Scootaloo twiddled with her pencil nervously against her wooden desk as she watched the minutes on the clock of the schoolhouse tick by. The teenage mare wasn't normally this anxious, but the prospect of meeting Rainbow Dash after school that day sobered her up, even during one of her most hated classes: Geography. Usually a cool and calculative athlete, she couldn't help but tap her hind hooves repeatedly in excitement to the ticking of the clock, like a drummer subdividing notes.
Around her, teenage pegasi were at their desks, going about their own business; the diligent ones were copying down notes, pen in mouth, while a sizeable few were dozing off in class. Scootaloo could see why. Besides the light, comforting drizzle that was blanketing the cloud building in a sleep-inducing mood, their geography teacher, an orange maned and light teal coated pegasus known as Ms. Dust by students, was likely the most boring and uncommitted teacher in the entire staff of Flight School For the Youth, or Flight Youth.
If it had been any other teacher, Scootaloo couldn't blame her; largely a sports school, Flight Youth's students were uninterested in the academics courses that were offered, usually prerequisites for some high-end sports they wanted to pursue. Ms. Dust, however, took 'lackadaisical' to a whole new level.
"Ooo..." yawned the fairly young teacher as she droned on, sounding almost deliberately boring as she did so. "So which one of you rascals can tell me how wind is formed?"
"Are you catching this?" asked Scootaloo's neighbour, his voice light and high, like mellow cirrus clouds. She had totally forgotten her surroundings, having zeroed in her gaze on the clock like Rainbow Dash would sometimes zero in on clouds. Scootaloo's focus broke away from the clock, which read a quarter to the ending of class, and turned to a grey colt with a slicked back black mane. Rumble. She smiled to him, and his sky-blue irised eyes and nearly always radiant countenance responded in kind. Genuine smiles were a rare commodity in Flight Youth for Scootaloo, but she could always count on Rumble to give her some during the gruelling days here.
"Absolutely not," said Scootaloo, earning a light chuckle from Rumble. Outside, a particularly chilly gale found its way into the room through open cloud-framed windows, and seemed to echo the glare on Ms. Dust's face.
"Scootaloo!" hissed Ms. Dust sharply. "Shut your trap or get sent to the principal's!"
Scootaloo rolled her eyes, continuing to twirl her pen. That line was starting to become overused; at least once every Geography lesson, she'd be told off by Ms. Dust, who admonished her in the same fashion all of the time. It seemed that everyone but Scootaloo was allowed to talk freely in Ms. Dust's presence. The source of this prejudice against Scootaloo was fairly easy to find out.
"The apprentice of the great Rainbow Dash," said Ms. Dust with no small amount of resentment (and sarcasm), in front of the entire class. Not that the class was paying any more or less attention. Here we go again. "Don't get the impression that she's such a big shot, little filly. See, she didn't get the best grades when she was in school. It is my great, grave worry that you are following her academic path as well."
Right. Scootaloo was average in class, sometimes getting higher than average in tests; Pegasi born and bred in Cloudsdale somehow weren't hard to beat academically. Most, but maybe not Rumble. And the accent that Dust gave on the word 'grave' nearly made her laugh.
Whenever Ms. Dust spoke to Scootaloo, her words always came out as a slew of lies. Scootaloo's daily dose of Ms. Dust's vitriol was getting tiring, to be honest; especially on chilly, rainy days, they only offered a larger headache. Same routine, different day. Scootaloo darted her eyes towards Rumble and saw that he was slouched on his seat, front hooves crossed into a cushion as he pretended to doze off, his slicked black mane facing Scootaloo. She knew he was trying to get the message across that Dust's words don't mean anything, that this was just another day, another rant of hers. But Scootaloo couldn't stop listening.
"Rainbow Dash this, Rainbow Dash that!" cried Ms. Dust, forgetting the lesson completely. Her tone was rising, enough to wake up some of the sleepy ponies. However, it was not enough to intensify the calm rain outside, which drummed at the roof of the cloud building at its own comfortable pace. Scootaloo continued twirling her pen, her expression not showing anything. Dust wasn't satisfied, apparently, and trotted over menacingly slowly.
"You know, some ponies would kill to be with Rainbow Dash. The only living pegasus to be able to do the Sonic Rainboom, to be wasting her time on an orphan like you," said Ms. Dust. "Not surprisingly, really. From personal experience, she's dull as monochrome! What an irony..."
