Strangetown, here we come: Chapter Ten

[strangetomato]

Warnings: language, sexual situations, drug use


Chapter Ten





Pascal was spying on the Beakers. He knew it wasn't ethical, but he didn't care. He had to find out if Nervous Subject was okay. He had a very bad feeling about the day that Nervous had shown up at his house, and he hadn't heard from Nervous since. Not that he really expected to. Pascal knew it was dangerous for Nervous to leave the Beaker mansion, just as it would equally dangerous for Pascal to go over there to see him. It's not like he could pick up the phone and call him, either, so he was left to spying with his telescope.

There had been no sign of Nervous outside the Beaker mansion for weeks and weeks. This worried Pascal greatly.




Also worrying was the fact that he'd been observing some unusual activity on the roof of the Beaker mansion. Loki had been going in and out of the highest tower with increased regularity.




Pascal worried about that, and he was certain that Loki was up to something, and that it wasn't good. Had he locked Nervous up there? He had to find out what was going on, but how could he? Going over there was not an option, at least not for him. It occurred to him, though, that maybe he could find someone else to go in his place.

He decided to do what he always did in a time of crisis. He'd go visit Lola. Her wisdom and level head would surely help him work out a plan.




He dropped by after work, and Lola was thrilled to see him, as always.




They discussed the situation with Nervous and the Beakers over a game of chess, as was their custom during difficult situations.

"Do you really think that they might have harmed him, Paz?"

"I wouldn't put it past them. Loki is just a monster, plain and simple. I had him as a lab partner one year in school, and you should have seen him when we dissected a frog. He had this awful grin on his face the whole time, and then, whenever I spoke, he'd look at me with the very same grin."

"I hear that Circe is even worse."

"Well, don't dare say that around Vidcund, but yes, she's nobody you'd ever want to be around."




"So, you really think that sending someone in is the way to go?"

"Yes, but we'd have to trick them, which is a frightening thought in itself." Especially if they got caught, Pascal worried, but didn't mention. Lola would understand what he meant anyway.

"We could come up with some sort of cover." Lola suggested. "Something that will get them to open their door and let someone in. We'll appeal to their vanity. That's the way to do it."

"Yes, but who can we send?" Pascal pondered. "You and Chloe are out of the question too. He knows you, and he'd suspect what was going on."




"There's Erin and Kristen." Said Lola. "Erin could go there without any suspicion from Loki."

"I really don't know about her, Lola."

"Oh, come on, Paz." Lola smiled. "I wouldn't worry about Erin. If anything, she deserves your pity."




Erin had recently lost yet another job. The latest of several, Lola explained. She had also taken the opportunity to go get a haircut, since she figured she had nothing left to lose.




"The hair looks much better, I think," said Lola.




Erin was doubly disappointed with the loss of this last job, since she'd managed to snag herself a date with an attorney at the law firm while she was a receptionist there. His name was Ajay Loner, a local playboy.




Chloe, of course, said that she could smell Erin's desperation a mile away. She'd been nice enough about it to Erin, sure, but in private, she had said to Lola, "Who's the whore, now?"




"Chloe can be so mean about things like that." Lola said. "I'm actually very happy for Erin." Erin had, in fact, been bemoaning her love life for quite some time, and Lola was pretty tired of it.




"I think that Ajay really likes her too. He seems like a nice guy."




"Not to question your judgement, Lola..." Pascal said. "But I'm failing to see how Erin's love life is relevant to this discussion..."

"It's just to show you that she's not exactly a Loki Beaker, Pascal." Lola grinned. "She's just an odd little woman, from a questionable family. Ajay Loner is a very well-respected attorney, so if he sees some good in her, then she can't be so bad."




"We're supposed to take that as some sort of character reference? We don't even know Ajay..." Pascal frowned. "I really don't think that Erin would agree to do something against Loki. Chloe said that they're really close."

"Well, not that close... Chloe also said that Loki never tells her anything about his research. She's never heard him ever mention Nervous Subject."

"Still. Blood is thicker than water, Lola. She's just not trustworthy for something like this."




"Well, then there's also Kristen." Lola sad. "I think that she'd be perfect for this. She'd be interested in helping that poor thing, for sure. She's very nice."

"Well, then maybe you should ask her what she thinks. It'll be very dangerous though, most likely."




