Despite having fallen asleep on a couch that didn’t have nearly enough padding to be a bed - Blueblood wasn’t bothered by it. Strange as it seemed, by the time he was regaining his senses, he never felt more recharged in his life. Even when the sun was peeking through the windows, he didn’t feel tired or all that groggy. The best way he could describe all of this was simply… tranquil. Secure in the stillness of the morning.
And he also felt… warm. Not the uncomfortable heat that smothers, but it was embracing, welcoming like a hot drink for breakfast. It didn’t take Blueblood long to find the source of this comforting warmth. There was a pair of hooves that rapped him that wasn’t his, and it belonged to a stallion that was latched onto him like how one would a fluffy pillow.
Blueblood blushed at how this scene would look to anyone that might just walk in. He imagined that if someone with a camera were to take a picture with him being the little spoon in this cuddling, the tabloids would go insane with speculations and gossip over just such an image. And not without good reason either - he had spent the night for the first time with a stallion. Yes, they may not have had sex, but being in such a position on the couch with a stallion clinging to your back is well… suggestive at best.
On the other hoof, though Blueblood may not want to admit it to himself - but he liked it. Never had he been in the hooves of someone that he looked up to in such a closely intimate way. Of course, this wasn’t dignified by any stretch of the imagination but at the same time, being this relaxed, this casual was a breath of fresh air to how those expected him to relax by. It was - dare he say it - common, and he knew it. Yet, waking up in the arms of a stallion that had been doing nothing but showing affection, it wouldn’t matter if all of Canterlot were laughing their heads off - he liked it.
Teleporting himself out from Langue’s embrace, Blueblood was free to wander about the bedroom. Taking in the details of his beloved. On the phonograph, he noticed that it was still spinning with the needle weaving around in the middle of a record. The prince switched the machine off to see what was on it - Dreaming Debussy, with a list of pieces that he knew were the composer's softer works from Clair de Lune to Rêverie. He jotted down a mental note of that. Over by the bookshelf, where he looked over Langue’s library, all the books he saw were in Prench, yet the one title he did recognize made him reared back from the implications: Mémoires de Jacques Casanova. He wondered if Langue had taken notes from that book. Then he began to take further notice of the works of art on the walls. Many of which portray couples in tender moments painted in an ethereal light and tone.
However, it was the works of art that bothered Blueblood the most about this room - not because of the paintings themselves, but from what Langue had discussed from last night. He saw these works of art not as something that this stallion liked - but more of what was missing in Langue. He saw tender embraces, of comfort in difficult times, playfulness, and a deep curiosity for the other. Something that Langue was making the effort to give, but rarely been given back.
Connecting both the art and the conversation from last night, Blueblood realized something, ‘Could it be… he’s afraid of being abandoned? Is that why he was trying so hard to impress me? But at what cost is it on him to go out of the way for me.’ He frowned, ‘But he shouldn’t sacrifice for his affections to me. No, he should be loved just as intensely as he has to me. And I will make it so! Not after all he has been through.’
So resolved in this, Blueblood pulled on the servant’s bell to ring up a servant who he tells them to prepare breakfast to be brought up to the bedroom. Next, he went over to Langue’s record collection to pick out something to wake him with. He ended up choosing one with the name of Jean-Baptist Lully, set the record on the turntable, and upon activating it, gradually turned up the volume.
Langue was being stirred awake by the sound of singing violins. Golden in tone as the sunlight streamed down his face. The sound was slowly getting louder and louder until it forced him to open his eyes. “Quel? (What?)” He muttered, rubbing his eyes. Sitting up on the couch, he tried to remember why he wasn’t in his bed. Then after blinking a few times to see the prince there - he remembered.
“Prince Blueblood?” Langue sat up, “What time is it?”
“Almost six-forty-five.” Blueblood smiled, “I hope I didn’t wake you too early.”
“Not exactly but…” His ears perked up from the music playing, “Is that Lully?”
“I figured I put on something that was once used to waken the Sun King of Prance to wake someone just a vibrant.”
“What are you… Oh… C'est exact, Louis XIV. (That’s right, Louis XIV) Well I’m surprised you knew that reference.”
“What reference? Lully was the court composer for Louis XIV, and had a ceremony to wake him up every morning by playing this.”
