birdwithoutasong | These are the days it never rains but it pours

Entry tags:

These are the days it never rains but it pours

Who: Ky Kiske (

closedcircuit) and Sol Badguy (

immoralflame)
Universe: Guilty Gear Canon
What: Ky makes a move on Sol.
Warning: Walls.

It wasn't as though Ky had tried to indulge his thoughts on the subject. The only thing he should be feeling for Sol was exasperation, and he knew it, knew that was the most he could reasonably expect Sol to feel for him. Saying that over and over hadn't made it true, much to Ky's annoyance, and as much as Ky wanted to draw his sword and get Sol to fight him like he meant it for once, his hands left his side for another reason.

Perhaps Sol had positioned the wall behind him to use it to push against once they got started, perhaps he'd wanted to make sure there weren't any distractions, or perhaps he really was just so arrogant or lazy that he didn't care where he started off fighting and whether or not it made sense. Whatever the cause, Ky pushed forward, his hands going to Sol's shoulders to try to pin him against the wall while he leaned in to press his lips to Sol's. It was too early to regret before he did it, because he wasn't planning to, and once he was moving his thoughts were focused on how Sol's lips would feel and the possibility that Sol might punch him before he got there.

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Whatever else he had been, Sol had managed to be a sort of constant in Ky's life, one who had certainly been around enough for Ky to have had an awful lot of thoughts about. Some of those thoughts had, unfortunately, went places that they weren't supposed to, though certainly none had gone so far as they were at now. It was a little more than stress and anxiety, after all -- Ky wouldn't do it if it were just that, if it were just that he'd still be throwing lightning balls at Sol's head instead of grinding forward into his body, reaching up to try to nip at Sol's neck.

The grinding might be intended to tide Sol over, but Ky was either far more riled up already or far less experienced or both, because by this point he was feeling painfully close, and he wanted...more contact, to be closer to Sol before he came. If he got to have a say in it, although he wasn't particularly concerned about how close he was. It was still good, after all.

It felt right.

That was the worrying part. That was the part that shouldn't have been, right nestled in there with any sort of reliance Ky might have built on Sol to be anything. Sol hadn't cared what kind of an impact he'd left on people as he pushed on through what semblance of life he led, when he probably should have paid more attention. Should've paid more attention to the impact others made on it, too. He didn't like admitting that there were some who had, didn't like admitting he had ties to anyone. People were passing encounters, things that only happened a few times and carried little weight. Ky carried little weight, according to Sol, but that wasn't why he pinned him more firmly to the door to lift his other leg over a hip with both hands beneath thighs to point out that Ky should keep them there.

If it wasn't the rupture of stress and anxiety, Sol didn't want to know what it was. Didn't want to be told, didn't want it to even come up. He could handle it if it was; expect it--well, he'd expect it from anyone but Ky, but he could at least draw sense from it. But he wasn't thinking about that, now, far too distracted by the mouth at his neck and sliding an arm behind Ky's back to pull him away from the door after being sure the kid'd hold onto him. Needed cooperation for this.

Perhaps it was better that Sol hadn't paid more attention. Had he, he might have backed off, found a way to somehow be even more distant and dismissive than he'd already been. Regardless of how Sol felt, Ky had needed to have someone who saw him as something other than the uniform, and Sol's disrespect had been...grounding at times. When everyone else had been relying on him, it had been good to have someone who would knock him down and show him that he still had a far way to go. To let him be himself, to some degree.

Maybe he still needed that.

Ky wouldn't go talking about that, couldn't even quite admit it to himself. Beyond that, he'd never tried confessing anything emotional to Sol -- even simpler feelings, like loneliness -- out of an awareness that Sol wouldn't care, and out of a belief that he pushed them all to the side, then they wouldn't get in the way of what he needed to do.

Ky twisted against Sol, body tangling up with the other man's s he obliged, holding on tightly and leaning in as close as he could to press his mouth against Sol's skin, to drag his tongue across his shoulder. It was easy enough to focus on this now, Sol filling up all of Ky's attention.

Sol could knock Ky down every peg there was even if he had paid attention, even if he had been even more dismissive. Stuck in the same place, he'd have stayed rude, stayed brash and disrespectful and a general pain in the ass for any higher officer. To remind Ky regularly that he was still a child. To point out that children didn't belong on the battlefield. Even after Ky'd grown up, he was still naive, so Sol would continue to knock him down.