That's a new card. Scootaloo didn't like the label 'orphan'. Not that she was trying to make the best out of a bad situation, just that having a sister like Rainbow Dash was much better than being in the company of any boring parent who forced, forced and forced. Rainbow Dash wasn't dimwitted either. Scootaloo couldn't accept the ludicrous pile of hay that Dust was spitting out. But she had to be silent. She knew, though, that silence meant consent in Dust's dictionary. Dust smiled a little, sensing that at that moment, she was very close to getting at Scootaloo's nerves. Scootaloo kept darting her eyes to Rumble; his head was turned towards Scootaloo, staring at her sleepily through his blue-rimmed pupils. They were begging her to remain where she sat, that knowing gaze trying to make her think twice about an impulsive reaction. Scootaloo spun her pen around, her hoof making swift circles with the tip against the cloud table, trying to drown out both the noise of Dust's chatter and the inner rebel making her way to the surface.
"Speaking of ironies," said Ms. Dust, as her mouth began to form a sickly grin. "Rainbow Dash is, always has been and will always be a failure. Evidence is right here, sitting in front of me, twiddling a pen like a mental nut job. The product of the greatest flyer in Equestria, a ground-bound, useless, flightle--"
"Fuck," spat Scootaloo a lot louder than planned, as she unhooked her saddlebag from the back of her chair and headed for the door, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she moved with alacrity. Everyone in class was sitting up straight, ears perked up and all eyes on the incensed filly as she turned the knob of the exit door. Sorry, Rumble.
"Sit back down, you littl--" started Ms. Dust.
"NO! You listen to me, you bitch," said Scootaloo, tears beginning to form in her eyes. She hated crying, and that moment was all the more loathsome, so she willed her eyes to be dry. Thunder rumbled low through the clouds outside, and the drumming on the cloud roof intensified. Scootaloo was never good with words (or emotion-management for that meter), but she had to dish something out against Dust; she couldn't just leave in tears. Rainbow Dash would've said it was for the sake of winning, that it was imperative that she made a comeback. Plus, Ms. Dust had been asking for it for the past few months.
"You're here, a pegasus teaching Geography at a bucking flight school when you were trying for the Wonderbolts once. Yeah, Rainbow told me about you. She told me to never suffer quietly, so yeah, all of your insults and bullshit, I told her, so she told me about your sorry ass. You cheated so that got you into one of the lowest rungs of Cloudsdale society, to teach academics at a bucking flight school. It's no wonder you act so black all of the time. Yeah, I can only hover, so what? At least I'm trying. Cheaters go down in the dust, one way or another," said Scootaloo, then stopping to gasp for breath after all was said within a single one. None in the classroom said a word; Lightning Dust's lips quivered in anger. From the corner of her eye, Scootaloo saw Rumble staring at her as if he had found a cockatrice in the clouds.
Scootaloo galloped out of the room, cheeks reddened in anger. The halls of the school, made of white puffy clouds, didn't seem any brighter than the dark cumulonimbi outside.
I need to find Rainbow Dash.
Scootaloo skidded through the clouds, helmet tight on her head and hooves firm on the handles of her scooter as she sped through fields of grey, her semi-mature wings . It was still pouring rather heavily, and Rainbow wouldn't like it that Scootaloo was whizzing around amongst lightning hazards, when she was riding a lightning rod. After her early 'dismissal', she was intent on finding her sister, rain or no. She didn't need any Flight School when Equestria's greatest flyer was in touch with her; fact was, everyday in Flight Youth seemed like a waste of time, when she could easily learn whatever was taught there from Rainbow Dash.
Rainbow Dash wouldn't treat me like a leper. Brash. Arrogant. Outspoken. Those were a few words that could describe the young flyers at Flight Youth. Not that Rainbow Dash was any different characteristically, but she was proud in a cool way. A type of pride that made her the loyalest of ponies.
Rainbow Dash wasn't boring. A vulgar expletive followed by a name came to mind.