“Regardless, I appreciate the gesture.” Getting off the couch, he asked, “So… Would the palace be concerned that you didn’t return last night and instead you slept with…” Langue blushed at what he was saying, “Well, you know what I mean.”
“Perhaps they would. But since I’m no Princess Celestia or Luna, I rather doubt it.”
“Oh… Well,” he coughed into his hoof, “should you start heading over there before we start worki-”
“I’m canceling that.”
This caught Langue off guard, “Pardon?”
“I said, we’re not working today. Because I want to take the day off.”
Langue checked his ears to make sure nothing was clogged, “Moi Prince, are you feeling alright?”
“Never better. And you know what? I’m looking forward to it.”
“Well… I…” Langue was at loss for words, “But taking a day off doing what? And more importantly, why?”
“Simple, because the fact of the matter is - I’ve been too selfish. After all the things you told me last night, I realized that you deserve so much better. And you know what? I’m going to give just that. I want to spend the whole day making you happy.”
Langue blinked again, “Are you sure you’re feeling alright? That you’re not coming down with something.”
“Well what’s wrong with calling off a day’s work - I’m sure it can wait. But for now, you got the whole day ahead so,” he sat himself down next to him, “what do you want to do?”
“.... You are being serious about this.”
“Just name it, a movie marathon, a classical concert, take a day trip out of Canterlot, just name it and we’ll do it.”
In truth, Langue didn’t know what to think. This was just so unexpected, so out of the blue that… he wasn’t sure what to respond with. After all, it wasn’t every day that a prince would just suddenly suggest playing hooky on a silver plate.
Mercifully, the servant had knocked on the door saying that they brought breakfast. “Well…” Langue stepped around Blueblood, “First we’ll take the time to have breakfast, and then we’ll figure out what we should do for the rest of the day. Does that sound reasonable?”
Blueblood agreed it was.
Langue, who went to answer the door to let the servant in, didn’t show the prince his dreadful expression. ‘This is going to be a lot harder than I thought.’
Canterlot was one of those places where despite looking like they have very few things to offer on the outside of its shiny, polished facade; if one were to go a little deeper, they might find a few surprises. A city where despite the high architecture that displays the height of culture and order, there were plenty of areas that would be deemed unexpected if one were to turn down at the right place. Unless one knew where they were going, they wouldn’t expect to find things from a kitten cafe, to an underground art gallery, or even a skating rink that was next door to the magnificent public library.
Even Blueblood, who despite living in Canterlot for most of his life doesn’t fully know where all these little alleyways and roads go. But he knew enough - however, he knew a few out-of-the-way places that not even a good chunk of the elite knew about. For example, they don’t know that near the iconic waterfall, there is a public restroom where there’s always that one stall at the end that is “closed for repairs.” Yet, if one were to push open the door, they wouldn’t find a toilet there, but a staircase that leads downward. Following the stony stairs to the bottom, they would find the entrance of one of Canterlot’s best-kept secrets - the entrance to a natural hot spring underneath the waterfall.
Langue had no idea that such a place existed, and according to Blueblood, neither does anyone else. Yet he said that during the winter months, he would go here for a swim in the waters that say had healing properties due to the natural minerals that would stir and flow over. Nevertheless, because of how out of the way it was from public view, the prince had claimed this area for his own.
The area itself was a large cave with an enormous, gaping hole that faced the waterfall. It was the only source of light, yet it never made the inside too dark to see. For the most part, the cave looked as if it was developed naturally from the running water from above, making stalagmites that would drip down into the spring. All looked as if it were natural except for the staircase, and the wood paneling that connected the stairs to the springs. There were a few benches, a coat rack to hang clothes from, and even a few rolls of towels. The air was humid and warm from the pools of steamy spring water that poured gently over to the next pool. Langue saw three circles were elevated from the next spring with the largest facing the falls. Up close, the water was pure and clear. And to the touch, it was quite warm but not boiling.
Blueblood offered to have him go in first - with removing his clothing of course. To the prince’s credit, he did turn around and didn’t sneak a peek while Langue undressed. Once he did so and put his clothes away, he went over to the smallest pool where most of the steam was coming out. He allowed himself to slip a hoof in to get used to the water that took him for a minute or two to get used to. Letting the heat envelop his hoof, then his legs before lowering the rest in as water just overflows into the other two pools.