If Ky wanted a rude awakening to ground him, Sol was the best for it.

Emotions had little place in Sol's world, numbing himself to them as much as he could because they only got in the way of things, though rage was often what was allowed to seep through. That was one similarity between them, and maybe that was part of what made this so very, very easy.

As easy as carrying Ky over to the bed and all but dropping onto it, keeping the blond in his lap; standing was becoming a nuisance. The reasoning didn't matter now, though it probably would later. But now? Now was just how thick the air was, Ky's weight, how badly he wanted it situated just so, and the resistance of skin against Sol's teeth as he marred another patch of Ky's throat.

Edited 2012-12-23 08:01 (UTC)

Sol could certainly keep knocking Ky down, but for all that Sol had more influence on Ky than many people there was a large part of Ky that would keep popping up again. He could be knocked down and still come to as naive and optimistic as he had been before, because it was hard to see how being pessimistic was supposed to be better, hard to see how he could believe in failure when he had to believe in himself.

If Ky had been such a child that he had no place on the battlefield then the world should be a different one, one that didn't require his presence there. As it had been, Ky wasn't going to stay out of the battle, to lie low only for the sake of his own life and end up not having that life mean anything. He had fought because he'd had to, really, and he intended not to give up or stop now that they'd won.

Sol was able to move Ky with more ease than he'd expected, and it occurred to Ky that perhaps he should struggle or squirm, or do something other than tighten his hold on Sol's shoulders, momentarily concerned only that he might be dropped.

On the bed, though, some sort of instinct mixed with arousal took over, as he pushed forward against Sol, sprawling in his lap now. His legs shifted to wrap around Sol, grinding himself against the other man. His breath was heavy, his brain struggling to come up with something to say that would appropriately suit the moment.

Ky's optimism and determination knew no bounds; part of what made Ky simultaneously annoying as Hell but easy to follow as a leader (for most people; Sol's opinion tended to stay rooted to the "annoying as Hell" option). It kept them butting heads, kept the charges building. For it to turn out like this, though, wasn't anything that ever should have happened. Hard to care, right now.

The world should have been a different one, he'd get no argument from Sol on that. The world should never have needed children to fight its wars. Impossible to change now. It wasn't something Sol let himself dwell on--he tried not to dwell on anything he couldn't change. Couldn't change, only seek to stop the man responsible. He'd done his grieving, his mourning, his self-loathing a century ago. Made himself numb. Moving on was the only option. Moving on and preventing that kind of catastrophe from ever happening again. He was the only one who needed to answer that; Ky should have cast off the mantle of a knight with the end of the war, should have tried to meld into the peace. Kid was an overachiever.

Overachiever and reactive as Hell.

Sol grabbed Ky's hips, pulling them tight to his own but holding them still. Before this all started, Sol wouldn't have been able to register Ky as attractive. Whether it was the demanding or the abandon, Sol wouldn't not be able to see that. And fuck it was tempting to just shove Ky onto his back and work him open and-- Sol shook off that line of thought, attention going to prompting Ky up onto his knees, leaving his throat to bite and drag his teeth lower. Gonna need to try and get Ky's pants off, however that was going to work. Grabbing his ass again probably wasn't the way to go, though. Too damn bad.

It was entirely impossible to say what should and shouldn't have happened between them, because there was what had happened, and that overrode both. For it to turn out like this was something that required all the little things that had happened, everything that had led to what Ky in particular felt, but also whatever made Sol respond in this way, but it was also something that they'd been headed towards for what seemed like a while. It was something that Ky had spent a lot of time trying not to think about, and consequently a lot of time thinking about.

Moving on was something that Ky could agree with, but he wanted to move on towards something. It shouldn't be about anyone making himself numb or anything like that. It was about taking the history he had as a knight, the respect he'd earned and the goals that he'd worked towards, and continuing on with them even after the war -- the obvious threat to humanity -- was over. There were still things that needed to be dealt with, and Ky couldn't in good conscience leave them alone. The uniform was a handy symbol of what he represented, of the history he had trying to do good. It was about trying to be proactive, not just reactive.