Rainbow Dash was patient. She didn't push Scootaloo off a cloud like the tutors at Flight School, nor did Rainbow laugh mockingly like the immature colts and fillies of Flight Youth when Scootaloo struggled to maintain her position in the air like a drowning pony treading water. Rainbow would drill Scootaloo in a different manner, building her up day by day with wing-ups and wing stretches. Rainbow would give breaks, where they would do cool stuff together; trotting around Ponyville, grabbing a bite from Sugarcube Corner, or visiting Rainbow's Main Six friends. One time, Rainbow Dash tried out Scootaloo's scooter, with hilarious results.
Scootaloo's eyes constantly blinked out the pelting rain as she tried to make her way to Rainbow Dash's cloud mansion. Rainbow didn't like the term 'mansion' but Scootaloo insisted, out of respect for anything that was related or owned by Rainbow. She was certain that the path to the mansion was ingrained in her mind deep enough to be able to make it there in the rain. She tried to think of the path, but the heavily consistent fall of rain and deafening whistling of the wet gale was stymieing her voice of thought. Left... Left... A few leaps forward...
*CRACK!* Went a whip of lightning directly beneath Scootaloo. She felt herself lift off the air from a force hitting her scooter and her wings flapped furiously as a reflex response. She had to forsake the scooter, and was struggling to hover but the rain above, like a barrage of insults to her inability to fly, was constantly trying to put her down. She felt her wing muscles strain harder and harder and felt herself going lower in the air, with the veil of rain and wind around her shrouding the senses, giving little room for a cool head. She felt the fatigue in her wing area grow and grow until it suddenly left. And that was when she felt blades of air slice at her sides as she spiralled down to the ground, fur and feathers flying away from the ground below while she was on a one way trip towards it. She tried to get her wings up, to make a last ditch effort to save herself, but they just wouldn't budge. Her thoughts just rang with the word 'no' repeatedly, and something that Rainbow said before, about going down in flames, was the exact opposite of what was happening; a silly pony like her was getting a silly death, flailing helplessly as she found the ground.
She hit strangely soft ground, but it was enough to make her senses momentarily black out and give her a throbbing pain in her left eye. Nothing important. She struggled up, the rain around her still not making any sign of stopping anytime soon. She discovered that she had landed on a cloud, thankfully. She smelled something burning behind her, and found a splintered piece of wood and metal, which she realised, with a mental groan, that it was what remained of her scooter. She found the strength to stand, but what followed after standing was trotting, and she didn't know where to trot to.
*A-CHOO!* blurted Scootaloo suddenly, the sound of her sneeze lost in the rain but very much real to her, in the form of pain in her nose. The downpour was still beating down on her, but Scootaloo never bowed down to adversity. Never give up. Much to the discomfort of her aching legs, she galloped as fast as she could in the rain, uncertain of where they'd take her, and unsure of how dangerous a place she might end up in, so long as she didn't sit down and feel helpless. Or feel like she was frozen in the air, only to tumble down to the ground in an icy, heavy block.
"ARGH!" Scootaloo said as she flapped her wings, flapping them harder than she ever did in her life. She galloped as she did so, and made little jumps, expecting the feeling of weightlessness and air whistling through her feathers to hit her, a feeling that beat eating the best ice cream in Sugarcube Corner or the experience of spending an entire afternoon with the Cutie Mark Crusaders, or so Rainbow Dash tried to describe. The CMC. Water streaked down Scootaloo's face in torrents as the rain amplified its onslaught, and her panting was audible even in the cacophony as her appendages dug into her back with each muscle contraction, like twisting knives. Childhood is so far away. There is only this.
Adrenaline muffed out pain as her legs kept working, left and right, right and left, never stopping for a breath. She closed her eyes, and suddenly there was nothing at her hooves. The ground was gone, the world was air and water. Her wings were spread, but something was off; air was hitting her from below, causing her wings to arc upwards. Somehow, that didn't really matter; the pain was gone, and that was good. Then the pain rushed back like the air in her face, and with it came sobriety, realisation that there was no little cloud at the bottom to cushion her fall. Then, something with a force of a rocket hit her side, and with a final peak of pain, all descended into blissful void.
The rain still hadn't stopped. Shhh it went, breathing out to Scootaloo, a command for her to lay down and rest her bones. Lying on the cold surface of especially soft furniture, Scootaloo felt contrasting warmth radiating towards her exposed underside. She attempted to move her hooves, with the intent of exploring her surroundings.
