Chapter 3: Rising Action
The sun hung low in the sky as Marie and Matthieu made their way towards the beach at Luc-sur-Mer, the wind whipping their hair with the scent of salt and brine. The drive from Caen had been filled with laughter and lively conversation, the tension of their last encounter replaced with a sense of ease and camaraderie formed by their mutual masturbation in the darkness of the previous night. Marie found herself drawn to Matthieu's deep, resonant voice as he recounted stories of his travels, his passion for history, and his love for cats. She laughed at his anecdote about Jaspar, his Moroccan stray, who had a peculiar fondness for stealing socks.
"So, you're saying I should be wary of my socks when I come over?" she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
Matthieu chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "Indeed, you should. Jaspar has a particular fondness for the fine wool ones, especially those with a hint of lavender."
Marie's gaze drifted to the horizon, where the sun was beginning to dip below the water, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. "This is beautiful," she murmured, her voice soft with awe.
"Yes, it is," he replied. But he wasn't looking at the sunset, he was admiring the glow of golden hour light on her. "You know, Marie, this is the first time in a long time that I've felt... alive. With you, it's like I'm experiencing everything for the first time again." His voice was soft, filled with a vulnerability that made her heart ache.
She looked at him, her eyes searching his. "I feel it too, Matthieu. There's something about you that makes me want to... explore, to know more. It's like we're kindred spirits."
Matthieu smiled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered, tracing the curve of her jaw.
"Kindred spirits, indeed. I have a feeling that this is just the beginning of something... magical." He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers.
Marie felt her heart race as he leaned in, his breath warm on her cheeks. She closed her eyes, anticipating his kiss, but instead felt the soft brush of his lips against her forehead. She opened her eyes, a question in them.
Matthieu smiled, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. "I want to explore every inch of you, Marie. Every curve, every scar, every freckle. But I also want to savor this moment, to build this connection slowly and deliberately.
I want to make you feel cherished, desired, and adored. And I want to do that with every kiss, every touch. I want to make love to you slowly, to explore every inch of your body, to learn your sounds, your tastes, your scents."
Marie's breath hitched at his words, her body aching with need. She wanted him to take her right there, on the beach, under the setting sun. But she also saw the wisdom in his words, the desire to build something lasting and meaningful.
"You're right," she whispered, her voice raw with emotion. "I want that too, Matthieu.
More than anything," Marie admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She reached up and cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing against the roughness of his goatee. She felt the heat of his skin, the warmth of his breath against her palm. "But I want to respect this connection we have, to let it grow naturally. Like a flower blooming in its own time."
Matthieu smiled, his eyes soft with understanding and desire. "I appreciate that, Marie. You're not like anyone I've ever met. You're patient, kind, and wise beyond your years.
I want to do this right, Marie. I want to cherish you, to worship you, to make you feel like the goddess you are."
Marie's heart swelled at his words, her eyes welling with unshed tears. She leaned into his touch, her body aching for more, but knowing that she had found something rare and precious in Matthieu.
"Thank you, Matthieu," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I feel the same way."
He smiled, his eyes searching hers. "Good. Now, come on, let's go exploring.
I have a feeling there's more to this beach than meets the eye," Matthieu said, extending his hand towards her. Marie took it, her heart fluttering at the contact, and together they began to walk along the beach. The sand was cool and damp beneath their feet, the waves crashing against the shore in a steady rhythm. The sun had almost completely dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in hues of dark blue and purple.
"So, tell me more about this 'benefactor' of yours," Matthieu said, his voice casual, yet there was an underlying curiosity in his tone.
Marie hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to share. Not that there was much. She had received the mysterious letter and key, but she knew little about the person who had sent them. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation ahead. "Well, I'm not sure where to start. I guess it began last night, after I left your apartment. I got home and found a strange letter waiting for me. It was left inside my apartment while I was out, which was... unsettling, to say the least."
Matthieu's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing with concern. "What did the letter say?"
Marie shrugged, trying to remain nonchalant. "It was all very cryptic and vague.