Which didn't really apply to sex, particularly not with how he was still fumbling through it and with just how in control of everything Sol was. It was definitely a reactive act, Ky letting Sol shift him in whatever way Sol thought was best as long as Ky could still reach out and touch, as long as he was still being touched. There didn't seem to be any risk of that going away, even if Ky was starting to feel the strain of too many clothes still being in the picture. He couldn't exactly fix that when Sol's hands were on his ass, and he wasn't about to try to remove Sol's hands. Instead he lay one hand flat on Sol's chest, the other one going for a shoulder to pull and tug and try to grind his hips against Sol's.

What made Sol react to this in the way he had wasn't something he wanted to acknowledge. It'd been a while since Sol'd bothered with sex, but that shouldn't have had enough impact to drag him into this. There was a lot that shouldn't have been, and it would weigh on him for a while after this--even if Ky didn't regret it, and even if Sol couldn't give a rat's ass about it for now, a skewed sense of morality could still pick and choose what it wanted to hang onto. Even if this was inevitable to some degree, Sol probably could have done more to refuse it.

Sol was moving on towards something. Something Ky wouldn't understand not on a surface level, but on one that ran decades deeper. It was necessary to ignore the throb of old scars in order to move past them, so that they wouldn't interfere. While Ky sought to protect and serve, Sol sought to eliminate and only eliminate; to finally unleash over one hundred and fifty years' worth of rage, of loathing, of resentment. The Flame of Corruption.

And corruption carried now an additional meaning, if he ever felt like degrading the man he'd become in all that time. Didn't matter now. Indulging in the idiotic side of things, in the side that wanted Ky badly enough that he put the rest of the world on hold. Something to look back on and wonder what the Hell he was doing. For the moment, he just squeezed Ky's ass and finally went about properly urging him up high enough to undo Ky's pants and tug them down just past his hips with one hand, the other holding Ky's hip firmly to make sure he didn't start with his cock being freed. Ky could shove or push or pull at him soon enough and Sol'd let him. In the meantime, undressing Ky further seemed like a great idea.

Ky would have been irritated and annoyed had Sol done more to refuse it, and while he knew perfectly well that him being annoyed and irritated seldom changed Sol's mind there was a certain persistence that could have come to bear. Would have, if he could get over the embarrassment intrinsic in a scenario where Sol turned him down to get to the point where he realized that Sol was actually attracted to him. Because yes, there were all the reasons that this was a terrible idea, but then there was the fact that Ky was generally touch-starved, that even if this didn't have all the emotions he wanted there to be, at least it was something a lot more vibrant than most of his life had been so far. A lot more alive.

Ky could probably easily enough understand what Sol was moving towards, if Sol would talk about it, was willing to explain anything at all ever. But no, he had to be content in his distance. If his cause was so very important, then, really, he should be willing to accept some help, should at least let Ky know what the situation was. Whether or not he thought Ky could help -- and there was no reason he couldn't, if the cause was good enough -- he could at least better understand Sol.

Ky shifted, eventually cooperative with this particular goal to remove his pants even though it had required the temporary cessation of contact. Ky didn't exactly want to hold still while Sol undressed him, though, that didn't seem very exciting at all. So he braced his weight and freed up one hand, enough to fumble at Sol's pants and try to get various stubborn belts off. "You're too dressed," he muttered, because clearly that was a problem, clearly taking off Ky's pants meant that Sol's should already be gone.

Sure, Ky'd be persistent about it. When he wanted something, he knew the kid'd damn well do what he could to get his way. That was pretty much the reason they fought, far as Sol could be assed to care. As for realizing that hitch in Sol's mental wiring (because that's what it was, for all intents and purposes), it'd be lucky if Ky could have without Sol's response. Though there's something to be said about vibrancy in this; for as much as it was that for Ky, something that gave him maybe a little sense of being alive, it served something similar for Sol. In his case, maybe it let him feel a little more human.

But that understanding would never be there in full, and it just wasn't something worth trying to sort out or even begin to bother with. Ky wouldn't stop asking questions, not until Sol beat the idea that the kid didn't have to have all the answers when they weren't about him or what he was doing. This was Sol's. Something he needed to do, wanted to do, and both required he be on his own for it. No outside help. Didn't need it, didn't want it. His. If Ky wanted it in Biblical terms, it was the only thing Sol could do for some shred of redemption.

Because letting himself get jumped by Ky really worked in that direction.