"Ach!" she hissed, as pain shot through her right forehoof as she tried moving. She drew it towards her body, trying to nurse it. The rain, the struggle, the pain... it felt like millennia ago, or maybe some distant dream that haunted her the night before. At least she could open her eyes, though vision was a little blurry; an ignited fireplace with a Wonderbolts banner above it, and a coffee table with several issues of Cloudsdale Daily strewn offhandedly across its surface, and a framed picture of the Main Six. She could put a hoof on where she was immediately.
"Rainbow... Dash?" she called out, as loud as she could, realising that her voice was hoarse, her throat burning. Despite that, she called out a few times, ears perked up for a reaction. Only the pitter-patter of the stormy weather outside answered. She strained her hearing a little more, and could faintly hear the clopping of hooves, which was definitely coming from inside the house in one of its many expansive corridors. Scootaloo turned her head over the couch she was lying on, squinting at the rainbow-painted door that led from the simple, cloud-walled living room she was in to a corridor, certain that Rainbow Dash would step through, sisterly warmth in her demeanour. She'd have brashness in her voice as she recounted every detail of rescuing Scootaloo's falling form in the sky and sending the filly to her mansion, braving the tempest like a sister should. The clopping of hooves got louder, until they suddenly stopped, like Scootaloo's agitated heart in anticipation of the visitor. The door opened slowly, and Scootaloo couldn't help but feel insecure with how vulnerable she was in that moment.
"Scootaloo?" came a male voice, faintly recognisable. Scootaloo's eyes opened wide as she observed a grey teenage colt enter the room, his usually smooth, slicked back mane in a mess. Rumble closed the door after him, and paced slowly towards Scootaloo, his expression warm.
"You're awake! That's good news, I guess," chuckled Rumble, as Scootaloo just stared silently at his battered form. There was a black patch running horizontally along the side of his stomach, and she realised that he was limping a little on his left fore hoof as he made his way to the couch. He caught her staring, and gave a nervous blush. Scootaloo stood up with an awed expression, and against her body's whims she started walking towards Rumble slowly as he started explaining.
"Don't worry about me, you're definitely worst off. I couldn't really find anyplace else in these neck of the w--" Rumble was cut off by a sudden hug around his neck from Scootaloo, which no-one could predict. Rumble stood rooted to the spot as he gave a quiet little laugh, his face flushed red in embarrassment. As for Scootaloo, she couldn't care less about how painful it was to be standing on her fragile hooves. She could feel his heartbeat, relaxing as the silence and the hug lengthened, and the warmth of his fur, for a good 10 seconds.
"I can't thank you enough," whispered Scootaloo. She tightened the hug, eliciting a surprised grunt from Rumble.
"Twas' nothing," said Rumble quietly, opting to close his eyes and droop his head down.
"Damn it hurts..." Scootaloo said, finally pulling away suddenly and awkwardly, proceeding to make a painful stagger to the couch. At the pitiful sight of Scootaloo, Rumble's reaction was immediate, coming up to her side and holding out a hoof for her to grab for support.
"Don't sweat it, dude. The couch isn't so far away," she said with a smile, while he replied with a silent frown as he watched her trudge the short distance to the comforting caress of the cloud-composed furniture. A sharp pain stabbed her at the base of her wings as she lied down on her back; up till then, she hadn't realised how painful her wings were feeling. Letting out a little cry at the agitation of her wing injury, she immediately sat up on the couch, while Rumble hurriedly rushed to her side.
"Lie down on your belly," he said.
"I'm fine sitting up, thanks, man," she replied friendly, grinning. Unexpectedly, Rumble gave her a glare, his steely light-blue eyes truly intimidating her for a moment.
"I said, lie down on your belly," he commanded. Rumble usually gave options, not commands; his newly-equipped voice was like a tuba note coming out of a flute. Scootaloo's initial smile faded, and she opened her mouth to retort.
"Look, I know that I'm really walk-overable, but just this once, please?" he said. Harsh. Scootaloo conceded; furthermore, she really wasn't in any position to argue, though by this time she was irritated; angry that Rumble could even consider her like the pricks at Flight Youth. She looked into his eyes, and he meant business, the never-before-seen, steely hard gaze of his sky blues in sharp contrast to his normally amicable self. She was in no physical condition to say no, and the warmth of the couch was quite oddly magnetising. So she laid down on her belly, being careful not to grunt even the slightest as her hooves ached, absorbing herself into warmth and pillowy comfort.