The letter was signed by an anonymous benefactor who claims to know about my passion for art and history, and that I'm the perfect person to uncover some secrets hidden within the city. They invited me to meet them at the Musée de Normandie at sunset today." Marie paused, looking up at Matthieu to gauge his reaction.
Matthieu's brow furrowed as he absorbed the information. "That's... intriguing. And more than a little strange. Do you think it could be a prank?"
Marie shook her head, her eyebrows knitting together in thought. "I don't think so.
The letter was handwritten, and the envelope was sealed with a wax crest—it was all very... authentic," Marie replied, her voice laced with a mix of excitement and unease. She couldn't shake off the feeling that this was real, that she was being drawn into something bigger than herself.
Matthieu's eyes narrowed, a look of determination flashing across his face. "In that case, we need to take this seriously. Whoever this benefactor is, they seem to have taken an interest in you. And while that could be a good thing, we need to be cautious.
I don't want you going into this alone."
Matthieu's voice was stern, his gaze unwavering as he looked at her.
Marie nodded, appreciating his concern. "I agree. That's why I asked you to come with me."
Matthieu smiled, his expression softening. "I'm glad you did. I want to help, and I want to make sure you're safe."
Marie felt a warmth spread through her at his words. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, Matthieu.
I'm glad you're here," Marie said, her voice filled with sincerity.
Matthieu gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go and tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. The wind picked up, whipping strands of Marie's hair across her face. He reached out and gently brushed them away, his fingers lingering on her cheek. "You've got sand in your hair," he said, his voice soft.
Marie smiled, her green eyes sparkling in the fading light. "So do you," she replied, trailing her fingers through his dark locks.
She felt a deep connection with him, a sense of shared history and understanding that transcended the physical. "I've always loved the beach at sunset. It's so peaceful, so full of possibility."
Matthieu nodded, his eyes reflecting the dusky hues of the sky. "Yes, it is. There's something about the beach that makes me feel small, yet connected to something greater than myself." He paused, his gaze wandering to the horizon before turning back to her. "So, what do you make of this benefactor? Do you think they could be connected to your art and history passion?"
Marie took a deep breath, her mind racing with possibilities.
"I don't know, Matthieu. That's just it. I have no idea who it could be. I mean, who knows about my passion for art and history, aside from close friends and colleagues?" She shook her head, her brow furrowing in thought. "I've never even told anyone about my theory on the hidden secrets of Normandy. It's just something I've been working on in my free time, a personal project of sorts."
Matthieu's expression turned thoughtful as he listened to her. He rubbed his chin, his goatee rustling softly.
"And what theory might that be, Marie?"
Marie hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. She wasn't sure how much she should reveal, but she trusted Matthieu. She took a deep breath and began to speak, her voice low and passionate.
"I believe there are secrets hidden within our fair city, secrets that have been buried for centuries. Secrets that could change our understanding of Normandy's history forever. I've been researching, digging through ancient texts and artifacts, trying to piece together clues that others may have overlooked." She paused, her eyes searching his.
"I can't explain it, but I feel like I'm on the verge of something big. Something that could rewrite the history books." Marie's voice was filled with a mix of excitement and trepidation.
Matthieu's eyes widened slightly, his expression turning serious. "That's incredible, Marie. And maybe that's what this benefactor is alluding to. Perhaps they have information or artifacts that could help you in your research."
Marie nodded, her mind racing with possibilities. "Yes, that's what I thought too. But who would have such information?
And why would they reach out to me?" Marie mused, her brow furrowing in thought.
"Well, we might find some answers at the museum," Matthieu suggested, looking towards the setting sun. "Why don't we head there now? It's not too far from here, and we can at least start looking for any clues or connections."
Marie nodded, her eyes sparkling with determination. "Yes, that's a good idea. I've been wanting to visit the Musée de Normandie for a while now. It's one of the best places to learn about our region's rich history."
She turned towards the path that led back to the car park, her mind already racing with possibilities. Matthieu fell into step beside her, his long legs easily matching her pace.