A bored or boring partner didn't really do anything for Sol, so the continued enthusiasm was the best response Ky could give. Also meant that Sol wasn't letting it get out of hand. Though there was amusement to be had in the way Ky had a very clear idea of what to do--always did. Or thought he did, anyway. The complaint earned a rumbling noise from Sol, amusement of some kind going by the smirk on his lips. If Ky was touch-starved, though, Sol was going to spoil him absolutely rotten; he liked to touch, to know what was under his hands. And that could be involved with just throwing Ky down and--dominance thing. Caving to that might happen. Still human, really; he had enough control and the limiter to keep it from being worse, but damn.

"That so?" he drawled, not really putting any effort behind the words; a little heavier than they ought to be, though. Ky could fumble all he wanted, because Sol occupied himself with Ky's boots after dragging his hands down along the man's thighs, body heat enough to be felt through the uniform, lingering. Yeah, these weren't staying on long once they could be removed. It'd probably be frowned upon if he tore the good Captain Kiske's pants off the rest of the way, wouldn't it?

The thing was, either this mission of Sol's was something that Ky wouldn't care about even if he knew everything -- in which case Sol should simply tell him because that would be the easiest way to dissuade him -- or it was something that would concern Ky, and therefore mattered to him. Either way, Sol shouldn't be the one to determine whether or not Ky needed to know about something. He wasn't his superior officer, and never had been, never would have been despite his superior age.

Ky could talk at great deal about redemption, and how much some things could help. How it wasn't about making himself alone in the world, how it should never be about. It was about serving something greater than himself, it was about making a difference. For Sol to insist on going at this on his own was irresponsible at best.

Rather like what they were doing now.

Ky would find it impossible to muster anything less than enthusiasm for what they doing, even given that. He knew he probably shouldn't reward whatever that response was, but there was that whole touch-starved fact, and the way that he needed to get Sol's pants off, stubbornly insistent even though he lacked as much coordination as he might like to have. If he was going to be spoiled rotten then he wanted to start it off by having Sol completely naked (although in his head that included Sol's headband).

"I'll fix it," Ky murmured back, still stubbornly working at it, even as he wanted to go back to doing far less forward-thinking motions. But he knew enough to be able to weigh up the consequences of his actions, and as much fun as simply rutting against Sol would be, he wanted more than that so why not make the more than that happen in the near future. He finally got all of Sol's belts on his pants undone -- as well as one of the ones lingering on the man's arm -- and tugged stubbornly at the pants. Move with him to help with this, Sol. (Otherwise he'd have to start just sticking a hand inside of the pants.)

It would be incredibly frowned upon, and also raged about and possibly there would be rage-induced electricity, because Ky didn't have anything else to wear if those got ripped while they were here. Not to mention that it would be incredibly unnecessary, which ought to be enough to keep Sol from doing it even given that he'd probably ignore all the other potential consequences. Just... Leave his pants in one piece and everything would go a lot smoother, Sol.

Except that Sol lived his life on his terms, meaning he was the one to decide who got what information out of him (read: no one), and he didn't take orders from hot blonds unless there was something kinky involved. And he really didn't even do much of that. His mission would probably draw Ky's concern and he'd want to help, but the fact of the matter was that there really wasn't any way Ky could help. The power involved in this mess was beyond the kid, and whatever help Ky could give otherwise, Sol could do just fine on his own. Didn't need to drag anyone else into this mess, anyway. They'd already dragged the whole world into it.

Sol'd point out that yeah, sure, redemption didn't necessitate solitude, but if Sol had anyone with him? They'd end up losing their lives, and he knew that. He was serving something greater than himself, making a difference; just not the kind of difference Ky'd expect, and what he served had many faces. He didn't need someone holding him back for this.

Didn't need Ky getting so deep under his skin that shaking him off became a task in and of itself. Fuck.

Probably shouldn't reward Sol being an ass. Probably shouldn't be in this position in the first place. Obviously the answer to both those statements was "fuck that", and the correct follow-up involved Sol dropping onto his back and hauling Ky up above his pelvis and onto his stomach. Made it easier to get Ky's boots off while he kicked off his own. Ky was free to shove his hand down Sol's pants if that's what he wanted to do, though; no objections.

With Ky sitting higher up, Sol lifted his hips to shift his pants down past them, subsequently reaching up to pull Ky down to him by the back of his neck.