“It’s your turn now,” Langue said as he gave Blueblood the same courtesy by having his back turned while the prince got undressed. For the moment, he closed his eyes as he relaxed in the spring. While he waited for Blueblood, he thought about how he could break the news to him. Somehow, he had to come up with a way where he would tell Blueblood that he shouldn’t look to him for anything romantic; and at the same time, make it so that he wouldn’t be overly too upset about it. In a way, it’s why he asked the prince to go to a place like this so that when they’re both calm and relaxed, he would break it to him as gently as possible and hopefully work something out.
He heard the water overflow into the other pool, no doubt that Blueblood was lowering himself into the hot spring. Langue cracked open an eye to see he had plunged himself into the hot water, his face scrunched up for a minute.
“Ah… hot…” Blueblood breathed in deeply, trying to relax at the sudden heat to his coat.
“Are you alright?” Langue asked.
“Yes just… give me a minute…” Blueblood’s eyes were shut tightly as he lowered more of himself up to the base of his neck. Yet, once he reached that point, he lifted himself a little bit out, sighing in relief. “Oh, I hate that part… But at least it’s not so bad now.”
Langue nodded, “It’s always the first minute that’s most uncomfortable. But once you’ve managed to dip the rest of yourself in, then everything else goes splendidly.”
“I know.” Blueblood moved over and plotted down next to Langue - very close to him by a few inches. “Yet, being a natural hot spring, the water should be good for your coat. In the old days, they say that such water had healing powers from the minerals in the rocks around us.”
“Is that so…” Langue looked away towards the waterfall that obscured the landscape of Equestria in front of them. For a while, the two of them fell quiet. As awkward as it was for Langue, he saw this as the opportunity to perhaps say something. “Blueblood…?”
“Hm…?”
“I uh…” He hesitated for a minute, trying to compose the right words to say to him. “What uh… what is it about me that you like?”
Blueblood got a little bit closer. “You mean besides your dashing good looks?”
“Well, I know that,” Langue laughed, “but… really, what about me do you see that you would go all this way for?”
Blueblood saw this as an opportunity as well. “If I may, I would like to show you.”
Langue raised an eyebrow, “If you’re going to try and molest me, I will get up and leave.”
“Oh no-no!” The prince raised his hooves defensively. “I swear, I’m not going to do that at all!”
Letting out a huff, Langue said, “Alright. You got me curious. What about me that you like?”
“May I?” Blueblood raised a hoof and Langue nodded. He reached over to touch his shoulder and pulled him so that they were facing each other. “For starters,” he said, using his dripping hooves to cup his face, “I like the way you hold my face like this when I feel undeserved but doing this tells me that it will be alright.” Then with one hoof, he let it rub it down the back of his shoulder blade, and with the other, to stroke his mane. “I also like the way that when you hold me like that, I can be undefensive around you. Where I do not need to put on an act of the strong stallion and just be weak without fear of you laughing at me.”
Then turning him around so that Langue’s back was against his withers, Blueblood held him while saying, “I also like it that you would whisper sweet nothings that often mean much more than nothing. Even when you talk to me in Prench where I have no idea what you’re saying, your tender tones and purring syllables are enough to warm my heart to melting point.”
Yet, in the water, he felt Langue shaking. Looking down he asked, “Are you okay.”
“S-Stop! Stop!” Langue broke away and turned to face Blueblood, his face was flustering red like his mane and had a hoof over his heart. “Oh dieux, je suis tellement désolé! (Oh gods, I’m so sorry!)” He breathed in a shaken breath.
Blueblood’s ears fell flat against his head. “I’m sorry, did I go too far?”
“I… I don’t know.” Langue sunk into the steamy water where his head was still on the surface. “It’s just… It’s so odd getting all of this. Usually, my role is to do all this, not you.” He covered his head, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
In the stillness, Blueblood moved close to Langue to hold him tightly. “Don’t say that, because I just wanted to give you as much love as you’ve shown me. I think you deserve that.”
“Maybe but… I… Moi Prince, I don’t feel I deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”
“Oh Langue,” he said stroking his mane. “I love thee with a love that shall not die, till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.”
