Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Anthony walked out of rehab, loose shirt feeling suffocating around his thin frame. He looked around. Everything around him was so full, yet why did it feel so empty ? Why did he feel so empty…?

“No, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck !! Where’s my phone ???”

Anthony ran back into the rehab center, running to the front desk as he approached Vinnie at the front desk. Usually, Charlotte would be managing the front desk, due to her kinder voice and overall gentler demeanor, but there was a patient who just… needed her.

“Vinnie ? Where’s my bag..?” Anthony’s voice shook like it did back when he had to meet with him. He was in a similar state when he first got checked in. He was trying to keep his calm, but he felt so wrecked, paranoid, hurt.

“Calm down, Anthony. It's fine. I have your bag right here and I already called Roxie. She's on her way.”

Vinnie held his hands in hers, trying to calm him down and reassure him.

Roxie burst in, loud and energetic as she always was.

“HEYA, SUGAR !!!”

Roxie's loud voice rang through, potentially shocking or even scaring some of the unreleased patients.

Anthony chuckled.

“So close, Rox. I ain't in drag !!!”

“I know~! Whatevz !”

Roxie was always unapologetically herself, and that always made Anthony feel more at home, and safer than his friends or family ever have.

Roxie took Anthony's hand, walking out of the rehab center and over to her car. She spraypainted the car herself, you could tell, with her… design choices. Bombs, explosions, lightning bolts, and for some reason, a singular banana, which was probably meant to symbolize something else.

“Sometimes-ladies first !!”

Roxie’s ear-piercing Australian ass voice made Anthony's ears ring

Chapter Text

It’s been around 3 weeks that Anthony has been out of rehab, and he's trying to start fresh. He’s… not doing too well. He began drinking again, and it’s barely been a week that he's had access to alcohol ! Roxie’s been… trying to keep him away from alcohol. Unlike her usual habits of enabling his problems, addiction-wise.

Anthony was backstage at a bar, applying his makeup as his wig sat on the fabric stand. He dusted the light pink blush across his pale face with one of his favorite brushes, one he was gifted by his sister, Mollie.

Anthony had come out as queer, achillean specifically, days before his seventeenth birthday. He was raised in a mafia family, so they weren't the most accepting, per say.

His seventeenth birthday was both the best and, disappointingly, worst birthday ever. His sister was always the most accepting person he had known in his lifetime. She never talked bad about him or acted like he was nothing more than his sexuality, and a disgrace for it.

His father disowned him that night. Not the night he came out, but his birthday. He had nowhere to stay, so he resorted to… less healthy ways of handling his emotions. He slept around a lot, it gave him a place to stay and he could steal things to sell.

Anthony caught himself in his head and snapped out of it. He applied gems below his eyes, a few lining his eyeshadow to finish off his makeup.

He stood up and walked over to his dress, custom made by his boss to… compliment his figure. Anthony slid off his white shirt, messily discarding it onto the floor as he looked at his frame in the mirror. What could be so appealing about his lanky body that people couldn't leave it alone…?

He got the dress off of the mannequin, sliding it up his torso. The skirt and corset could never stay intact if he put it over his head… Anthony clipped the corset up at the back and then tightened the strings. It made his already thin figure appear even skinnier. He has to be handsome, so much so, to be the only one on everyone's minds, right ?

He put the wig on and took a deep breath, preparing to step out onto that stage for the first time since going to that damned rehab. A part of him wished he never got sent, yet another part wished that he never left.

The lights turned off as “Sugar,” the woman he wasn’t, walked out onto the stage, then the lights centered on the stage, turning pink. A few other lights turned on, scattered so that it wouldn't be pitch black.

Chapter Text

Hennessy was at the bar, preparing a mai tai for a customer as the lights turned off. He always hated making those stupid drinks… They had so many specific measurements — too much to worry about !

Hennessey's eyes landed on Sugar, Anthony's dragsona. Hennessy had never seen anyone in drag before, although he’d heard loads about drag, despite the shows being relatively frequent at this establishment.

The customer began getting impatient, but to be fair, he ordered a fuckin’ mai tai !! Those bastards are always impatient…

Hennessy slid the glass over to the impatient as ever customer who’d started cussing him out. Hennessy had just tuned him out, really, he was too focused on Sugar to care much at all.