"So, tell me more about this theory of yours," he said, his voice curious yet casual, as if they were discussing nothing more than the weather. Marie appreciated his ability to shift gears effortlessly, from the passionate intensity of their beachside conversation to this more laid-back banter as they strolled towards the museum.
They reached the Musée de Normandie just as the last rays of sunlight were disappearing below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of deep purple and navy blue. The museum was a grand building, its stone façade illuminated by the soft glow of the surrounding lampposts. As they approached the entrance, Marie felt a sense of anticipation mixed with a hint of trepidation. She had been to the museum many times before, but tonight it felt different. Tonight, it felt like a doorway to something unknown, something exhilarating and possibly dangerous.
They entered the dimly lit museum, the heavy wooden door creaking shut behind them, sealing them off from the world outside. A chill ran down Marie's spine as she took in the grand, empty foyer, the silence broken only by the distant hum of the air conditioning.
Matthieu paused, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back, sending a jolt of electricity through her. "Do you feel that?" he whispered, his voice barely audible in the cavernous space. "There's something... different about tonight."
Marie nodded, her breath visible in the cool air. "Yes, it's like the museum is alive, waiting for us." She shivered, not entirely from the chill. She had visited the museum countless times, but tonight it felt like a stranger, a mysterious lover beckoning her closer.
She took a tentative step forward, her heart pounding in her chest like the distant echo of a drum. Just as she was about to suggest they split up to cover more ground, she heard it—a faint meow from a nearby exhibit. Her eyes widened, her gaze snapping towards the sound. Matthieu must have heard it too, for he turned to her, his brows furrowing in confusion.
"Did you hear that?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. He nodded, his eyes scanning the darkened exhibit halls. "What could that be?" he murmured, his hand tightening slightly on her back. Marie felt a shiver of apprehension, but also a spark of excitement. She had always loved cats, their independent spirits, their mysterious ways. This could be a sign, a clue left by her benefactor.
The meow came again, louder this time, more insistent.
Marie hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting to Matthieu. He nodded slightly, his gaze locked onto her, as if to say, "Go on." Marie took a deep breath and stepped forward, her footsteps echoing in the vast, empty space.
She followed the sound, her heart pounding in her chest like the distant rumble of thunder. The meow guided her through the dimly lit halls of the museum, past exhibits that she had seen countless times before.
But tonight, they seemed different, more ominous, as if hiding secrets they hadn't revealed to her yet. The sound led her to an exhibit dedicated to the ancient history of Normandy, with artifacts and maps dating back to the early Middle Ages. The meow seemed to be coming from a glass case in the corner, filled with dusty, old parchments and maps. Marie approached it, her eyes scanning the contents, her breath fogging up the glass. And then she saw it—an old, worn-out map, tucked away in one corner, barely visible under a layer of dust. With trembling hands, she reached out and tapped on the glass, her heart pounding in her chest. "Matthieu," she called out, her voice barely a whisper.
He materialized beside her, his eyes following her gaze to the glass case. "Look," she said, pointing at the map.
Matthieu leaned in, his brow furrowing as he examined the old parchment. "It's a map of the Normandy coastline," he murmured, his finger tracing the outline of the familiar landscape. "But it's... different. These markings here—they don't correspond to any known historical sites."
Marie nodded, her heart pounding with excitement and apprehension. "That's what I thought too.
It's almost as if it's a secret map, showing locations that have been intentionally hidden from history." Marie's voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with intrigue.
Matthieu's gaze flicked from the map to Marie, his expression a mix of awe and concern. "This could be big, Marie. But it's also dangerous. Whoever sent this letter and this map—they want us to have it. But why? What do they hope to gain?"
Marie bit her lip, her thoughts racing. But I think we should follow the map, see where it leads us.
It could be the key to unraveling this mystery." She turned to Matthieu, her eyes filled with determination. "We can't just ignore this, Matthieu. We have to see this through."