Langue looked up at him, “Did… Did you just quote Shakespur to me just now?”
“And why not? I thought it was the right thing to say. I may not know everything about you, but from what you displayed to me just now - spoke volumes.”
“How?”
“You give love so freely and yet, you see it as something that needs to be bought, something to be earned. I have the feeling that you fear displeasing me because if I’m disappointed in you, even in the slightest, you would be shown no mercy. Am I right?”
“Your Grace, I-”
“Am I right?”
Langue hesitated before nodding.
Blueblood leaned forward to kiss his forehead. “If there is anything I’ve learned from my aunty Celestia, it applies to me as it should to you. The quality of mercy is not strained; it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed - it blesseth him that gives, and him that takes.”
This got a chuckle out of Langue, “Another Shakespur quote?”
“Point being, I don’t know where you have to believe that your only role is to give love. But for once, why not from time to time be in a role where you’re allowed to receive it for nothing more than because I think you should be loved.”
Another shaky sigh, “It just feels so strange.”
“But you’ll know that with every touch, or hug, or maybe a kiss on the cheek - you’ll know that it’s genuine. I don’t personally know that many stallions that would want to be anywhere this intimate with me. So in heart of hearts, I hope that this would grow into something more than this. But as you said, I have a long way to go.”
Just when Blueblood was about to release him from his hug, he felt Langue’s hooves reach over around his back. “Wait, not yet…” Langue said, “may I have this moment, s'il te plaît?”
The prince nuzzled him, “Take as long as you like.”
“Merci.” As much for Langue that breaking up with Blueblood gently didn’t go according to plan, this moment was an odd one for something he didn’t address. It was downright confusing. Here he nearly broke from receiving so much affection and the stallion wasn’t judging him for it. Instead, like how an ideal mother or father would, he held him and told him that it was going to be okay. He almost expected to comfort Blueblood - not the other way around! And yet, to be on the receiving end of such tenderness, such unconditional mercy… He couldn’t be. There was no way.
He would have to break up with him soon before it boils over. Yet… maybe not today at least. He would try again some other time.
It wasn’t that Langue didn’t try to bring up the subject to break up - he tried. But given the circumstances that day at the secret hot spring, he never thought it wise to bring it up then. So he thought he would try tomorrow. But that opportunity never came so he tried the next day… and the next day… And even the day after that. Of course, he knew that one of these days he would have to tell Blueblood that they should break this off. Once or twice he thought of maybe telling him that he was seeing someone else, or perhaps saying that a relative in Prance has fallen seriously ill so he can just flee the country and never see him again.
Yet, as much as he wanted to, and just when he could have that right moment to somehow break the prince’s heart - Blueblood would unexpectedly smother him in lovely gestures from a hug to even bringing in a pianist to play out something heartbreakingly beautiful while they worked. What made all of this so difficult was that half the time, Langue was at a loss of what to do. It was one thing to try to court a sixty-year-old dutchess that loves him for his body and the pile of presents with hours of whispering sweet nothings into her ear - it was another when he was on the other side of that.
And it didn’t help that as soon as they were finished with their work, Blueblood would ask if they could relax together at Langue’s home. Not just over dinner either, but to snuggle up to watch a movie, listen to his records, or exchange compliments back and forth until they fell asleep. For Langue, the worst part wasn’t that he was allowing for any of this to happen in the first place, nor was it that he was unable to put his hoof down when he knew he should - but the simple fact was… he liked it.
“I often forget how beautiful my Auntie Luna’s creations are,” Blueblood commented.
The situation that Langue was in was a prime example of that. By the prince’s suggestion since the room of Langue’s mansion wasn’t steep, he thought it would be wonderful to climb up there to stargaze at the night sky. Of course, there was a sense of danger as they tried to get onto the room with nothing but a blanket and the open air. Yet, once they were on there, they had a view of the great canopy of the night that had millions of stars twinkling and the crescent moon lingering overhead.
“Would you believe I hadn’t done anything like this since I was a colt?” Lounge asked. He was shoulder to shoulder with the prince as they sat down, looking up to the sky.
“I never knew you did,” Blueblood commented. “Did you do it very often?”
