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The funfair had been Hanji’s idea.
“Come on Erwin, it’s one of those traditional carnivals, with fancy carousels and a helter-skelter and candy floss and all that old timey shit. It’ll be fun. Y’know fun? That thing that normal people do at weekends?”
They were almost bouncing with excitement as they perched on the edge of Erwin’s desk.
“I know how to have fun,” Erwin pouted, “and since when have you been normal?”
“Beside the point,” Hanji waved their hands dismissively, almost knocking over a pile of books teetering precariously on the edge of the desk. “What did you do last weekend?”
“I was busy last weekend,” Erwin replied, a little defensively. “I had to finish that paper for...”
“Exactly!” Hanji interrupted, jabbing him hard in the centre of his chest. “I rest my case! Mob and I will pick you up in the morning. See you then!”
Erwin sighed heavily; he knew when he’d been defeated.
Despite their chaotic nature, Hanji was punctual to a fault and turned up on Erwin’s doorstep with Moblit at nine o’clock on Saturday morning, jamming their finger on the doorbell until Erwin stumbled out of bed and let them in.
“God dammit Hanji, you’re going to wake the whole block.” Erwin grumbled irritably, still half asleep.
“Come on lazy bones,” they grinned, pushing past Erwin into the kitchen. “Get your ass in gear, Moblit’s promised to win a goldfish for me!”
Moblit smiled apologetically and pressed a tall latte into Erwin’s hands. Sometimes words could not express Erwin’s gratitude for the man.
By the time Erwin had washed and dressed and Hanji and Moblit had siphoned several rounds of coffee into him, it was late morning before they left. The fairground had pitched up in a disused airfield an hour’s drive out of town and when they arrived, early in the afternoon, the site was already crowded with day-trippers, groups of boisterous teens, and families with hyperactive kids in tow. Hanji was almost vibrating with excitement even before they made their way through the gate.
As a boy, Erwin had loved funfairs and he cherished memories of his father taking him to the carny when it rolled around once a year. He could still remember the vivid excitement, the exotic sounds and smells, the brightness of the lights, the sweet taste of cotton candy and toffee apples. But as an adult, he found the experience profoundly unsettling. Something about the gaudy impermanence, the transience, the unreality of it all made him feel oddly wistful and out of kilter.
Erwin had always been something of a loner but he had made his peace with that a long time ago. He never regretted his decision to devote himself to his academic career rather than to his fiancé. Not really. He had his research, his students, he had friends, Hanji and Moblit, Mike and Nanaba, though admittedly they were on the other side of the country now and he was lucky if he saw them even once a year. Erwin had learned to enjoy his own company; he was content to be alone. Yet somehow, as he was swept along by the jostling carnival crowd, with music blaring, kids squealing, and Hanji yelling excitedly in his ear, somehow for the first time in a long time, Erwin felt lonely. Lonely but strangely alive. There was something about the grit and sweat beneath the brash garish exterior of the carnival that made his blood race.
They rode the carousel with the magnificent painted horses and candy-striped poles first. Hanji rolled her eyes when Erwin chose a horse with the name Maria painted on the side in elaborate gilded lettering. Next came the bright red ferris wheel, a rickety mechanical contraption that reminded Erwin of a Meccano set he had as a boy. The wheel clanked and scraped and the cars swung and rattled alarmingly but the view from the top was breath taking, with the fairground laid out below them in a sea of colour. Erwin drew the line at the helter-skelter on the grounds that a man of his size would look ridiculous coming down a slide, and the Mighty Mouse roller coaster because it appeared to be bolted together from fire kindling. Hanji and Moblit had no such qualms; they rode the rollercoaster fearlessly and came off giddy and giggling. They stopped for hotdogs, cotton candy and plastic cups of weak overpriced beer before making their way to the shooting gallery where Moblit made good his promise to win Hanji a goldfish. Hanji promptly handed the plastic bag containing the anemic looking fish to Erwin, with strict instructions to look after it, and then they were off again.
“Ooh look!” Hanji yelped excitedly, dragging them towards a large cylindrical structure at the back of the field, which looked like a cross between an overgrown carousel and a small circus tent. Above the red and yellow tented roof arched a gaudy sign with the words Motordrome Wall of Death illuminated in bright lights. Outside, a tall lanky man with a long black coat, a battered fedora and a voice like gravel was yelling into a megaphone.