Matthieu's gaze softened, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek. "You're right, Marie. We can't ignore this. But we also can't be reckless. We need to be careful, to plan, to make sure we're not walking into a trap."
Marie nodded, her heart swelling with gratitude and love for this man who understood her, who supported her, who wanted to keep her safe. "I know.
I appreciate your caution, Matthieu," Marie said softly, her voice filled with gratitude. She leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his.
"We shouldn't do anything rash. Let's take this map and study it thoroughly. Maybe we can find some clues here at the museum or at the library," she suggested, her mind already racing with possibilities.
Matthieu nodded in agreement. "That's a good idea. We should also be discreet. I don't want to tip off whoever is behind this that we're onto something."
He turned to the map, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"We should definitely study this further.
I have a feeling the university library will have more resources to help us decipher this." He looked at her, his eyes reflecting the dim light of the exhibit hall. "What do you think? Want to come with me on Monday when it opens?"
Marie smiled, her heart fluttering at his invitation. "I'd love that.
I've always wanted to explore the university library, and this is the perfect excuse."
Matthieu grinned, taking her hand in his. "Great. It's a date then. But for now, how about we get out of here? We've had enough mystery for one night. I know a little seaside restaurant not far from here. They make the best moules-frites in Normandy."
Marie's stomach rumbled at the mention of food. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until now.
The thought of hot, buttery mussels and crispy fries made her mouth water. "That sounds perfect. Let's get out of here. I'm starving," she said, her stomach grumbling in agreement.
Matthieu chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I see that. Lead the way, my lady." He gestured towards the exit with a sweep of his hand, a playful smile playing on his lips.
Marie grinned, taking his hand as they made their way back through the museum. The halls seemed longer, the exhibits more eerie in the dim light. She quickened her pace, eager to escape the creepy atmosphere.
As they exited the museum, Marie let out a sigh of relief, the cool night air feeling fresher and safer than the stuffiness inside. Matthieu glanced at her, a hint of concern in his eyes.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice gentle.
Marie nodded. "Just glad to be out of there. It felt... off, you know?"
Matthieu squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Let's forget about the museum for now.
The night is still young, and I want to enjoy it with you," Matthieu said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down Marie's spine.
They walked in comfortable silence, their hands entwined, towards the car park. The beach was deserted now, save for a few brave souls who had set up campfires to ward off the chill. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was a soothing symphony, the salty air a gentle caress on their skin.
As they reached the car, Matthieu opened the passenger door for Marie, his eyes never leaving hers. "Thank you," she murmured, sliding into the plush leather seat.
Matthieu closed the door and walked around to the driver's side, the crunch of gravel under his feet the only sound in the otherwise silent night. He started the car, the purr of the engine a welcome sound in the quiet atmosphere.
Marie looked out the window, the seaside restaurant coming into view within moments. Matthieu pulled into a spot just outside, the scent of saltwater and bread wafting through the air as they stepped out of the car. The restaurant was nestled in a cozy, picturesque building, its wooden sign swinging gently in the night breeze. A warm glow emanated from within, casting long shadows on the cobblestone path leading up to the entrance.
Matthieu held out his hand, a charming smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Shall we, mademoiselle?" Marie took his hand, a smile spreading across her face as she felt a warmth spread through her at his touch. They walked up the path, the crunch of gravel beneath their feet a comforting sound.
The salty ocean air mixed with the aroma of butter, garlic, and wine, making Marie's mouth water even more. The door to the restaurant swung open as they approached, revealing a warm, inviting interior with low lighting, wooden tables, and a crackling fireplace. A friendly server greeted them and led them to a cozy booth in the corner, away from the main dining area.
As they slid into the booth, Marie couldn't help but notice the way Matthieu's hand brushed against hers, sending a spark of electricity through her. She looked up at him, her heart fluttering as their eyes met. He smiled, his gaze soft and inviting.
The waiter offered a bottle of house wine which Matthieu accepted after tasting. Marie let him order, trusting he knew what was good. "Le menu, s'il vous plaît. Les huitres et les moules-frites. Merci." The waiter nodded, his eyes lingering on Marie for just a moment before he turned and walked away.
