my protective wards without me knowing.
I think I’m just reaching that point where I don’t want to hide parts of myself anymore. Especially not from you. I still have the chance to look impressive in front of everyone else, but with you it’s already a lost cause, so why should I bother?
I’m not young anymore. I never realised how exhausting it can be to exist when you’re old. It is not just about my waning eyesight or my joint pain or even my shaky hands; it is the fact that I simply no longer have the energy I once took for granted. Instead of fighting every fight, I have to be selective, and even then I always overestimate myself.
So why pretend? Pretending is a waste of energy I simply cannot afford.
What, you have nothing to say to this?
No, it’s too late to ask for a sherbet lemon now. You should have taken it when I first offered. I’ve run out at this point.
I hate the moon. It is an imposter. Everyone thinks it glows bright, but it is only reflecting the sun’s light. Without the sun, it’s just a rock, floating dully in the sky.
Just look at it. Can you honestly say it is a decent substitute for the sun?
Oh, smile all you want. I know you think I’m mental. Perhaps I am. I have been needlessly gloomy and cynical, when really there is still a lot left to enjoy. There’s just been a lot of pressure on me these days. You know why. You’ve seen the papers, after all.
Come on. Let’s get some fresh air together; forget these atmospheric spells. I want to smell the grass with you and hear the rustling of the wind.
Don’t forget your cloak; it’s cold out there. I’ll cast some warming charms for us, but it’s always nice to have extra layers of protection.
I am…very tired.
Do you want to know something? Oh, what am I talking about—you always want to know something. Very well: I, Albus Dumbledore, am tired of people calling me brilliant.
Why are you laughing? I’m serious! I can’t possibly be more serious!
Oh for heaven’s sake, stop rattling off your silly synonyms! It is not the diction to which I object; it is the entire concept altogether.
Brilliant Albus Dumbledore, most capable wizard alive! Brilliant Albus Dumbledore, who couldn’t possibly have a single human flaw! Brilliant Albus Dumbledore, immune to all folly except for his harmless little quirks—
Yes, you see it now, don’t you, the evidence of my newest mistake? Look at it! Look at what happens when I forget my own lessons!
Oh, Severus did the best he could. I’ll give him credit for that. However, he said that the curse will eventually spread, and that I would be lucky to have a year.
I deserve this, really. I thought that…I could see A…Ariana again. For one stupid moment, I thought I could at least tell her…
Figured it out, have you? Yes, I have been picking up the old quest without you. All this time. What, does this anger you?
Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not doing this just to spite you—this has nothing to do with you at all. I have a life outside of these conversations, and sometimes that life is not nice, but it’s the only life I have, so I must go through with—what’s left of it.
And this—this thing I have with you cannot be considered a life. In fact, it is almost a death of sorts, taking up with you when all you ever do is drag me headlong into whatever lunacy you feel fit for my supposed brilliance, whatever it is you think I deserve—
I’m sorry. I didn’t to throw that at you. Are you all right?
You are wrong. I actually am myself right now, and that’s the worst part.
I am so very tired.
I might as well confess that, back then, I had a fervent desire to grow old with you.
Oh, I am sure that my younger self never thought too deeply about what that really entailed—you know, having to deal with each other’s ailments, worrying about the ever-looming spectre of death. Oh, no. You and I thought we would become masters of death, so it would have been a moot point. No, I never thought of the complications, the limitations, the frustrations of being old with you—
But the romanticism of having you in my life for a century, always in front of me, always changing whenever I changed—how could I have resisted the fantasy? You, the first and last person to ever truly understand me!
You, the first and last person to ever use that understanding to my detriment.
Oh, but that makes it sound like you knew my feelings back then and used them to hurt me, and I know that is never what you intended. Of all the people in the world, I believe that I was the last person you would ever have wanted to hurt, at the time. I was—too valuable.
No, at the end of the day, no matter how much I turn things over in my head, the fault will always lie with me.
Oh, Gellert. These moments with you have been…unspeakably precious.
But I know this can’t last.
You are—impossible.
You really are. The real you, the possible you, is rotting away in Nurmengard as I speak these words.
The you right in front of me, the beautiful you with the eye wrinkles that soften when you smile—that is the you that became impossible the moment I ever encouraged your plans.
You are gone. You always were.
I’ll never forgive myself.