Seeing Sugar awakened something in him. He wasn't completely sure what, since it wasn't the fact that he liked men, he's known that for a while now. He had a feeling that he hadn't felt in what seemed like a thousand years — love ? Maybe.

Chapter Text

After the show, Hennessy was fighting the urge to go over to Sugar. So many people were talking to… her ? Whatever. So many people were talking to her that she wouldn't even remember him, right ? Right.

Hennessy walked out from behind the bar, approaching Sugar with the confidence of a drunk lion.

Sugar was sitting on the edge of the stage with her legs crossed, laughing at what was probably some shitty joke said by some sorry excuse of a broad.

“Uh… You looked… handsome? Up there. Or pretty? Whatever the fuck drags prefer bein’ called,” Hennessy said, all but shoving the broad previously mentioned away.

Sugar looked down at Hennessy, gently grinning at him. “Darling, when I'm dressed like this, all masculinity leaves this body. Thanks anyways, sweetheart~!”

“… Good to know? Not like I’ll ever use that information, but… ‘kay. You’re welcome?” Hennessy so badly wanted to say something like ‘wipe that shit-eating grin off your face,’ but he refrained.

Sugar’s face quickly switched to one of discontent, disdain, one could dare say. Her eyebrows furrowed, eyes shooting daggers at him.

“Get me a drink, love,” Sugar commanded to one of the many men surrounding her.

“You’ve got it, sweet stuff~” the desperate sinner advanced seductively.

It was a big establishment, we'll say that now. Due to its size, there's at least 3 barkeeps working at once. The filthy sinner got a Bloody Mary, spiking it and chuckling to himself as he pranced back over to Sugar, handing it over with a smirk. Hennessy had his eyes on the sinner from the moment he walked away, and the action didn't go unnoticed.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing !??” Hennessy exclaimed to the sinner, smacking the drink out of Sugar’s hand. “This motherfucker drugged it!”

“The fuck do you think you're doing ?!? That was a perfectly fine drink, wh*re !!” Sugar jumped off the stage, slamming his hand against the floor. His bracelet, a bit too loose, broke. He stood up, ignoring it, and began to get a bit too close to Hennessy.

“So you just let people drug you all the time ??” Hennessy choked out, glaring up at Sugar as he puffed out his chest in a weak attempt to seem intimidating.

Sugar stammered, before storming off, broken, and now, useless bracelet left on the ground.

Sugar got back into her dressing room, slamming the door behind her with a violent push, and removed the wig, sliding it back onto its designated stand. As Anthony, no longer Sugar, slid his dress off, his phone rang. He quickly got out of the dress, then checked his phone. The number that called belonged to the one and only, Vitus, Anthony's boss. He frantically answered. He hadn't picked up the phone lately, he’d been… preoccupied.

“Cariño~ where’ve you been lately ? Why haven't you been answering my calls ??” Vitus's venomous voice rang through the receiver’s end.

Anthony stammered, the one thing he seemed to be good at tonight. “Vi-Vitus !! Fuck.. I was in rehab for a bit. Roxie sent me in, she was worried about me ! I'm here now though, and I'll do whatever you need me to do to make up for my missed time ! Double shoots, more intensity, filming all night, anything !!”

Anthony tried getting his way out of his boss's “hidden” abuse. Vitus has… issues, with hitting his employees. He’ll get worked up over whatever has his panties in a twist that day, throw a tantrum, trip, and just so happen to accidentally slap his employees in the face.

Maybe it’s not tripping, and maybe it’s not an accident, but for legal reasons, it absolutely is, and anyone who says otherwise, or tries to speak out about Vitus’s actions will just get taught how to behave with more of the same technique — violence. It’s always the answer !

“Whatever you say, tesoro… meet me at the studio in ten, and so help me God, if you are even one minute late you will pay.” his go-to answer, “go to the studio !!” Wowee, so original….

Chapter Text

Anthony sat in his dressing room at the studio, aching from Vitus. His throat ached harshly from Vitus choking him out.

“Fuck.. He always fuckin’ goes for the throat…”

Vitus has been very specific about the fact Anthony had to do a double shoot or four tonight. Being sent to rehab really screwed him over.

Anthony was sliding on his tight latex top as his phone vibrated, signaling what was probably Vitus spam-messaging him. He opened his phone, and as expected, it was Vitus.