Marie felt a blush creeping up her cheeks at the server's undisguised appreciation. She turned to Matthieu, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "It seems you have quite the effect on people, Matthieu."
Matthieu chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I think it's more you they're interested in."
Marie shook her head, her long, dark lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. "I doubt that."
Matthieu reached across the table, his large hand covering hers.
"You're the one who's captured my attention, Marie. And not just because you're beautiful—which you are—but because you're smart, passionate, and you have this... je ne sais quoi. Something about you draws me in like a moth to a flame." His voice was low, his gaze intense, and Marie felt her heart pounding in her chest.
She held his gaze for a moment before looking down at their entwined hands. "You have a way with words, Matthieu," she said softly, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
She looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the warm glow of the candlelight on their table. "I feel the same way.
Matthieu's thumb gently caressed the back of her hand, his gaze never leaving hers. And I have a feeling that this connection between us—it's only just beginning."
Marie felt a flutter in her stomach at his words, a mix of excitement and anticipation.
She knew she was falling for him, and the idea of exploring that connection further sent a thrill through her. But she also knew that they needed to take things slow, to build upon that foundation before giving in to the passion that sizzled between them.
"I have a feeling you're right," she said, her voice soft and steady. "I want this to be different, Matthieu. I don't want to rush into anything. I want to take our time, to really get to know each other.
To explore what this connection between us is all about."
Just as she finished speaking, the waiter arrived with a chilled plate of raw oysters, ready to be shucked.
Matthieu expertly opened the first oyster, offering it to Marie with a hint of a smile. She accepted it gracefully, tilting her head back to let the succulent morsel slide down her throat. The taste of the ocean exploded in her mouth, and she couldn't help but let out a small moan of pleasure.
Matthieu's eyes darkened at the sound, his gaze lingering on her lips as he prepared the next oyster. "You have a way of making even the simplest things sound... sensual," he murmured, his voice low and inviting.
Marie felt a blush creep up her cheeks as she accepted the next oyster.
"Well, you know what they say about oysters being an aphrodisiac," she joked, her voice light and playful as she tried to diffuse the tension in the air. Matthieu's eyes crinkled at the corners, a smile playing on his lips. "Is that so?
Then perhaps we should polish off a few more to get the desired effect," Matthieu suggested, his voice laced with a playful innuendo.
Marie laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I think that might be a little too much, even for us," she replied, her cheeks still flushed from the last oyster.
Matthieu shrugged, a boyish grin spreading across his face. "You never know until you try." He popped another oyster into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he poured more wine for each of them. Just as he finished, the waiter reappeared, balancing two steaming plates laden with the day's catch—plump mussels and crisp fries. The aroma wafted through the air, making Marie's stomach rumble with anticipation. Matthieu's eyes flicked up, meeting hers, a playful smirk playing on his lips. "Looks like our little aphrodisiac experiment might not be necessary after all," he teased, gesturing towards the mouthwatering feast. Marie laughed, her cheeks still flushed from their earlier banter. "I think you're right," she agreed, picking up her fork and plucking out the first mussel from it's shell. The seafood was divine, a perfect blend of garlic, butter, and white wine that made her close her eyes and savor the flavor. She picked up the empty shell and used it to handily scoop into the next shell and grasp the flesh inside, plucking it out and popping it into her mouth. As she did, she noticed Matthieu watching her intently, his eyes reflecting the candlelight.
"What?" she asked playfully, her lips still curved in a smile from the delight of the meal.
Matthieu raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "You're enjoying that more than you let on."
Marie laughed, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. "Well, I suppose I am," she admitted, taking another shell and repeating the process.
Matthieu leaned back in his seat, his gaze never leaving her as she ate.
When the waiter finally came to let them choose their dessert, a choice between a plate of cheese and fruit and a petite tarte au chocolat, and offer a digestive, Matthieu accepted, asking for "les deux" and "le calvados."