Author:
thetrichotomyCharacters/Pairings: Albus/Gellert
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~2,500
Content/Warning(s): monologue, heavy angst
Summary/Prompt: Albus is never really alone. Not even if he wants to be. (For Prompt P17.)
A/N: Dear
gracerene, this prompt of yours lit my mind on fire, so thank you! I enjoyed writing this piece, so I hope you folks will enjoy reading it. Thank you also to the lovely mods who run this fest, and thank you to my betas Kira and Lisa, who really helped me flesh out this story. Credit for the title goes to e.e. cummings, from his poem, “i carry your heart with me(i carry it in.” It’s a fantastic poem; I highly recommend Googling it if you’re interested.You are impossible.
Quite frankly, I have no idea what to say to you, after all this time.
Well, all right, one thing comes to mind:
How dare you reject my offer of a sherbet lemon?
I’ll never forgive you.
I don’t know what I expected, really, coming to see you again. Your face is still as handsome as it was yesterday. In fact, even your skin looks marvellous—what potions do you use? I can hardly see any wrinkles, although of course I would never claim you to be a young man now—that would be quite impertinent.
I…oh, excuse me, I just—it really is you. Standing there, in front of me.
Oh, stop laughing—no, actually, you should laugh. I am a foolish old man, no point in denying that.
Only a fool would talk to you right now.
Did I ever truly say goodbye to you?
It’s a question worth asking. The way you left was—so sudden.
I can hardly blame you, really, but—
No, you’re right; let’s not talk about that. Why dwell in the past, right? We only have so much future left in us; it would be a pity to waste it all.
I hope you don’t mind if I take a seat, by the way. I can only stand so long before my muscles start to protest, as they do. You won’t believe the regimen of potions I take these days just to keep myself going. I suspect it’s the same for you, though I doubt you’d fess up to it.
Yes, yes, sit down with me. Don’t be so bloody awkward about it; this isn’t exactly a first date—
No, I suppose it isn’t any sort of date at all, is it?
Date. That is a funny word, issuing from my lips. Date. Tut, tut. At our age, it seems that the only date possible for us is the calendar sort of date, don’t you agree?
Oh, fine. I’ll bring you some flowers next time; maybe that will set off a better ambiance.
Forget the flowers—I’ve a chessboard—I’ll just set it right here on the table, hold on—
There. Which side would you like to be on?
Black? An unconventional choice; normally people would choose white, rather. Is this you trying to be courteous? I must confess to being pleased to see this side of you; you’ve mellowed out, eh?
All right, all right, I’ll start; no need to get your robes in a twist. Ahem. Knight to f3.
Yes, yes, you may very well raise an eyebrow, but perhaps my pawns are content to stay where they are at present, hm? Now, go on—make your move.
Very nice. I daresay this particular pawn is now ready to stretch its legs a bit: Pawn to g3.
Why, of course I think my chess pieces have minds of their own. Don’t you?
Interesting choice. Bishop to g3—I mean, g2, sorry.
You know, it is very distracting when you pull faces at my every move. I’ll have you know that I play chess all the time! I know what I’m doing!
Of course, it is usually with myself these days…but I do find myself to be a somewhat formidable opponent, when I put my mind to it.
Kingside castle.
Incredible. You really do not care about your pawns, do you? Or is it simply that you trust them that much?
Very well, we shall see whose philosophy will win the game.
Pawn to c4.
Let us take a walk. We can even stay indoors if you want to; magic can work wonders for the view. I have been making some improvements to my atmospheric spells—I think you’ll like the result.
What? Oh, my wand? Well…I still have it, but I currently prefer this one.
Never you mind where I got the new one, what business is it of—
No. Hah. Don’t say it. Don’t you say it. The last time we ever said those words, we got into a lot of trouble, didn’t we?
Pardon? Oh, yes. The sky is beautiful tonight.
Are you sure? Very well then, budge over, we can lie on the ground—provided, of course, you can get up again.
What? It’s a natural concern for me to have about a man your age.
Oh, fine, our age; you always did know how to spot hypocrisy. But I think I can manage just as well as you can; just give me a moment—there.
This is quite lovely. A few cushioning charms, and it no longer matters that the ground isn’t grass, does it? If you close your eyes for just a moment, you can almost feel the wind in your hair. Well, I can, anyway.