“Roll up, roll up for the one and only original Motordrome Wall of Death! A once in a lifetime experience! No tricks, no gimmicks, no safety nets. Come and see our death-defying riders! Experience the chills, thrills and spills of the Wall of Death. Roll up, roll up!”
Behind him, a small girl with red pig tails and huge green eyes stood balancing on the handlebars of a motorbike with one leg extended over her head, while a tall fair youth dressed in black leather revved a vintage bike beside her.
“Come on!” Hanji exclaimed, bounding towards the ticket booth in front of the motordrome, “I’ve always wanted to see one of these! There’s not many of them left these days and this one looks like the real deal.”
They paid their money to a short blonde man with a strangely wizened face, and made their way up the metal steps to the top of the motordrome. Under the canvas roof, the gangway around the circular enclosure was already crowded with excited punters laughing and talking loudly over blaring rock music, which Erwin was slightly mortified to recognise as Silvermachine. The whole arena smelled of sweat and oil and gasoline overlaid by the sweetness of popcorn and cotton candy. They shouldered their way through the crowd until they reached the barrier and Erwin looked down into motordrome. The Wall of Death was maybe thirty feet across and twenty feet high, a sheer cylindrical drum of wooden planks with a camber at the bottom. The floor of the cylinder was painted to resemble a roulette wheel and a white band with a red stripe beneath ran around the top of the wall, just below the rail. Erwin was alarmed to see that the whitewash was marked with tire tracks just inches from the edge.
“Surely they don’t reach this high do they?” Erwin asked in horror. Hanji just grinned and shrugged their shoulders.
In the bottom of the drum three immaculate vintage bikes with intricate custom paint jobs were propped up on stands alongside something that looked like a souped-up go-kart.
“Oh!” Erwin said, pointing at a dark green bike with a crest of blue and white wings painted on the tank, “that’s an Indian Scout 101 I think, my dad used to renovate those.”
The volume of the music cranked up as the track switched to Ace of Spades, a hatch opened near the base of the cylinder, and the tall MC entered followed by the red haired girl, the fair youth and a third smaller, dark haired man.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” the MC bellowed, as the music died away. “Prepare to be astounded….”
Erwin wasn’t listening; his attention was entirely captivated by the dark haired man. He was small, but lithe and muscular, dressed in black leather pants and vest with a white t-shirt beneath, which revealed intricate tattoos that traced down both arms. Erwin couldn’t quite make out the design of the tattoos from his vantage point high above the ring, but they appeared to be feathers or wings. The man swung his leg over the low slung saddle of the Scout and sat back as the MC rattled through his spiel, whipping the already excitable crowd into a frenzy of cheering and hollering.
The fair boy was first up in the kart, he began circling the camber slowly, picking up speed, until the vehicle started to climb the walls of the cylinder. Over the roar of the engine Hanji was yelling something about velocity, friction and centrifugal force.
Erwin had a vague grasp of the physics, but it was still surreal to see the laws of gravity so obviously and casually flouted right before his eyes, and he had the odd sensation that his brain couldn’t quite process what his eyes were seeing.
The girl rode next, on a vintage Honda sporting a custom paintjob of white magnolia flowers that blossomed over the tank. As she started to climb the walls of the cylinder, she kicked one leg over the bike so she was riding sidesaddle, switching from side to side as she picked up speed, and at one point rode several circuits crouched precariously on the top of the saddle. As she neared the top of the drum, Erwin noticed that some of the audience were holding folded dollar bills over the edge of the barrier and the girl swooped up and down the wall in graceful parabolic arcs, snatching the bills as she reached the top. By the time she descended to the bottom of the wall, cut her engine and leapt off the bike with a summersault, the crowd were cheering and whistling wildly.
“And now ladies and gentlemen,” the MC announced, “the moment you’ve been waiting for, put your hands together please for Humanity’s Strongest, the fearless, flying, death defying Levi Ackerman!”
The small man kicked the Indian Scout into life and the distinctive roar of the engine was so familiar, so instantly evocative, that it almost knocked Erwin sideways.