“anthony, you better get the fuck up to Vincent's room. need you, baby~”, the message read. Anthony quickly typed up a response — “just getting ready quick, ill be up there in a second” — then pressed send.

Anthony got into his tight latex outfit, it was one he's worn for a few different shoots. Vitus loved it because of the way it made Anthony's figure appear.

He got up to Vitus's room where his two… colleagues were ? Although, with the way they acted, it was hard to tell what their relationship was.

Veresa was sitting on the edge of Vincent's chair whilst Vitus stood tall, back against the edge of the chair.

Vincent has a god complex, what a narcissist, therefore, his room is filled with crap only a narcissist would own. He has the power of technopathy.

He can manipulate electronics and make them show a projection of whatever is showing on said screen. News articles about him and his actions are scattered all over his walls. He takes pride in knowing how many people admire him.

Veresa, on the other hand, was scrolling on her phone with her legs crossed, bored as ever.

“Hey, V, check this shit out !! Walton is pullin’ this stupid crap again !”

She has the same power as Vincent, but different. She can make projections appear, also making them solid objects, without the manipulation of the devices themselves.

Sasha had made a deal with another overlord. She gave them what they needed, and they protected her daughters ? Bullshit. There’s no threat. It's clear that they just wanted Walton's weaponry for free.

“She did what ? Oh my God, she’s so credulous about shit like this ! This is… wow, funny, to say the least,” Vincent barely contained his laughter, wiping a tear from his eye.

“If the chick knew what people said about her daughters, she'd be fuming !!” Veresa laughed.

Vitus noticed Anthony, weirdly late. Blind ass. “There you are, corazón~! Vincent wanted to talk to you~” Vitus's voice dragged on for what felt like forever.

“Anthony, yes, I did have something… important to talk about with you,” Vincent started, smiling so very politely, in that practiced way, which would soon morph to anger, based on how this was going.

Vincent never had anything good to talk about.

“So… your little disappearance ? Yes, you went to rehab, but you have f*cked with my- ahem, Val’s company ! Going to rehab, sure, could be seen as great, but for our reputation ? No. You make us the money, in fact, the most money, in Vitus’s… district. Don’t forget, I. Control. You. We can’t have you running off like this anymore. Got it ?”

He grabbed at Anthony’s choker, pulling him up harshly, before getting back into the right headspace, and setting him down with a chuckle.

“Got. It ?”

Anthony, once again, stammered. How original — it’s like his signature phrase, at this point. He nodded, his throat wrapped tight in figurative thorns, eyes darting past Vincent.

Anthony couldn't say anything, no matter how hard he tried. Vitus and Vincent both hated the way he did that. “Get. Your shit. Together. Do you hear me, Anthony Mescaline ? Because I swear to whatever beings above me, if I have to repeat myself about some petty bullshit like this for you again, it won’t be pretty. You can wave all of your freedom goodbye.”

Vincent shot a bolt of electricity through Anthony.

“Do I make myself clear."

A shiver ran down Anthony's spine “G-Got it, Vincent. It was Roxie ! she got me sent there, she brought me there !!!”

Veresa groaned loudly. “Are we finished with this dumbass bullshit ?? This has been goin’ on for ages !!”

She held up an articulated middle finger, clearly pissed and petty.

Vincent snapped his head back, then chuckled. “Yes, yes, right. Back on task, because I believe I’ve made my point known… well enough. Thank you, my dear! Now, Anthony, go ahead and scurry off to… wherever you go.”

“You could never, maybe killing ‘im would get you halfway there, though !!” Veresa’s voice, which was still just as British as ever, rang throughout the room.

Chapter Text

Anthony had gotten back to his room, where he had accidentally broken a mirror. He got upset and took it out on a mirror, so what ? Vitus did shit like this all the fuckin’ time, so it'd be fine, right ? Right.

He nearly tore his outfit while taking it off. He didn't wanna be here any longer than necessary. He grabbed a pink cropped sweater, sliding it over his head. He didn't have much motivation to put as much thought as he usually did into his outfits.

A short black skirt in his closet caught his eyes. His stomach ached, rumbling subtly. He hadn’t been eating nearly as much as he should’ve lately, and that was saying a lot, with how little he already ate pre-rehab.

He ignored it.

Fuck it, right ?