“Well as much as I could. But my mother would catch me from time to time and would have a massive heart attack that I was on the roof at all. Even when I was young, I knew that it was dangerous but it was the best way to see the stars when you’re so high up.”
He felt Blueblood wrap a hoof around his shoulder. “You know, I wish I could have done something like that growing up.”
“How so?”
“Well… I’m not sure if I had told you about my parents, have I?”
Langue hummed, “I think you did briefly some time ago. I think it was about how controlling they were.”
“Yes, but even as a foal, I wanted to do something naughty like this. I can’t tell you how often I would daydream of doing this like drawing on the walls, being engaged in a swordfight with the tutors, ripping up the garden to find buried treasure… I could go on, but it was something I wanted to do. Because there was a sense of glee when you broke rules when your parents specifically told you not to.”
“Let me guess, your parents were strict?”
He nodded, “They made it clear that they want their world to be well ordered and they couldn’t cope with any more difficulties than they already had. At times I’m convinced they were never ready to have foals because they wanted me to grow up pretty fast. They wanted me to become the full-grown prince as soon as possible. And if I fell out of line with that…” Blueblood held up his hooves to hold them out straight. “.... They would order my hooves to be held out like so while they got out a ruler to whack my hooves with.”
Langue winced, “I’ve heard of that punishment. It’s where if you retract your hooves for any reason, they would do the whole thing over again but harder that time.”
Blueblood lowered his hooves, “When that happens, I would briefly daydream of grabbing that ruler and just canning them instead to see how they would like it.”
“Don’t tell me you were abused.”
“.... I wouldn’t go that far. Nevertheless, it is something I thought about but never acted upon. And it’s not that I hate being nice but… to break those sort of rules both spoken and unspoken is something I had found so much joy in. Things like coming out, leaving a party unexpectedly, not coming back to the palace, playing hooky around work, or just doing this… call me selfish, but I never felt more alive in doing all of this. Especially when I’m around you to do it with.”
Langue nuzzled underneath the prince’s maw. “Oh-ho! So that is why you like me so because you see me as freedom incarnate.”
“How can I not?” Blueblood planted a kiss on his forehead. “You are a joy to be around. You’re the kind of pony that I can be envious about.”
“Envious? Moi?” Langue dramatically put a hoof to his withers. “But you’re a prince, what can you be envious of?”
“Well, you’re near carefree nature for one. I would love to be as fearless as you one day. Where you could speak your mind and be with whoever without fear of repercussions of it.”
“Tu n'as aucune idée… (You have no idea…)” Langue laughed nervously.
“What was that?”
“What I mean is… I’m not quite there myself. You know, still getting used to all of this and…”
“Oh, I see.” Blueblood lay on his back, gazing up at the twinkling lights. “Still, you have shown me how there is grandeur in the simplest of things.”
Langue lay next to him. “We Prench love life - that is the simple answer. We love it so much that we enjoy the moments and other small things that make one appreciate being alive. Like having a cup of soup at your favorite cafe. Take a moment to listen to a haunting melody from a singer on the street corner. Smelling the flower from a scrumptious garden. Watching the stars in their infinity while laying on the grass. Or even a kiss. That is what it means to be Prench - to pay attention to one’s senses when life is in full bloom.”
Blueblood had a half-smile, “Incredible, you even turned a simple statement of fact into poetry.”
“Hmm… I don’t know. I’m nowhere near on par with Shakespur with my Equestrian.”
This got a laugh out of the prince and amused him enough to plant a kiss on Langue’s cheek. “Maybe not, but with how you quote the bard - I think you could sing these words on stage.”
“What? Me singing Shakespur? Ah, quel scandale! (Ah, what a scandal!) Even if I did sing, I’d have my whole audience get up to leave with blood dripping from their ears!”
Blueblood stroked his mane, “Oh don’t be so hard on yourself. You are able to say it beautifully.”
“Not like you, Your Majesty.”
“How so?”
“Well… Do you know any of the bard’s sonnets?”
Blueblood shrugged, “I know a few. My tutors made me memorize them by heart.”
“Recite one.”
“Why?”
“To prove a point.”