He rode much faster than the other two, tearing round the camber to pick up momentum and mounting the wall at such incredible speed that it only took him half a dozen circuits to reach the whitewash at the very top of the wall. The roar of the engine was deafening and Erwin’s knuckles were white against the rail as the man passed right below him in a blur of motion, so close that he could feel the heat of the engine, see the sweat that slicked off the man’s brow in glistening droplets. The planks of the motordrome were vibrating from the tremendous force of the wheels as the bike thundered round the ring. Faster and faster he accelerated, gunning the bike for all it was worth and, just when Erwin was sure the engine couldn't possibly take any more, he stood up in the saddle, placed one foot on the handlebars, and spread his arms wide, the feathers tattooed on his arms rippling like wings. He made it appear so easy, so effortless, that for all the world it looked like he was flying.
“How…?” Erwin started, turning to Hanji, but for once they were silent, mouth hanging open, eyes blown wide in disbelief.
The final stunt involved all three riders mounting the wall simultaneously, riding round the ring in formation, weaving in and out of each other and switching position. They passed so close and with such precision that Erwin’s heart was in his mouth as he watched.
And then it was over, the three riders took their bows to thunderous applause, the rock music started up again, blaring out Black Dog as the crowd made their way down the steps of the arena laughing and chattering excitedly.
Erwin was still too stunned to speak when they reached the bottom of the steps, so when Hanji insisted on dragging them around the back of the motordrome to look at the display of vintage bikes, he made no objection.
Hanji, to Erwin’s surprise, appeared to know rather a lot about vintage motor bikes and was soon engrossed in pointing out this or that rare model to Moblit. Erwin wandered along the row of immaculate shining machines until he came to a truck parked up behind the motordrome. There at the back of the truck stood the green Indian Scout with the small dark haired man crouched in front of it examining the chain.
Erwin stopped dead in his tracks. Up close he could see that the design of the winged crest on the bike’s tank matched the intricate feathers tattooed on the man’s arms. He was still dressed in the leather pants he’d been wearing in the ring, but he’d removed the vest, and something about the way his white t-shirt stretched across his muscular shoulders made Erwin’s breath catch in his throat.
“Excuse me?” he said, approaching the man.
“Yeah?” he replied without turning around.
“Sorry to bother you, but is that a 1928 Scout?”
“30,” the man said, still with his back to Erwin, “but it’s customized, easy mistake to make.”
His voice was low, much lower than Erwin expected and his accent had a distinctive twang, similar to the MC, but softer and less pronounced. The effect sent an unfamiliar warmth spreading through Erwin’s chest.
“You ride?” the man asked, and as he turned around to look up at Erwin, his slate grey eyes raked slowly up over his body, widening slightly as they settled on his face.
“Sorry….what?” Erwin stammered.
“Do. You. Ride?” he repeated slowly, narrow brows quirking upwards in obvious amusement.
“Me? No,” Erwin shook his head and tried not to notice the way the man’s sinfully tight leather pants hugged the sweet curve of his ass. “My father used to recondition bikes years ago. He didn’t often ride them, he just loved taking them apart and rebuilding them.”
“What a waste,” the man drawled, eyes flicking up and down over Erwin’s body again, causing his face to flush. “What’s ya name blondie?” he asked, standing up and turning around to face Erwin. He was much, much smaller than he appeared in the ring, a whole head shorter than Erwin, but there was such contained power in his presence, such coiled aggression, that it sent a bolt of heat straight down Erwin’s spine.
“Erwin.” Erwin replied, extending his hand. “Erwin Smith.”
The man looked at Erwin for a moment, sizing him up, before seizing his hand. His hand was tiny, almost engulfed by Erwin’s own, but his grip was so strong that it almost made Erwin wince.
“Pleased ta meet you Erwin Erwin Smith. Levi Ackerman.”
“So I heard,” Erwin replied, suddenly bold. “Humanity’s Strongest.”
Levi rolled his eyes and snorted.
“That’s just Kenny’s bullshit. All part of the act.”
“I don’t know about that…” Erwin made a show of shaking out his hand and flexing his fingers ruefully.
Levi huffed out a short laugh.
“Aint ya going to introduce me to your date?”
“Sorry, my what?” Erwin asked utterly bemused.
“Your date.” Levi nodded towards the goldfish in the plastic bag that Erwin had forgotten he was still holding.
“What? This? Oh, this isn’t mine it’s…” Erwin stopped and shook his head, laughing as Levi smirked up at him.