"That's another reason that Kristen would make an excellent person for the job. She's an athlete, Pascal. She won't look overly threatening, not if we dress her up the right way, but she's very strong. She'd be a lot safer than most sims, if something were to go wrong."




"I still feel really apprehensive about sending anyone in there, Lola."

"I do as well, Paz. I think that we're right to be so cautious. The Beakers are very dangerous people. They're probably more dangerous than we even realize."




Pascal agreed. "I know that they're dangerous, Lola. I have no idea what they've been doing to Nervous Subject, but that young man has been to hell and back from what I can tell."

Pascal thought of Nervous, and his dark eyes, which blinked constantly, and were filled with a deep sadness. The way his arms shook as he had reached to pick up Mint, but then, somehow, he had stopped twitching with the baby in his arms. He thought about the smile on his face, which never lasted all that long.




Lola scanned her brother's face. She knew Pascal very well, and it wasn't hard for her to see that this Nervous Subject meant a lot to him. She knew that Pascal had taken this on as a mission, and once her brother set his mind to something, he wouldn't abandon it until he achieved his goal.

"We're going to help him, Paz." She reassured him. "Don't worry. If it's possible to get him out of there, we'll do it."

"Thank you, Lola. So you'll mention the plan to Kristen?"

"I'll speak to her right away. She's out back, doing her training, as we speak. When she comes inside, I'll speak to her." Pascal hugged his sister, and bid her goodbye. When Kristen came inside, flushed with adrenaline, Lola asked her to sit with her for a moment.




"So, you have something important to discuss, Lola?" Kristen asked. "This seems like a pretty formal sort of conversation. Have I been slacking off on my share of the dishes lately?"

"No, Kristen. You've been great around the house. If anything, I'd be talking to Chloe, if that were the problem."

"So, what then?"

"I have a very serious proposition for you." Lola began. "Pascal and I need your help, but it's going to be something to think over carefully before you agree to it." She continued to tell Kristen everything about Nervous Subject, the Beakers, her brother, their suspicions, and their plan.




"So that's what we've come up with, Kristen." Lola said, "What do you think?"

"It sounds okay to me."

"It will be very dangerous, though."

"Well, obviously," Kristen agreed, "but the Beakers don't even know who I am, do they? Surely a complete stranger can go up to door and ring the doorbell without fear for their life." Lola briefly considered whether that statement was true, but she agreed.

"That's what we're hoping. So, you'll give it a try?"




"Yeah, okay, Lola." She said. "Sure. Count me in."




Loki had been spending a lot of time in the highest tower of the Beaker mansion lately, just as Pascal had noted. This had begun following his discovery of the true nature of Nervous Subject's genetics.




Nervous was still confined to the pit, but the Beakers had decided to give him a mattress to sleep on, at least. He took a small comfort in this. He spent the duration of every day just sitting there, trying to remember not to reach up and brush his head. Every time he did that, it really upset him.




Loki had enjoyed cutting off Nervous Subject's hair as a cruelty, of course, but he also really did need it. Those hair samples were very usefully for studying the genetics of his subject.




He had spent countless hours in front of his equipment, running tests. It was really quite puzzling to him, and unlike anything he'd encountered before in his studies.




Then, one day, he figured it out.




"So that's your little secret, is it, Nervous?" Loki laughed to himself.




"So much power at your fingertips, so much potential, and just look at you! What a pathetic waste of flesh. If I possessed what you do, surely I could put it to a much better use."




Then an idea dawned on him, and a smile spread across his face like a grass fire.




"You know..." He thought. "I think I really could."




Ripp had been playing guitar all morning, ever since he'd received an unexpected care package from Buck. He'd been a little confused at first, since the box it had arrived in had been quite large, and the return address said B. Grunt. Of course, it wasn't from Buzz, but Ripp had done a double take. Buzz would have definitely written General before his name, though, and Ripp finally realized this. Did he really think that it would be from him? For a second, inexplicably, he had.

Ripp had missed playing guitar, and there was nothing quite like the feeling of playing your very own guitar. Once he'd finally managed to tear himself away from it, Ripp called Buck right away to thank him.




"You are the greatest person to ever live, Buck."

"So... do you like it?"

"Fucking right, I do! What's not to like?"




"I meant the colour..."