"Now, let's see..." said Rumble slowly, and Scootaloo could hear his hooves audibly stepping towards her, even amongst the ruckus the outside rain was generating.
"What... are you doing?" asked Scootaloo, fairly certain that Rumble was staring at her back and wings. He's acting so weird today. Well, as if she really knew him all that well. They weren't really friend friends, like her and the CMC, and they never spent a lot of time outside Flight Youth.
"I'm giving you a massage," he said, maintaining a firm, commanding tone. Scootaloo could hardly believe her ears.
"What?" she nearly screamed, very much taken aback by Rumble's offer. No, his command. This wasn't the colt that shamelessly talked about his collection of antique Wonderbolt figurines, agreed with her hateful opinions of every aspect of Flight Youth, or helped her on about almost anything that she asked of him.
"Relax, I'll try to be quick," said Rumble irritatedly, as Scootaloo's limbs flailed and got her to fall on the carpeted floor of the living room, with painful results. She bit her lip and nearly teared, but soon enough, she felt the surprisingly strong hooves of the colt hooking underneath her shoulders and lifting her up onto the couch, laying her down slowly and delicately like she was a feather. She was trying to convince herself that his gentleness meant that he wasn't up to anything fishy; but then again, some predators like their food as fresh as possible.
"Why are you so tense?" asked Rumble, his voice edgy with annoyance. Scootaloo sighed as she stretched on the couch and kept silent. I don't know, maybe it's because I can't do anything if somepony was going to force himself on me?
"Well, whatever. Anyway, back to now. Massages don't hurt, well, maybe for you they will, but they help. Especially after flying. My bro did this for me all the time when I was a kid," said Rumble as he just sat on one of the couch's hoof rests, not making any sign of starting.
"Sounds gay," said Scootaloo, a little angrily as she said so. Rumble just laughed mirthfully at the remark.
"If it's a need, I don't think it's gay. Plus, he's my brother, and it's just... brother things. I hope you don't take this harshly, but you might not understand."
Scootaloo felt a million times worse for even saying what she said. She gave a deep, exasperated sigh as she buried her face in her forehooves, while Rumble continued.
"I wanted to fly pretty badly even when my wings weren't so developed so I got into all sorts of accidents. Thunderlane was always telling me, 'just practice under my watch'. But I was never a good listener, heh. So he'd just do this thing with his hooves on my back and It'd hurt at first but then it'd start feeling a lot less worse. Then the day after, I would've forgotten all about the accident, no matter how painful it was.
"So I'm asking you, platonically, friend to friend, pegasus to pegasus. Will you allow me to give you a massage?" asked Rumble.
Scootaloo was silent. She didn't want to reply, but the aching all over her body wanted her to say yes. But she couldn't possibly ask for anymore from him; he'd already done so much, taking a lightning bolt to the chest and stomaching her rudeness. Plus, the idea of a massage from a colt she admittedly hardly knew was... preferably avoidable.
After a full minute of silence, Rumble stepped off the hoofrest of the couch and proceeded to lie on his side on the carpeted floor, facing away from Scootaloo. He rested right next to the fireplace, the shifting shadow of his resting form casting long paths across the floor, the coffee table, and the couch.
"I'll be here if you want to reconsider," said Rumble, yawning as he did so.
Scootaloo gave a little smirk and closed her eyes.
She couldn't sleep. It was impossible, given her pained form, the damned rain outside relentlessly beating the large windows (which flanked the sides of the fireplace) and the distracting glow of the fireplace. It had been 10 minutes and she couldn't stand it; the hurt limbs seemed to be growing more problematic by the minute. And with thoughts of trying to decided whether or not she should ask Rumble to 'do a thing with his hooves' on her, she couldn't leave her mind to rest. She didn't like being handled by other ponies, but what other option was there? Thinking was, indeed, hard.
"ARGH!" she cried out, and stretched her hooves, in the process kicking (quite painfully) against the side of the couch and falling off the couch for the second time. This time, she cried out a loud 'ouch', which immediately got Rumble to his hooves.
"Lemme help," said Rumble hastily as he lifted her up onto the couch, but even with his careful touch, Scootaloo couldn't help but wince as she was transported onto the couch. Her eyes were starting to water, as everything she touched seemed like a blade with her increased sensitivity to pain.