“Well Erwin Erwin Smith, much as I’d love ta shoot the breeze all day, I’ve got another show coming up and I need to check this chain over sooo, been nice meeting ya.”
“Yes, you too Levi, thank you for the show.”
“Anytime blondie,” Levi replied, turning his attention back to his bike.
As Erwin walked away he found that his knees were shaking and his heart was pounding fit to burst. He bumped into Moblit waiting alone near the ticket booth at the front of the motordrome holding a large balloon in the shape of a unicorn. He shrugged when Erwin raised his eyebrows at the gaudy balloon.
“Hey Erwin,” he said, “Hanji found a freak show and they’ve already made friends with the bearded lady, want to come and meet her?”
“You go ahead,” Erwin replied, handing the goldfish to Moblit. “Could you hold onto this please? Think I’ll catch another show here.”
Inside the motordrome Erwin made his way through the crowd to the edge of the ring and waited for Levi’s turn to ride. As he kicked the Scout into gear and mounted the wall, Erwin leaned casually against the barrier, a folded slip of paper with his phone number written on it held discretely between his fingers. His heart was in his mouth as Levi’s bike roared up the wall, he made three circuits of motordrome and Erwin’s hope was turning to ashes, when he reached out and snatched the paper, rough fingers brushing momentarily against Erwin’s as he passed.
Erwin smiled as he left the motordrome, the roar of the Indian Scout reverberating in his ears.
The year passed, slipping by in the routine chaos of term time, exams and marking. The day out at the funfair faded to a distant memory, but still Erwin’s dreams were shot through with the distinctive roar of the Indian Scout, the smell of oil and gasoline, slate grey eyes, and ink dark feathers that unfurled like wings.
Twelve months later, Erwin was sitting at his desk staring despondently at a pile of un-read committee papers when his phone flashed up a message from an unknown number.
hey blondie back in town wanna ride?
Erwin had been watching the clock all day. It was always like this. He didn’t really have to be in the university that day, he could easily have worked from home, but he knew from experience that he’d just end up prowling round the house impatiently. At least here, he had other people to distract him.
At five o’clock on the dot Erwin was out the door, brushing off a colleague who tried to stop him in the corridor to discuss his latest research. He dropped by the smart little delicatessen to pick up some gunpowder tea, and the florists for fresh flowers, then hurried straight home to see that everything was in order. The whole house had been cleaned from top to bottom the previous day but Erwin went round it all again, running a duster over every surface, straightening the cushions on the couch, changing the sheets on the bed. Once everything was arranged to his satisfaction he placed the fresh flowers in a vase on the table beside the fish tank.
“Hey Scout, suppertime,” he said, as the large shining goldfish swam leisurely to the surface to nibble at the fish food he sprinkled into the tank.
Before going to bed, Erwin showered and shaved carefully, then he slid naked into the freshly laundered sheets and, feeling distinctly like a kid on Christmas Eve, turned out the light.
Erwin startled awake, blinking blearily into the darkness, unsure for a moment what had wakened him. The bed, their bed, dipped beside him, cold lips found his cheek and Erwin’s heart leapt as his senses were flooded by the familiar scent of soap and engine oil.
“Hey blondie,” a low familiar voice curled in his ear.
“Levi…” Erwin mumbled, groping blindly for the bedside lamp and flicking on the switch.
Levi was sitting on the edge of their bed, he’d already taken off his boots and jacket, but was still wearing his leather pants and the old hoodie he wore when travelling. He looked tired, with heavy shadows under his red-rimmed eyes, but he was smiling.
“Hey,” Erwin replied, turning over and wrapping one arm around Levi’s waist to pull him nearer. “What time is it? Wasn’t expecting you home till morning.”
“Just gone four,” Levi replied, running one hand over Erwin’s shoulder. His palm was rough and cold and Erwin shivered. “Kenny was driving the rig, so I took Izzy’n Farlan in the van an’ drove straight through.”
“Levi,” Erwin chided, voice still thick with sleep, “you shouldn’t drive at night when you’re tired, that’s how accidents happen.”
“God you’re such an old man.” Levi grinned, running his fingers through Erwin’s hair, “y’came to bed with your hair wet didn’t ya? Idiot. You’ll catch a cold.”
“Who’s the old man now?” Erwin replied, pulling Levi down to kiss him sleepily. “Your hands are cold.” He shivered again as Levi’s freezing palms slid down over his shoulders.