"Yeah, it's sweet, Buck. Really, really cool. I love it. Thank you so much!"

"Make sure you put it to good use, now." Ripp could think of more than one use for it, right away.




"I love you. I fucking love you, Buck. You know that, right?"




"Yes, Ripp. I know it." Buck smiled. Unlike the rest of their family, they reminded each other of this fact nearly every day.

"I love you too, Ripp."

Ripp thought that this much was obvious, since Buck had just bought him a guitar for no apparent reason at all. Buck was his new hero. Once he got off the phone with Buck, he went hunting for someone to share his good news with.




Ophelia's room was the closest to his, so he decided to drop over there first.

He knew that Ophelia spent a lot of time alone with her flowers, and he didn't want to creep up on her and scare her while she was so focussed on her work, so he opened the door very slowly. He was just about to open his mouth, when he was stopped in his tracks.




Tank was already in Ophelia's room.




And he was kissing her.




Ripp maintained his composure enough to silently shuffle back into the hallway, where he stood dumbfounded for a couple of minutes.




"Hey, Ripp! What's up? You look as pale as a ghost..." That would be Johnny. Ripp shook it off as well as he could.

"Johnny! Oh, hi!"

"Are you okay? You're looking really pale, Ripp."




"Hey now... just because I have a milky white complexion, doesn't mean that you can call me pasty, Johnny! You're not so fucking tanned there yourself."




"I didn't mean anything by it, Ripp! Don't be so testy..." Johnny would have been fairly testy too, if he had just seen what Ripp had seen.




"I'm not being anything."

"Okay." Johnny threw his hands up. "Whatever."

"Oh, shit!" Ripp suddenly remembered why he'd left his room in the first place. "You're never going to guess what Buck did..."




"Wow, that's awesome, Ripp."

"isn't it, though?" Ripp grinned. "Buck is the greatest."




Something about Ripp seemed to transform when he picked up that guitar. Johnny noticed it right away. Ripp seemed much more like himself, somehow.

Johnny was a little concerned about the noise level, since they were making plans to move out into a house off-campus. All three of them. Johnny had some serious reservations about living in the same house with Ripp, but Ophelia had insisted on it. The dorms were different. There was more room, and nobody had to cook meals, or clean up the dishes afterwards. Johnny feared, reasonably, that the person who would most often be doing that would be him.




As for Tank, he was just about ready to call the number on that poster that was advertising for a roommate. He was ready to get away from the dorms, and the rest of them, as soon as possible. Johnny and Ripp were stomping on his last nerve, and he felt too embarrassed to be around Ophelia for a while. He'd obviously misread the situation with her.




Ripp had walked in at the exact moment to catch them kissing, so he had taken the situation out of context.




Tank had been greatly enjoying Ophelia's company those last few weeks. They had many long conversations, and she really did seem interested in learning more about him. She had even encouraged him to dance with her on several occasions, despite his awkward dance moves.




He wouldn't exactly be smustling with her any time soon, though. God no. He would never have the nerve to do something so silly, though it always seemed like Ophelia had a great time doing it with other people.




Even just dancing at all was something that Tank would never have done, only weeks before. Ophelia had a way of bringing him out of his shell. He wanted to spend all of his time with her, though he obviously kept one eye watching for Ripp and Johnny. Ophelia seemed to like spending time with him too, when she wasn't busy with her course work and her flower arranging.

Tank often felt like just dropping into her room to see how things were going, but he felt that this would be too forward. What would he even say, just showing up unannounced like that? He was really curious about the flowers, and often imagined Ophelia's delicate hands carefully selecting them, and forming them into something beautiful. Then, after he had asked about the flowers some more, Ophelia had agreed to show them to him.




She seemed reluctant, even embarrassed, but she had shown him all of her creations, and her working area. Tank complimented her work, but she shied away from his praise. She did smile a little though, and he could tell that she really was proud of them. Afterwards, Tank felt moved to thank her for her recent kindness towards to him.

"Thank you for being so nice to me, Ophelia." Tank said. "It's been really nice to hang out with you and talk lately."

"It was nothing, Tank." She smiled. "You don't have to thank me. I like our talks too."




Then something just happened. Tank couldn't explain it. He had just been standing there, with no intentions at all, but then he had felt compelled to kiss her. He didn't even think about it. He didn't stop himself.