Blueblood chuckled, “Oh very well. Let me see if I can recall one…” For a long moment, the prince was silent, trying to remember one of the sonnets. With a smirk, he said, “By the way, did you know that Shakespur wrote all of his sonnets addressing a stallion.”
“Why do you think I asked you to recite one to me?” Langue smiled.
“You’re right. But I do remember one.” The prince cleared his throat and recited: “A female’s face with nature’s own hoof painted / Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion; / A female’s gentle heart, but not acquainted / With shifting change as is false female’s fashion; / An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, / Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; / A stall’ in hue, all hues in his controlling, / Which steals stallion’s eyes and mare’s souls amazeth.” Blueblood cupped his beloved’s cheek and looked at him in the eye saying: “And for a mere mare wert thou first created, / Till nature as she wrought thee fell a-doting, / And by addition me of thee defeated / By adding one thing to my purpose nothing. / But since she pricked thee out for mere mare’s pleasure, / Mine be thy love and thy love’s use their treasure.”
Now it was Langue’s turn to kiss him on the cheek, “You see! Flawless. You could bet a round of applause just for doing that.”
“Be careful,” Blueblood chuckled, “keep flattering me any further and I may recite something from Ronaio and Filliet.”
“You’re making it sound like a punishment.” Langue laughed.
“I’m warning you!”
Langue smirked, “Oh? You, are warning me? I’m afraid you have no idea who you’re dealing with. Why I used to perform as Ronaio on stage in Paris - both in Prench and the original Equestrian too.”
“Wait, you were an actor?” Blueblood sat up. “I didn’t know that… did I know that? I thought you were an aristocrat.”
“W-Well uh…” Langue thumbed, realizing his mistake, quickly adding, “I don’t bring it often because I was young and I wasn’t sure what my special talent was at the time. Still, I never forgot my lines for it.”
“Oh yeah?” Blueblood smirked. “Prove it.”
Langue sat up and took the prince’s hoof. “If I profane with my unworthiest hoof this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this, - my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stood to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” He leads forward to try to kiss his hoof.
But Blueblood pulled away and recited: “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hoof too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hooves that pilgrims’ hooves do touch, / And sole to sole is holy souls’ kiss.”
Langue laughed, “Have not saints lips, and holy souls too?”
“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”
“O then, dear saint, let lips do what hooves do - they pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”
Blueblood tilted his head, “Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.”
Cupping Blueblood’s cheek and making him look deep into his eyes, Langue finished, “Then move not while my prayer’s effect… I take.” Leaning forward, he kissed him on the tip of his nose.
Looking away, Blueblood felt his face flushed, “That was perfect. Flawless in fact.”
“I’m more surprised that you knew all the lines for Filliet.”
“You could blame my tutors for having to read the play.” Blueblood looked over towards Canterlot Castle that loomed over the capital. He sighed, “I have a feeling that I should start returning to the castle now. My aunties would probably start getting worried about me as I didn’t expect to stay out this long. Yet, before I go, I do want to give you something.”
“What? A Moneigh?” Langue chuckled.
“Hmm…”
“What! I was only kidding!”
“No no, but something else that I think you’ve deserved to receive.” Straightening out a foreleg he tapped Langue’s shoulders. “By the power invested in me, a Prince of Equestria, I hereby dub thee, Baron Langue of Canterlot. Long may he reign.”
Langue blinked, “Did you just give me a new title?”
“And an upgrade,” Blueblood smiled warmly. “It’s a step up from a Lord if you ask me.”
“I… merci.” Langue bowed as best as he could on a slanted surface.
“For now, get some sleep, my Baron,” Blueblood told him, taking hold of his face to kiss both of his cheeks. “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow afternoon.”
“Yes… of course.” Langue nodded. “See you tomorrow. Au revoir.”
The prince chuckled. “Yes, au revoir.”
Once they got down from the roof and Blueblood kissed on his cheek to say good night, Langue went to bed feeling that all of this was getting out of control. Normally he would be the one to pull all the strings and yet here, somehow without feeling he was being manipulated - Blueblood had got him to be jerked around like a puppet. And the worst part is that he can tell that the prince was genuine with his feelings that as far as he can tell - unless he does something - it’s only going to continue to grow. While he told himself that he can get off at any time - he wondered how long and how far he was willing to go before it all flew off the rails.