Do you see that star over there, right by Orion’s belt? I think that is the one I used to write poetry about, whenever…whenever I felt like it. It all seems so silly now, but I used to feel such an affinity for that star, shining alone out there.
But these days, I think I am the moon. Or perhaps it is you who are the moon. What do you think?
Oh, don’t say that.
Because I know you don’t mean it.
What’s that? Ah! I see it, too! Well, if you want to make a wish on it, go ahead, hurry!
Hm? What would I wish for?
Well…nothing, at present. That is the frustrating thing about wishes, you know. Whenever you finally get the chance to make one, you haven’t the foggiest what you would really want. And by the time you figure it out, the moment is gone.
Yes, I had a feeling you would understand. You always do.
Have a seat. I’ve some tea, and we shall share it like the dignified old men we are.
You know, the last time we had tea together, you liked it with milk and no sugar. Is that still the truth today?
Indeed. Some things never change, and that can be comforting in some situations. Like tea.
You know, I’m not sure if I ever asked you—what’s your opinion on divination? I don’t recall you ever tipping your cup over and examining the leaves, but what do I know? I’m very forgetful now.
In fact, do you want to know something? Just the other day, I almost headed to the Great Hall in my sleepwear! The look of horror on Minerva’s face was enough to make me run right back up to retrieve my robes. I should be thankful that she was the only witness, but now the poor woman must forever live with the knowledge that I own some lovely pink penguin-print pyjamas!
Really, was it necessary for you to spit tea all over yourself? Now I must pour you another cup, you absolute horror. You owe me five Knuts for the tea you’ve so thoughtlessly wasted.
No, I will not show you my pyjamas.
Oh, stop it. I highly doubt your tea leaves demand that I must show you my pyjamas, so you can just give the saucer back to me right now.
Humph, so much for dignified! If only the world could see you now, my friend!
Come in, come in. No, you’re not interrupting anything; I was just reading this for fun. To unwind a bit, you understand?
Oh, it’s been a busy day. The paperwork alone makes being a headmaster a formidable job, not to mention all the letters from concerned parents, asking about the welfare of so and so, complaining about such and such programme. And of course my former students love to send me owls last-minute to ask for recommendation letters for such and such reason. I either bin those requests or admonish them that they should have asked me sooner, depending on my mood. And then there are the Floo calls from the Minister, who is under the misguided impression that he is always my number one priority.
I really envy you. Everyone leaves you alone, perhaps because you’re intimidating. I suppose I’m also intimidating when I want to be, but lately I’ve been too good at making my “kindly old man” face, to the point where people forget who I am.
Oh, but don’t get me wrong; I love what I do. I wouldn’t want to be Minister in a million years. Truly. This position is much more suitable for me.
I know you disagree. You think I’ve lowered myself to servant status, public servant at that. Well, that’s your opinion, and you are entitled to it. As for me, I am satisfied with my choices.
Anyway. Do you suppose you could massage my shoulders?
Heh. It was worth asking, just to see your indignant expression.
You have beautiful hands, you know. You never really use them, but I suppose that’s what makes them beautiful.
Oh, all right, I’ll go back to my book.
I want to hold you.
Oh, I know you’d never allow that. You’ve never been physically affectionate at the best of times, and I don’t expect you to change now.
It’s just that as time goes on, I can’t help but want to hold you, to stroke your hair and be aware of your breathing. It’s an irrational desire that shall never bear fruit, but this does not stop me from craving an intimacy you’d never grant.
How much time do we have left?
I don’t want you to leave yet.
Please stay.
You are always leaving me.
I am sorry about that embarrassing display earlier. I don’t know what came over me. Perhaps someone slipped something into my potions.
Oh, who am I kidding? No one could ever tamper with my protective wards without me knowing.
I think I’m just reaching that point where I don’t want to hide parts of myself anymore. Especially not from you. I still have the chance to look impressive in front of everyone else, but with you it’s already a lost cause, so why should I bother?
I’m not young anymore. I never realised how exhausting it can be to exist when you’re old. It is not just about my waning eyesight or my joint pain or even my shaky hands; it is the fact that I simply no longer have the energy I once took for granted. Instead of fighting every fight, I have to be selective, and even then I always overestimate myself.
So why pretend? Pretending is a waste of energy I simply cannot afford.
What, you have nothing to say to this?