"Y'sure?" Mocking, still with as little effort as before, and the instinct to take over pulsed in the back of his head. That... could wait, just wait. Wait until after Sol ran his hands back up from Ky's hips to his shoulders, warming the skin and pressing on it, running them back down to slide under uniform pants and push them as low as he can for now. He'll need to move Ky off of him in order to pull them off the rest of the way... but not right then. Right then, his hands just slid back to grab at Ky's ass.

Edited 2013-02-10 03:04 (UTC)

Ky would easily confirm that Sol didn't take orders from pretty much anyone, hotness and blondness entirely irrelevant to the matter. That didn't mean that Ky agreed with the decision, and it didn't mean that Sol suddenly had the right to keep information from Ky. If he wasn't going to directly tell Ky, fine -- well, not fine, but Ky had no choice to accept that in between pushing for more as much as he could -- but he had no right to say what was beyond Ky. That the whole world was already involved meant Ky had already been "dragged into" it. His whole life was a product of the changes that had taken place, and if his life was going to change as a result of people trying to make things bad again, then he wanted to have some say in it, wanted to be able to do what he could to keep it from happening.

It wasn't just Sol's mess, because it could affect everyone. Ky had no wish to lose his life, but some things were more important than just him, and he'd already come to terms with the fact that he could die. If Ky was having an effect on Sol, one that meant he might be able to get some answers from the man, that could only be a good thing in his mind.

The effect that he was having now was a little different from that, but more desirable considering the current set of circumstances. If this was Sol being an ass, Ky could deal with it a little better than he usually could. Being hauled around like this provoked a different reaction, after all. And there could be no question as to whether or not Sol was exerting any effort, even with Ky on top like this.

That only lasted a brief moment before Sol moved again. Even if it wasn't high effort, at least what he did do made it very clear that he wanted it. And Ky had the hope of enticing even more effort from him. But then there were hands on his ass, and a spark of electricity and a little squeak, given that Ky hadn't been expecting it, wasn't quite sure how to process the sudden pickup in feelings that it caused. Other than by nipping sharply at Sol's neck and deciding that his hand needed to be somewhere else.

A break in taking off Sol's pants was acceptable, he decided, in return for sticking his hand there. It wasn't enough to make him hesitate, but there was a moment of oddness in touching someone else's cock that he had to deal with, had to process with the way it felt with his hand pressed against it. It wasn't unpleasant, just highly unfamiliar, and the moment passed soon enough, Ky adjusting his touch to stroke along the length of it, trying to earn a reaction from Sol.

The thread of the conversation, whatever Sol had been mocking him for, was far less important than what else seemed to be happening.

No point in dragging anyone further into it, then. And Sol could damn well keep this information from whoever the fuck he wanted. And the scope of this really was beyond Ky, not to mention the mechanics of it. Ky could either deal with the fact that he'd never get answers from Sol--about his aims, his purpose, his methods--or bitch about it. Sol'd ignore either reaction, though honestly the former was the preferred.

It was Sol's mess because he'd had his hand in it since the beginning.

Unlike this situation, because clearly Ky'd had something in mind. The thought that the blond had managed to, frankly, seduce Sol (and he'd have laughed at the idea if it'd ever been pitched outside of this, hard; never would have entered his mind) definitely... That was all Ky. Every inch of this was Ky's doing. The spark, however, earned an arched brow and more of Sol's amusement; that was less engineered, pretty sure. Did prompt him to squeeze Ky's ass.

That was also very clearly Ky's curiosity and then hand wrapping around his cock a few seconds later, and that left very little room for any kind of reaction other than a little more warmth under Sol's hands (still happily grabbing ass) and an almost needy jerk of Sol's hips under Ky's. Fuck. He'd probably call Ky lucky to have started this when he did, when it'd been this long since Sol'd bothered with sex. And honestly, Sol wouldn't care if it was true or not, or if he'd have wound up with Ky in his lap either way. Right now, it didn't matter. Right now, he just managed to finish pushing his jeans out of the way as much as possible and shifted Ky back into his lap properly. Didn't want to move, but... Really, that'd be the best idea, here. Couple ways to do this, and Sol needed some thread of self-awareness in order to be able to figure out which would be best.

Hotels have the sense anymore to leave condoms and lube in their side tables? Barely managed to pass his brain before Sol pushed himself to sit up and went for Ky's throat again. What conversation?