“Gonna warm them up for me?” Levi breathed against his lips, already tugging at the sheets and trailing icy fingers down over Erwin’s chest. “Fuck I’ve missed ya.”
Levi was always like this when he came home at the end of the season; starved of touch and almost as desperate for contact as Erwin himself.
“I know baby,” Erwin murmured, fumbling at the zip of Levi’s hoodie with uncoordinated fingers. “Sorry, still half asleep.”
“S’fine,” Levi slurred, mouthing at his throat, “it’s good, y’don’t need to waken up.”
Erwin hummed and lay back as Levi shrugged out of his hoodie and pulled the sheets away. Without further ceremony he climbed onto the bed, straddling Erwin and bringing his full weight down on top of him. Erwin groaned, already half hard, and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer.
“You feel so good Levi.”
The leather of Levi’s pants was smooth and cool against the heat of his thighs and Erwin slid his hands down to grip Levi’s ass, pulling him in as he ground his hips up against him. Levi’s hands, his lips were everywhere, so hungry, so desperate, that sometimes Erwin thought Levi would consume him, and yet he always gave himself willingly, eager to be devoured.
Erwin groaned, low and rough, as Levi shifted his weight and brought one knee up between his legs, pressing his thigh hard against his cock, which left a smear of pre cum glistening on the leather.
“So warm,” Levi mouthed against his stomach as he worked his way south, planting a line kisses in the dark blonde hair that trailed down to Erwin’s hard, wet cock.
Erwin held his breath. One kiss was all the warning he got. The lightest touch of cool rough lips, a quick tongue lapping at the tip of his cock and then Levi swallowed him whole. Erwin moaned, hips bucking up off the bed despite Levi’s not inconsiderable weight pressing down on his thighs. Another swallow and Erwin was gone; all he could do was cling onto Levi’s shoulders and ride it out.
The first time Levi had taken him like this, Erwin had been afraid he’d choke, but Levi had just licked his lips and laughed, said the sword swallower had taught him a trick or two. To this day, Erwin had no idea if that was true, but wherever Levi had learned his tricks, he was certainly talented. Again and again he swallowed, the hot slick heat of his throat closing around Erwin’s cock as his tongue flickered up and down its length. Levi took no quarter, never letting up, pushing him on relentlessly, his clever tongue circling the head of his cock in teasing patterns. Erwin held on as best he could, but after months alone, and a week of abstinence and anticipation, it didn’t take long. He came with a shout, Levi swallowing hard and humming appreciatively around his cock.
Erwin barely had time to catch his breath before Levi was nudging at his hip, turning him over onto his side and curling in close behind him. The cold metal of Levi’s belt buckle dragged against Erwin’s ass as Levi shimmied out of his leather pants, pushing them down over his thighs, not even bothering to kick them off. Fumbling in the drawer beside the bed, Erwin passed a bottle of lube back to Levi, shifting one leg to allow him to smear a generous amount between his thighs.
“Tight,” Levi growled against his back, the heat of his breath fanning over Erwin’s skin.
Erwin pressed his thighs together as Levi’s cock slid between them, hot and hard. Flexing his quads to increase the pressure, Levi groaned, sending reverberations up Erwin’s spine. He wedged one hand between his thighs, fingertips caressing the tip of Levi’s cock as he thrust against him, sliding deliciously against his slick skin. Levi fucked him hard and fast and Erwin knew from experience that the back of his thighs would be bruised for days from the sharp jut of Levi’s hipbones. And the harder he fucked, the more Erwin increased the pressure, until Levi came with a long low moan, muttering incoherent oaths and endearments into the valley of Erwin’s spine.
Afterwards they lay quietly, Erwin’s thighs sticky with the cooling heat of Levi’s cum, Levi with his leathers still crumpled around his knees. Later, Erwin knew, Levi would take his time, easing him open with strong nimble fingers, fucking him long and slow with an intensity that still shook him to the core. Then, once Levi had burned off all the restless energy of the road, Erwin would pick him apart piece by piece by piece, until he’d be pleading desperately, begging for Erwin to fuck him, to hold him, to never let go.