"So? You made up yo--"
"JUST DO IT ALREADY!" cried Scootaloo. She needed something, anything to free her from fragility.
"Alright, it'll hurt, A LOT. Bear with me," said Rumble quickly as he positioned himself on top of Scootaloo's lying body, hindhooves on both sides of her body. He started with the wings. Scootaloo's eyes widened.
"AH!" she cried as the base of her wings suddenly felt pressure from Rumble's hooves. She instinctively jerked away, but the colt she was with wasn't going to have any of that.
"I'm going to massage you whether you like it or not," said Rumble. "Bear with me. Bear with me. Relax."
That purposefully soothing voice of Rumble's made her breathe in and out slowly. She tried thinking of other things, she tried mightily hard to think about Rainbow Dash, Sweetie Belle, Applebloom, altogether again at PonyVi--
The next burst of pain shot through Scootaloo from her wings, and she bit down on her tongue to stop another cry from escaping her lips. How could she have been so stupidly stubborn? Maybe it wouldn't have been so hellish if she'd opened up to his suggestions earlier. Maybe. But that was easy to think, given the magnitude of distress her wings were undergoing. The couch, or operating table as she was starting to see it as, wasn't the place for her. Her place was in Ponyville, zipping around with her friends riding along with her on a cart attached to her sc--
"Ah," she squeaked, as the pain returned but was a little less in intensity. It was starting to dissipate, but it was still making her body jerk abruptly as Rumble's hooves made slow but firm circles across her back and base of her wings, his motions finding Scootaloo's nerves and desensitising them from the pain and giving her back muscles much needed relief. After a while, Scootaloo's breathing slowed and she was, for the most part, still. The pain didn't go away, but it didn't feel significant when Rumble's hooves were communicating to her nerves much more deeply, not opening her wounds like the merciless rain, but closing them like a bandage, just that it was warm to the touch and gentle. She found herself arching her back up with his motions, trying to optimise the feeling by digging Rumble's hooves deeper into her skin.
"On to... on to y-your legs," said Rumble nervously, his attitude the opposite of the confidence in his hooves when he was massaging Scootaloo's back. He brought her left foreleg out, so that its underside was exposed for him to massage. He stroked up along the length of the leg with his right hoof while pinning the leg down with his other hoof, drawing a little strangled cry from her as she didn't want to shout in pain. But then he continued, and Scootaloo would just fall again, to the pressure of Rumble's hoof, closing her eyes as all initial inhibition about the whole massaging matter evaporated.
"Do... do you like it?" he suddenly asked, but not without gulping nervously after doing so. Scootaloo found herself smiling.
"I like it," said Scootaloo, almost dreamily. She opened an eye, and saw that Rumble's grey-furred face showed conspicuous beet-red patches on his cheeks. She thought this whole thing was going to be too much for her in the first place, but it ended up being a bit too much for him. She smiled and closed her eyes again.
The remaining limbs that were remaining were tended to in similar fashion, rinse and repeat; Funny thing was, Scootaloo didn't resist, not even when it came to massaging her back legs. And as Rumble was numbing away her pain, muscle by muscle, she'd never felt better letting herself fall vulnerable in the hooves of another. Opening up didn't feel like such a bad thing, especially when she was in a bind. Of course, she couldn't trust everyone. But she could trust in Rumble.
"And that's why," said Rumble, as he saw that his job was finished, "you should always go for a massage after an intense flight. But you weren't flying, were you...?"
"Nah, was trying to get here on a scooter."
"Here here?"
"Yep."
"In the rain?"
"Yep."
"Seriously?"
"Could you massage my back again?"
"Oh, Celestia," said Rumble in mock disappointment, though he couldn't say that he wasn't amused by Scootaloo. He conceded, and could audibly hear Scootaloo coo under his touches. He could continue on and on at a consistent pace, and observed the fur coated skin on Scootaloo's back, right above her wings, ripple under his motions. Then and there, as he looked at her now relaxed wings, an idea came to him.
"Say, Scootaloo. I think that I could teach you a thing or two about flying. What do you say to that?" asked Rumble. Scootaloo's body rose and fell with her breaths, and she snored. Loudly.
Rumble shook his head, and with a satisfied smile on his face, curled up on the carpet, his uninjured side facing the floor.