He slid the skirt on, stepping into it with much less grace than the skirt itself, with its feminine nature.

Fuck gender-stereotypical roles and clothing.

Fuck it all to Hell and back.

Chapter Text

Anthony had arranged with Roxie to go to a diner, but he probably won’t bother to eat much anyways, if he ate at all.

“Fuck it all. All that rehab did was set me back !! I pride myself in my body and appearance — could anyone else be as flawless as the Sugar, the Anthony Mescaline ?
No. Never.”

Anthony's phone began to ring, Roxie. He’s probably not gonna even show so why should he even answer ?? Why should he even live ??? Roxie, that's why. She couldn't handle it without him.

He groaned but reluctantly answered. Roxie's voice, louder than usual, somehow, immediately crackling — more so blasting — through the receiver’s end.

“HEYA, BITCH ! Still on for that lunch later ? Feels like it’s been years since I saw ya !”

“W-Woah, Roxie !! Maybe, calm down a little ? I don't think I'll be able to make it to the diner after all.” Anthony sounded off.

“Ange, don’t fuckin’ try lyin’ ta me ! Spill ! I know somethin’s up. If ya wanna go somewhere more… chill, then we can do that, but I wanna hang out wit’ ya !”

“Roxie. I said that I don't think I'll be able to make it. Accept that.” Anthony said coldly, his voice forming ice.

“But why ? D’ya got a shoot or somethin’ ? If the answer ain’t yes, then there’s no real reason ya can’t hang out ! You’re just… blowing’ shit off. Don’t be a pussy, n’ tell me what’s up.”

“Nothin's up, Rox !! Why ain'cha lettin’ it go !??”

“Ya didn’t answer my fuckin’ question. ‘M not gonna just let it go, or whateva. I’m your friend, and as shockin’ as it may be ta hear, I give a fuck about ya ! So fuckin’ tell me what’s up, ya dingbat !”

“Roxie, I'm fine. Just… leave it. M’kay ? I'on wanna talk ‘bout it.”

“…Fine, fuck it. Won’t pressure ya inta talkin’ about it, but I don’t give a fuck how much ya protest, we’re gettin’ lunch together, or somethin’ ! Gotta do somethin’ together, like we used to !”

“Wow, shocking, little miss Octave learns and accepts boundaries ?? What a once in a lifetime occurence.”

“…Motherfucker, what. I am the best at acceptin’ boundaries, the fuck are ya on about !?”

A pause.

“Okay, fine, maybe not the best, but I am still pretty damn amazin’ at acceptin’ your boundaries ! You’re just in a fuckin’ mood… I’ll text ya the details of where we should hang later. Let me know when ya ain’t so… bitchy.”

“Wait, no, Ro-” Anthony spoke into a dial-tone.

Roxie had hung up.

That little bitch !!

Chapter Text

Anthony walked into the bar in a short, tight dress, like always. He floated with the confidence of a god(dess).

“Heya, Rox !!”

“Antonio, wassup, ya little b*tch !? How’re ya doin’ ?? So glad ya came !” Roxie nudged at him with her elbow a little, with all playful intentions, of course.

Anthony laughed as he sat next to her. “Yep ! I'm here, I'm here !”

Anthony slung his arm around her. “Whatcha wanta drink ?”

“Ehh, what the fuck, I’ll go with a bloody brain, why not ?”

“Alrighty, sugar t*ts ! Heya, barkeep !!! Tread on over here !”

Hennessy barely glanced up from the glass he was wiping, just snarling for a moment, and standing up.

Then he looked, and- was that f*ckin’ Sugar !?

Looked similar enough to be her.

Whatever. He ignored it. Told himself to just treat ‘em like regular customers.

He made his way over. “Afternoon, what can I get ya ?”

Anthony chuckled. “The chick'll get a bloody brain, n’ I'll get a long island iced tea.”

“‘Kay, sure. Those’ll be out in…” Hennessy looked back over at the bar counter, with several people waiting to be served. “Err… However long. Sit tight.”

Anthony thought of something whilst waiting. “Hey, Rox ? Isn’t a bloody brain a shot ? or are ya tryna get a shot turned int’a proper glass ?”

“Eh, I’m sure the guy’ll figure somethin’ out. Hopin’ it’ll be full, but… he might just take it at face value, like a dumbass,” Rox shrugged, eyeing the barkeep that had just walked away.