It had always been like this, the shattering intensity had been there right from the first time they’d fucked in the back of the trailer, among the racks of bikes and the smell of sawdust and gasoline. As Erwin clung onto the ratchet straps, Levi had broken him open in ways he hadn’t thought possible. Every certainty in Erwin’s life splintered under him in that blinding moment. Then Levi had turned him around and sucked him off so sweetly that Erwin had wanted to cry, and he couldn’t swear he hadn’t. Afterwards Levi just held him. Held him and held him and held him, and though he never spoke, never said a word, his silence spoke volumes and Erwin knew that he had never held anyone like this in his life before.
“I’ll come back,” Levi had said at last. “I’ll come back. I promise.”
And he had. Sporadically at first. Erwin would get a text out of the blue when the carnival was near by or they’d laid off for a week. And then he’d be on tenterhooks until he heard the familiar roar of Levi’s TL1000R road bike pulling up outside his house. Erwin never knew how long he’d stay, sometimes a day, sometimes a couple, a week if he was lucky, and then he’d disappear again, leaving Erwin bereft, with the faint lingering smell of engine oil on his fingers.
But as the months passed into years, Levi came back more frequently, frequently became regularly, and eventually Erwin’s house became Levi’s home. Erwin built a shed out back for his bikes, took his father’s tools out of storage, and when Levi was on the road, he passed the time reconditioning what ever heap of junk he or Izzy or Farlan had pitched up with the last time they rolled into town.
A lot of years had flown since that first time, but the intensity remained, and as Erwin lay still, with Levi curled warm behind his back and their legs tangled together, not for the first time, he said a silent prayer of thanks to Hanji Zoe for dragging him to the carnival all those years ago.
In the shower, later that morning, Erwin ran his hands lightly over the fading yellow bruises that painted one side of Levi’s body from shoulder to thigh. Levi sighed and winced, leaning into Erwin’s hands.
“Came off the wall?”
Erwin made no attempt to keep the concern from his voice. Levi nodded, eyes closed, tilting his head back to let the warm water run over his face.
“Yeah, couple a weeks ago.”
“What happened?”
Erwin’s hands moved to trace gently over the scabbed graze that covered Levi’s shoulder and upper arm, obscuring the wings of freedom.
“Tires were cold. Plank was loose. Shit happens.”
Shit did indeed happen. Levi was the best, but even the best are only human and accidents do happen. Levi had come off the wall several times in the years that Erwin had known him. Usually he only found out after the fact, when Levi came home at the end of the season with a new crop of scars and bruises for Erwin to trace his fingers over. But he would never forget being woken in the small hours of the night by Isabel, sobbing and hysterical on the other end of the phone. He’d never forget driving through the night to upstate nowheresville to find Levi unconscious in hospital with severe concussion, a shattered collarbone and several broken ribs. Years later, Erwin still had nightmares about the phone ringing in the middle of the night, of driving endlessly through the dark, of never arriving, of arriving too late. He never told Levi, and if Levi knew, he never said anything. But despite the danger, despite the way Erwin’s heart broke just a little bit every time Levi left, despite the loneliness when he was out on tour and Erwin was left rattling around the house with only the goldfish for company, Erwin never once asked him to stop. To clip Levi’s wings would be unthinkable.
In the steaming heat of the shower, Levi groaned appreciatively as Erwin massaged the taut muscles at the base of his neck.
“I’m getting too old for this shit,” he sighed, leaning forward to rest his head against Erwin’s chest. The water plastered his hair to his forehead, dark strands sticking to Erwin’s skin.
“Is that so?” Erwin hummed, fingers still working at the back of Levi’s neck.
“Yeah, Kenny’s talking about jacking it in, Uri’s not been so well this year, rheumatism’s fucking him up badly. Think they want to call it a day. They want me to take over the business end a things, an all that shit. Izzy an Farlan have a couple a kids they’ve been training up. They’re not complete fuck wits. Might leave the riding to them.”
“Well,” Erwin smoothed the wet hair off Levi’s brow, “you know I wouldn’t object if you wanted to retire.”
“Retire?” Levi tipped his head back to look up at him, dark lashes spiked with water. “Who the hell said anything bout retiring? What the fuck would I do if I retired?”
“Oh,” Erwin began innocently, sliding his hands down Levi’s back to the smooth curve of his ass. “I’m sure I could think of something to keep you out of trouble.”
“Fucking incorrigible.”
“Guilty as charged,” Erwin smiled as he dropped to his knees.