It was a nice kiss, Ophelia had thought, and nothing at all like kissing Johnny. Tank wasn't aggressive or insistent about it. The kiss had been like a question. His freshly shaven face felt rough against hers, but everything else about it had been quite soft.




Perhaps that was why she had let him do it. Why she hadn't stopped him.

Ultimately, though, the answer to Tank's question had been no.




"Tank, I..." She frowned. "I hope I haven't given you the wrong impression." His heart fell. He didn't need much experience to know what that meant.

"I like you, I really do, but only as a friend." Tank didn't really know what to say.

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be sorry. It's okay." She didn't meet his eyes. "I'm not angry or anything, Tank. Please don't think of me any differently. It's just... I am still dating Johnny, you know." Of course he knew that.




"I know, Ophelia. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." He wanted to ask her why, if she was still with Johnny, they didn't seem to spend all that much time together anymore, but he didn't. That was none of his business, and if Ophelia said that they were still together, then they were.

"Really, Tank. It's okay."




She had been really nice about it, but Tank was still really embarrassed. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to see her every day, remembering this painful conversation. And without Ophelia to talk to, what was he supposed to do? Sit alone in his room? His room was also right above Ripp's, and he had heard him torturing that poor guitar all morning. He knew that this, and the other ungodly noises that Ripp sometimes made down there, would likely continue to annoy him well into the foreseeable future. Yes, it was time for Tank to get out of that dorm.

Ripp hadn't wasted any time after the guitar had arrived. After he ate lunch, he made a trip to the student centre to find that poster about the band that was looking for a guitarist. That was going to be him, if he had any say at all in the matter. He called them up, and made his way over there as soon as he could. He was greeted before he even made it to the door.




"Oh, you're going to be just fucking perfect, I can tell!" Jasmine exclaimed. "Come on up to the roof with me."

Once there, they did their introductions.




"I'm Jasmine, but I go by Jaxy." She had a voice that sounded like it had smoked about ten thousand cigarettes in her lifetime.

"Doesn't that mean..." Ripp arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I know, and believe me... Plenty of chicks on this campus know it too." Jaxy was the most renowned lesbian on campus, afterall.




That is, she had been, until she fell in love with her fellow bandmate, Zoe. These days, she considered herself a one-woman girl.




"Well, then." Ripp said, smiling. He wondered if he and Jaxy knew any of the same girls.




"Yeah, I decided to go with that because it just sounds better. More like a rock star, you know? Zo's the only one of us who had a decent name as it was. Zoe Zimmerman. That's pretty fucking cool, right? Gunnar Rogue is obviously a stage name too." She laughed. "I don't even know Gunnar's real name. Something dumbass, like Gerald, I think. I really don't even fucking care." She turned her piercing gaze back to Ripp.

"So, what do you go by?"




"Ripp Grunt." Jaxy laughed hysterically, while Ripp just sighed. "You're fucking kidding me, right? No, really..."

"No, that's really my name." Ripp tried to contain his mounting irritation.

"Shit... sorry." She continued to laugh. "That's actually your given name?"

"Oh, it's real. My old man has a sick sense of humour. He's just an asshole like that."




"Well, you should thank him, because it's the best name for a guitarist that I've ever heard, assuming you can actually play. The only way it could be any fucking better is if your name was Riff." She smiled. "Why don't you go ahead and show us what you got..."




Ripp played while Jaxy and Zoe scrutinized his technique. He was, of course, used to having his performance evaluated by women, but never two at the same time, and never his musical abilities.




"So..." He said, after it was all over. "Do you like what you hear, or am I completely out of my fucking league here?"

He really hoped that he hadn't messed it up too badly, since he had been fairly distracted by the way Zoe was twisting her torso and tossing her hips around. Sweet mother, she was hot!




"Well, I'm totally impressed." Jaxy grinned. "You're awesome. It's a bit sloppy, but that's fine. You have the right skills, and the right energy. I'm not really going for anything polished with this operation, anyway."

"It doesn't hurt that you're hotter than hell, either." Added Zoe, giving Ripp an enticing glance. "I wouldn't throw you out of bed..."

"Yeah, that also works in our favour." Jaxy considered. "Not to my tastes, obviously, but if I were into that sort of thing, I'd probably wanna tap your ass, for sure. Or you could tap mine, or whatever the fuck it is that you crazy hets do." Ripp laughed.