There are times, Ky is certain, that the only way to get out is to go a little deeper first. Not that getting out of the fight is what he wants. He has a duty to protect people, and that's not something that ended when the war did, and it's not something that's going to end just because the types of battles he's fighting now require a little more subterfuge, just because he's facing more resistance from people that should be his allies than he used to have to deal with. What Ky expects and demands from Sol is a complicated topic, a little different than what he expects from other people, but it's easy enough to point out that he's getting far less than he wants.

Ky's not so naive as to think that Sol will feel any more inclined to him just because they've slept together, and he's not so cynical that he'd even consider this a way to find out more of Sol's going-ons. In fact, Sol's going-ons are, for once, one of the very last things on Ky's find.

There are so much better parts of Sol to focus on now.

That jerk of the hips into Ky's touch on Sol's cock speaks volumes to the former knight; it's a relief to know that he can pick out Sol's pleasure even without the experience to know what he's doing. (And it's much better to think of it like that than to be aware of how long it has been for Sol. He's willing to take responsibility for his own corruption, but it's never occurred to him to think of Sol as someone he can be a bad influence on.)

Ky slides further into Sol's lap easily, those hands on his ass feeling somehow forbidden and equally enticing. The awareness that it's forbidden for a reason drops away entirely as Sol goes after his throat again. Ky's hand reaches around to Sol's back so he can drag himself closer, so he can wiggle in search of that friction that his body is arguing so strongly for.

That only works if you're already deep in it. No way out? Push until you come out the other side. For Sol, he knows that's the answer. Only one. Can't leave this shit halfway. Means too much. God, it means too much. But Ky? It's not his fight, not this part. Ky's not a soldier any more, not a knight. He's a cop. Cop with his own demons to tangle with, so he doesn't need Sol's. While that might have them crossing paths, it doesn't mean Ky needs to put his nose in Sol's business to get his job done.

Sol won't tell him jack. Nothing Ky does can or will change his mind.

He will, however, mark Ky's throat further with bites and sucking bruises alike. There's no real such thing as anyone being a "bad influence" on Sol. He's too old, too set in his ways. At least there. Having Ky, though... There's something intimate about their fights. Something about crawling into each other's heads as they trade blows. It's some bizarre shade of normalcy, expected and sometimes good. The kind of good that creeps into his blood and heats it in a way differently from his magic.

Crawling into each other's skin is very, very different.

Even as Ky slides in closer, Sol pulls him in flush by the ass, grants him opportunity for that friction. But only for a moment, because he brings a heated hand between them to wrap around Ky's cock, thumb against the underside as he gives it a firm stroke--testing, and maybe giving him something back and to encourage.

Ky's always been deep in it, and maybe Sol thinks it was by choice, that Ky could have chosen to do nothing, to focus on survival more than anything else, but Ky knows himself, knows he needs more than his life, and less than his life. He has his purpose: to help people, to put smiles on faces when he can and to protect people when he can't do that much, and to pray for them when he fails to protect. Ky's job is more than to just follow the orders of his superiors, it has to be, because to blindly do as he is told, without understanding where this is coming from, without understanding the ways in which his superiors have been lying to him... That would do much more harm than good.

Sol's not another person who's lying to him, but he's also not helping, not generally.

But there's another reason, beyond what Ky hopes to get from Sol, that the former knight commander spends so much time going after Sol when their paths meet, and that's the story told by the familiarity of their movements. It's the way he can let himself fall into a state of fighting, can let everything else in his mind fall away in favor of focusing on Sol's movements, on meeting and clashing. For all that there's something predictable about how their fights always end, the movements themselves are something special, every single time.

This is an extension of that, no matter what Sol thinks.

Ky's grip on Sol's cock falters a little when his own gets that contact, but he does his best to recover, to swallow down the threat of a moan. Ky wiggles in Sol's lap, one hand going to the back of Sol's neck as he pulls himself in as close as he can and still allow their hands in between them. He works to imitate the exact pressure stimulation that Sol had given him on Sol's own cock, slipping it in between his other, more experimental touches.

Sol isn't someone whose reactions are that easy to read, but Ky's trying, trying to see what he likes so he can do it more, so he can make Sol pleased in a way that will undoubtedly be different than the giddy reaction spiralling its way through Ky now.

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These are the days it never rains but it pours

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