Anthony raised his voice a tad bit louder. “Heya, barkeep ?? C'mere for a sec !”

“Already heard what your… ugh… f*ckin’ friend said. Not deaf. I’ll make it work, put it in a glass or whatever,” Hennessy shouted back, waving a hand in dismissal.

F*ck these picky ass customers with their such specific measuremented drinks.

Anthony got lost in thought, staring at Hennessy adoringly.

“Hey, Sugar. Stop checkin’ that guy out, n’ f*ckin’ focus ! We need’a catch up, n’ sh*t !” Roxie swatted at Anthony’s upper arm so very gracefully. “He ain’t even a guy that looks baggable…” she mumbled under her breath.

“Ey !!? F*ck does that mean anyways, Rox ? You callin’ ‘im ugly ?”

“Well, yeah ! There’s no f*ckin’ chance you find ‘im hot at all, no f*ckin’ way ! He’s too… grumpy, o’ whateva. N’ don’t even get me started on ‘is f*ckin’ posture !” Roxie retaliated, eyeing the guy with a keen look of judgement in her eye.

“Hey ! I ain’t ever said that I find him attractive !! What'dya take me for, Rox ? I'm offended.” He dramatically put a hand at his chest.

“I see that look in your eye, babes. It’s the one that means “take me to bed n’ show me a reeaal good time,” ya sl*t !” Roxie spoke loud enough so the whole bar could probably hear her. She just laughed it off.

Anthony's face quickly switched to one of shock and embarrassment. He put his hand over her mouth. “Goddamnit, Rox !! Quiet ! The whole of town could hear ya if they tried !!” he spoke condescendingly, like a parent disciplining his child who had just sworn at an authority figure.

“My bad, my bad, don’t get ya knickers in a twist, Ant !” she laughed, looking around a little. “Now, where the f*ck is that guy? We need our drinks, the f*ck ??”

Hennessy growled subtly, rolling his eyes. “Right f*ckin’ here. Enjoy your, uh.. bloody brain in a glass, and Long Island iced tea for you.” He set the drinks down on the counter.

“Thank ya, Whiskers !!” Anthony laughed, “‘is facial hair looks like whiskers at the sides, don'tcha think ?”

“Yeah, it does, you’re so right !” Roxie snorted, slamming a fist on the counter.

Hennessy’s eyes narrowed. “…Okay, I guess it could look like that ? The f*ck ? Err… Whatever. Enjoy your drinks,” Hennessy stepped forward to walk away, but stopped when he felt a hand touch him.

What the f*ck…?

Anthony had climbed half up onto the counter and put his hand on Hennessey's head “Awhhh !! Who's a good kitty cat ??” Anthony was so f*ckin’ close to bursting out laughing.

Hennessy snarled.

Sure, he was patient, but he was not that patient.

“Excuse me ? Get your hands the f*ck off me !” Like the true gentleman he was, he harshly pushed Anthony off of the counter, although it was, of course, by accident. He’d forgotten his strength.

Anthony, however, had just been shoved off the counter, onto the damn floor. He was in shock, and most importantly, pissed.

Anthony stood back up angrily. “What in the actual f*ck was that for !!?”

“Maybe ‘cause ya treated me like a damn cat, n’ now you’re starting a damn scene !” Hennessy tried not to shout, because that would only make a fool of himself, especially considering this is where he spends seventy percent of his time.

“I aint makin’ a scene !!” Anthony exclaimed.

“Anthony, I love ya, but you are gonna be makin’ a scene in the next five f*ckin’ minutes if ya don’t figure it out. Tone it dowwnn, gonna get us kicked out, n’ then we can’t have our fun !!” Roxie told Anthony, taking his hands in hers in an attempt to calm him down, without seeming condescending.

Anthony attempted to regain his composure, doing a short breathing exercise that he never would’ve considered, had he not gone to rehab. “Thanks, Rox… you’re always here for me, sugar t*ts.”

“Yeah, yeah, whateva. It’s what I do,” Roxie chuckled, taking her hands back. “Now, you. You cannot seriously think you can push my d*ckhead best friend off of the counter, and get away with it ? You must be outta your damn mind.” She brought her index finger to Hennessy’s chest, poking it angrily.