"Either's fine by me." Ripp said, truthfully. Jaxy laughed. She could tell that she liked Ripp already.

"Good man." Zoe smiled. Ripp was glad to know that this impressed her. Jaxy continued.

"How attached are you to your look?"

"I wasn't aware that I really had one."

"Sure you do... but would you be willing to experiment?"

"Yeah, sure. I don't give a fuck." He then added. "I won't cut my hair, but other than that..."

"Sure. That's understandable. If I had your hair, I wouldn't cut it either." Jaxy grinned. "My hair is as coarse as fucking chicken wire."




And so, Ripp became the fourth member of the Shifting Paradymes. In the weeks that followed, he wondered how he'd ever managed to survive as a person that wasn't in a rock band. His band members were great fun, and they all seemed to be becoming the best of friends, especially him and Jaxy.




Jaxy was something else. She was the only other person that Ripp had ever met that swore as much as he did, and she was so bitingly abrasive about everything that he barely ever stopped laughing. Ripp loved it. If she had been even remotely interested in men, Ripp would have asked her to marry him instantly. Well, it's easy to say that when it's not even a remote possibility, but he definitely would have slept with her.




Ripp's life had finally reached the exact ideal that he had been dreaming about forever: Sex, drugs, and even a little bit of rock 'n' roll.




Buzz would probably die if he even knew the half of it.




Tank was also branching out and meeting new people, since he had finally decided to move out of the dorms. He had called the number on that poster, and spoke with a man named Frances, who was looking for a roommate to help with the rent.




Tank had agreed to drop by and see the place before he made a decision. The rent was reasonable, though, so it seemed like it would be a good opportunity for him.




Frances was none other than Frances J. Worthington III, the son and heir to the sizeable Worthington fortune. The Worthingtons were the richest family in Sim City, and they practically owned half of the city. Their wealth even rivaled that of the Landgraabs in nearby Bluewater Village.




Frances Worthington was a very refined and cultured fellow. He played the piano very well. He always smelled like a fine, expensive cologne, and every piece of clothing on his body had cost more than the entire wardrobe of most other sims.

He had decided to look for a roommate to help with the rent, since he had been expected to pay his own way through college as a sort of learning experience from his father. That, and he was also expecting to have to get used to it. He was in line to inherit the family fortune, but there were several imposing restrictions on him that he would have to obey before he took ownership of that money. Frances was very doubtful about his ability to adhere to them.

That wasn't the only reason he had put that poster up. The other reason he had sought a roommate was because he was lonely. It was hard to make friends when everyone saw you as the poor little rich boy, and his reputation keep most sims at an arms length.




When Tank arrived at the address, he had to double check to make sure that he'd written it down right. The place was a palace, not a house. It put the Grunt household, back in Strangetown, to shame. Tank wasn't sure what to think of this. The idea of living in such a lavish dwelling was exciting, but it also made him a little uneasy.

What sort of person could have this as their house while attending college? Tank had been raised to value a dollar, and though the Grunts were actually quite well off, you'd never know it from their sparse, utilitarian base house. The General believed that money belonged in the bank, not tied up in useless objects.

Still, Tank would find out about it firsthand. He knocked on the door.




Frances opened the door and gasped. "Hello? Are you Tank Grunt?"

"Yes, that's me." Tank said. "Worthington, right? I was talking to you earlier on the phone..."

"Yes, yes, I remember."

Frances Worthington III didn't really believe in a god, as such, but he was suddenly inclined to go praise his name on a mountaintop. He couldn't possibly have thought of a man that would make a better roommate, not in his very wildest of dreams.

"Well, where are my manners?" Frances sputtered. "Please, come inside, Tank."




Frances proceeded to give Tank a tour of the house. Tank was just blown away. It had seemed expensive from the outside, but inside, it was even more elaborate.

"Here's the kitchen." Frances said. "I hope that you're handier in it than I am."

"Well, I'm passable, I guess. Do you like mac and cheese?" Frances didn't want to admit that he had never eaten it before. At home, he had a personal chef.

"Yes, of course. It's lovely."

The tour continued into the dining and living areas.




Tank felt a little tinge of sadness and embarrassment when he noticed that Frances also had a flower arranging work bench.