Marie looked at him, amused, and shook her head, "You're going to make me more fat, Matthieu..."
He waved his hand dismissively. "
Nonsense, you're perfect just the way you are. Besides, a little extra cushion never hurt anyone."
Marie rolled her eyes playfully, but she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"
Matthieu grinned, a twinkle in his eye. "Perhaps. But I'm your ridiculous, and that's all that matters."
The waiter returned with their desserts and the calvados, setting them down on the table with a flourish.
The tarte au chocolat looked decadent, the dark chocolate glinting under the candlelight, and the plate of cheese and fruit was an artful arrangement of ripe pears, grapes, and wedges of brie and camembert.
Matthieu poured them each a glass of the golden apple brandy, the amber liquid catching the light as it swirled in their glasses. He raised his glass to Marie, a soft smile on his lips. "To new discoveries and old pleasures," he toasted.
Marie clinked her glass against his, a warm glow spreading through her at his words.
She took a sip of the calvados, the smooth, warm liquid coating her throat with a delicious, apple-kissed burn. "Mmm, that's lovely," she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed in appreciation.
Matthieu watched her, his gaze soft and inviting. "I'm glad you like it. Here's to many more discoveries together," he added, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down Marie's spine.
They turned their attention to the desserts, each taking a bite of the tarte au chocolat and the cheese and fruit plate.
The rich, dark chocolate of the tart melted in Marie's mouth, while the ripe pears and the creamy brie and camembert were a delightful contrast.
"This is heavenly," Marie murmured, her eyes closed in bliss as she savored the combination of flavors.
Matthieu smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm glad you're enjoying it. I can't get enough of this tart. The chocolate is so rich and velvety."
They ate in comfortable silence, enjoying the flavors and the warmth of the restaurant. As they finished their desserts, Marie felt a sense of contentment wash over her.
The warmth of the restaurant, the delicious food, and the comfort of Matthieu's presence all combined to create a perfect moment. She looked up at Matthieu, her eyes reflecting the soft candlelight.
"Thank you for tonight, Matthieu. It's been... wonderful." Her voice was soft, filled with genuine gratitude and affection.
Matthieu smiled, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I have to admit, I've had a great time as well.
But now, I'm afraid we must return to reality – or at least to Caen," Matthieu said, signaling the waiter for the check. Marie nodded, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she leaned back in her seat. "You're right, it's been a magical evening, but it's time to head back." They settled the bill, and Matthieu helped Marie into her coat, his hands lingering for a moment longer than necessary. She shivered slightly, not from the cold, but from his touch. The drive back to Caen was quiet, the windows fogging up as they breathed out warm air into the chilly night. Matthieu turned on the heater, the air blowing gently from the vents. They listened to the classical music playing softly on the radio, the violins and cellos creating a soothing atmosphere.
As they entered the downtown, Matthieu shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat.
"Have you ever had Quarante-quatre?" He asked.
"Forty-four?" She asked, confused. "Not the number, the drink," Matthieu clarified with a chuckle. "It's a classic Normandy cocktail made with Calvados. You put it in a large decanter with a whole orange, a whole pear, two vanilla beans, and 44 coffee beans and 44 cubes of sugar... then you put it on a shelf for 44 days...although my grand-mère insists it should be 144 days.
She swears the drink tastes better if you give it time to age properly." Marie's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wow, that sounds like a labor of love. I've never heard of that before." Matthieu nodded, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he neared downtown. "I've got my own bottle of Quarante-quatre at home. Would you like to try some?" He glanced at Marie, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the dashboard lights.
Marie's eyes widened in surprise and then sparkled with intrigue. "Really? I'd love that. I've never tasted anything like it."
Matthieu smiled, his gaze shifting back to the road. "Great, it's a deal. I'll pour us a couple of glasses and we can talk more about your theory."
Marie felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect of seeing Matthieu's home, of sharing a drink with him, and of exploring their budding connection further. "I'd like that," she said, her voice soft yet steady.