No, it’s too late to ask for a sherbet lemon now. You should have taken it when I first offered. I’ve run out at this point.
I hate the moon. It is an imposter. Everyone thinks it glows bright, but it is only reflecting the sun’s light. Without the sun, it’s just a rock, floating dully in the sky.
Just look at it. Can you honestly say it is a decent substitute for the sun?
Oh, smile all you want. I know you think I’m mental. Perhaps I am. I have been needlessly gloomy and cynical, when really there is still a lot left to enjoy. There’s just been a lot of pressure on me these days. You know why. You’ve seen the papers, after all.
Come on. Let’s get some fresh air together; forget these atmospheric spells. I want to smell the grass with you and hear the rustling of the wind.
Don’t forget your cloak; it’s cold out there. I’ll cast some warming charms for us, but it’s always nice to have extra layers of protection.
I am…very tired.
Do you want to know something? Oh, what am I talking about—you always want to know something. Very well: I, Albus Dumbledore, am tired of people calling me brilliant.
Why are you laughing? I’m serious! I can’t possibly be more serious!
Oh for heaven’s sake, stop rattling off your silly synonyms! It is not the diction to which I object; it is the entire concept altogether.
Brilliant Albus Dumbledore, most capable wizard alive! Brilliant Albus Dumbledore, who couldn’t possibly have a single human flaw! Brilliant Albus Dumbledore, immune to all folly except for his harmless little quirks—
Yes, you see it now, don’t you, the evidence of my newest mistake? Look at it! Look at what happens when I forget my own lessons!
Oh, Severus did the best he could. I’ll give him credit for that. However, he said that the curse will eventually spread, and that I would be lucky to have a year.
I deserve this, really. I thought that…I could see A…Ariana again. For one stupid moment, I thought I could at least tell her…
Figured it out, have you? Yes, I have been picking up the old quest without you. All this time. What, does this anger you?
Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not doing this just to spite you—this has nothing to do with you at all. I have a life outside of these conversations, and sometimes that life is not nice, but it’s the only life I have, so I must go through with—what’s left of it.
And this—this thing I have with you cannot be considered a life. In fact, it is almost a death of sorts, taking up with you when all you ever do is drag me headlong into whatever lunacy you feel fit for my supposed brilliance, whatever it is you think I deserve—
I’m sorry. I didn’t to throw that at you. Are you all right?
You are wrong. I actually am myself right now, and that’s the worst part.
I am so very tired.
I might as well confess that, back then, I had a fervent desire to grow old with you.
Oh, I am sure that my younger self never thought too deeply about what that really entailed—you know, having to deal with each other’s ailments, worrying about the ever-looming spectre of death. Oh, no. You and I thought we would become masters of death, so it would have been a moot point. No, I never thought of the complications, the limitations, the frustrations of being old with you—
But the romanticism of having you in my life for a century, always in front of me, always changing whenever I changed—how could I have resisted the fantasy? You, the first and last person to ever truly understand me!
You, the first and last person to ever use that understanding to my detriment.
Oh, but that makes it sound like you knew my feelings back then and used them to hurt me, and I know that is never what you intended. Of all the people in the world, I believe that I was the last person you would ever have wanted to hurt, at the time. I was—too valuable.
No, at the end of the day, no matter how much I turn things over in my head, the fault will always lie with me.
Oh, Gellert. These moments with you have been…unspeakably precious.
But I know this can’t last.
You are—impossible.
You really are. The real you, the possible you, is rotting away in Nurmengard as I speak these words.
The you right in front of me, the beautiful you with the eye wrinkles that soften when you smile—that is the you that became impossible the moment I ever encouraged your plans.
You are gone. You always were.
I’ll never forgive myself.
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This is gorgeously done, if bittersweet and sad.
So many regrets. *shakes head*
Beautiful work.
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There were so many lovely lines, like:
That is the frustrating thing about wishes, you know. Whenever you finally get the chance to make one, you haven’t the foggiest what you would really want. And by the time you figure it out, the moment is gone.
Just perfection! Really wonderful work. :D
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Great lines:
Why dwell in the past, right? We only have so much future left in us
The essence of age
but I do find myself to be a somewhat formidable opponent, when I put my mind to it.
Ha! the essence of Albus, in a way. The "pawn" metaphor works well in this section, too.
And by the time you figure it out, the moment is gone.
Indeed
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