"You... arrange flowers too?"

"Yes, it's something to do to pass the time."

"Ophelia — my friend, Ophelia, does that too." Tank glanced at the lovely flowers. "She's really good at it."

"There is certainly an art to it." Frances admitted. "You can't just toss the flowers in there just any which way. It requires a lot of careful thought." Tank thought of careful, thoughtful Ophelia, alone in her room.

"Well, let's continue the tour upstairs, shall we?" Frances said.




Frances Worthington's bedroom was almost as large as the rest of the house combined.




"You do realize that you only have one bedroom, right?" Tank asked. "And one bed?"

"Yes, you do have a point." Mused Frances. "I guess that I somehow managed to overlook that. I can get another bed to put in here, though, if you don't mind sharing a room."

"Listen. Sharing a bedroom with one other person is nothing to me." Tank was well used to that sort of thing in the military.

"Well, perfect." Frances smiled. "I'll have that picked up right away, and I'll make sure that it's a good one too." Tank was a little shocked that Frances intended to just run out and buy him a new bed. This was certainly going to take some getting used to.




Tank couldn't really figure Frances out. He was surely a very different sort than he was used to. He reminded him just a little bit of Buck, but not really. They certainly seemed to have similar interests, anyway, and they put themselves together in a similar manner. At least Frances wasn't a slob, like Ripp.

Tank was beginning to get the impression that Frances really didn't need a roommate for the sake of the rent, as such, since the rent that he had asked Tank to pay would only cover a fraction of what that place had to cost. Frances seemed lonely, and that was definitely something that Tank could understand.




After the tour, they sat and talked for a while. The topics were limited to the basics, at first, like what they were doing in school. Frances was studying Economics, which he freely admitted to being extremely uninterested in. Tank wondered why he would have decided to do it if he didn't want to, but then he thought about his father. It's not that Tank didn't want to do what he was doing, but even if he didn't, would he have the nerve to stand up to Buzz?

Eventually, the conversation became a little more personal. "So, where are you from, Tank? Who's your family?" Frances asked.




"My father is General Buzz Grunt, stationed in Strangetown. I have two younger brothers. My mother, ummm, hasn't been around for a while..." He trailed off. Frances took this to mean that perhaps she was dead. He wasn't sure what to say, so he frowned until Tank continued.

"So, do you have any brothers, Frances?"

"Ummm, no... but I do have three older sisters." He seemed somewhat embarrassed by this fact.

Tank chuckled a little. "I assume your father was holding out for a son."

"Yes, it's hardly a secret. He expects me to inherit the family fortune and carry on the family name." Frances sighed, and stared off into the distance, at the idea of the imposing expectations of his father.

"Well, I know a thing or two about living up to a father's expectations," Tank said, with a smile, "so we have that in common, it seems." Frances smiled. He really did hope so.




"I hope you don't mind living with a neatnik. I'm pretty fussy."

Again, Tank chuckled. "Well, that's a relief." As if he wanted to live with Ripp all over again. "I'm used to a pretty rigid schedule, and I always pick up after myself. It's the military training."

"Ah, yes. The military. Well, things should work out well, then." Frances smiled with the sincerest of grins.




"Yes, Worthington, this looks like the start of a beautiful friendship..."









(Continue to Chapter 11...)

---

A/N: Just so you know, I have a very specific band in mind when I'm writing the Shifting Paradymes (though feel free to insert your own favourite in there, as long as it's a dirty rock band). I imagine that they sound pretty much exactly like Royal Trux, one of the very coolest of cool bands to ever have existed. Jaxy's character is really based off this, anyway, and I imagine that her "singing" is about that rough and awesome.

Here's a small video clip from You Tube to illustrate what I mean. As someone said in the comments on that page, I think they invented something called "being cool". Indeed.

Comments

[strange-tomato.livejournal.com]

*grin* I seem to be getting a lot of support for that idea. Why would have guessed? I really think that this outcome is much more likely, at least at this point in the "game"... but it's hardly over, is it? We'll see what happens. I can think of a number (hmmm, is the number two?) of good reasons that Ophelia/Tank might not be a good idea, but you never know. *wink*

Frances is a nice enough guy, or he's trying anyway, these days (after realizing that money really can't buy happiness). Maybe his loneliness and Tank's loneliness will cancel each other out.