“Excuse me ? Ain’t my f*ckin fault, he’s the one who started pettin’ me n’ sh*t ! And worse, he jumped on the counter, I didn’t do sh*t like that !” Hennessy exclaimed. “All I did was give ya both your damn drinks, even though yours was hell ta make !”

Anthony groaned. “C’mon, Rox. Let's just finish our drinks and head out.” He picked up his glass, taking a sip as if someone was rushing him to finish. Seems like he didn’t wanna be there any longer…

Chapter Text

Veresa sat in the spinning chair with her legs pretty much pressed against her chest. Vincent was feeding his sharks with other fish they got from the pet store.

“You could get fish anywhere but the pet store where they're, like, six dollars per fish, yet you still chose there ?”

“They’re more nutritious for Shok.Wav. Besides, it’s not like we’ll go bankrupt from a few six dollar fish every week…” Vincent grumbled, tossing one of the fish into the tank.

A shocked expression appeared on Veresa’s face as she clicked onto a video. Little does Vincent know, that video could ruin some of their reputation, in one district.

“What is it now, Veresa ? Did you see a lady dressed horrendously on the street ? Or worse, see a video of the… ugh, less fortunate ?” Vincent joked, tossing all the rest of the fish he held into Shok.Wav’s tank. “Num-nums, Sharky !” he cooed.

“Come here. Now.” Veresa demanded, attempting to show him if he were looking from over her shoulder. ”Look at this, V. Someone clipped Anthony freaking out at a restaurant.”

“Clipped, really ? Is this new slang ?” Vincent chuckled at his own joke, before actually processing the words spewing from Veresa’s mouth. “Wait. Sorry, you’re telling me that Anthony acted out, in public ?”

“Mhm. That’s exactly what im sayin’. He’s reeeeaaalllyy gotta watch his behavior.”

“Please tell me that video hasn’t gone viral yet…?” Vincent almost started praying to himself – his damned God complex — at that. “Don’t you control social media ? Can’t you just take down the video, or something ? This… hah, this will ruin everything about our brand, our public image !”

“Do ya seriously think I ain't tryin’ ??? Somethin's screwed up !!” Veresa exclaimed, complaining.

She tangled her fingers into her own hair, looking up. “God f*ckin’ damn it….”

“I… I’m sure it will be fine. We’ll just… talk to him. Get it in his thick skull that he cannot be behaving like that, and in public, no less.”

“Obviously !! I'm not an idiot, Vincent. I know you'll make him get it together with your… tactics.” Veresa established just how sick and tired she was of Anthony acting out like this lately.

“Want me to call Anthony here ? He shouldn't be too busy,” Veresa questioned, her phone in hand, ready to dial his number.

“Go for it. I’m nearing feeding him to Shok.Wav at this point.”

Veresa dialed Anthony’s number, the volume piercing both Vincent’s and her own ears, since she forgot to turn it down.

Anthony picked up the phone. “V, I’ll let you… Lecture him,”

Veresa addressed him in a sing-song manner, passing the phone to him. “Perfect,” Vincent started. “So, Anthony… I thought I made it clear you aren’t to be acting like that, in public especially. I know what you did. Made a scene, hm ? We can’t have that. You are under Val’s control, my control, which means how you behave reflects us, which can, in turn, damage us.”

“Fu- f*ck, Vincent…!! I didn’t mean to, it just… came out !! I’ll try to do better. I won’t freak out !” Anthony whined before Veresa intruded.

“You’ll try ??? Damn, b*tch !! If you wanna even try to get back on Val or Vince’s tolerable side, you need to do better, not try to do better !!” she exclaimed.

“Precisely what my dearest associate said. You mustn’t just try. You have to do better, otherwise you know what will be coming. From both myself and Vitus.”

He almost crushed the phone, with how tight his grip was.

“Anthony, if you don’t get your act together, although you’ve heard this from me a billion times by now, you will fucking pay. Let’s just say, I… haha… I won’t be gentle.”

Anthony shivered, not audible, of course, his mind shifting back to Vitus and his… episodes.

“Of course, Vincent,” his voice came out in a twist of cowardice, feigned confidence, and a loss of breath. The words barely escaped his throat.

“Are you sure I’ve made that clear enough? Maybe you need to… come in, to… talk? Nothing bad, of course. Just a lesson on how to behave outside. Unless you’d rather never go out again ?”