"Are you sure this is a good idea, B?" Berkeley asked, turning to her sister. It was Friday evening, and she was sitting in the passenger seat of Blair's car, with a box of black and white cookies in her lap. They'd been in Bubbe's driveway for five minutes, as Blair tried to convince her sister that everything would be fine.

"Burke, it's a family dinner! You're family! What's Bubbe gonna do? Kick you out? Tell you to leave?"

Berkeley gave her sister a pointed stare. "B, it's Bubbe! Of course she would!"

Blair sighed and rolled her eyes, resting her head on the head rest. "Oh my gosh! You guys just need to get over this, already!"

"You guys?" Berkeley scoffed. "I'm over it! I was never the one upset! This is all Bubbe!"

"Wait, why's Bubbe mad at you again?" Skylar chimed in from the backseat.

"Because Aunt Burke broke things off with Uncle David, and Bubbe's not happy about that. She wanted them to get married," Brielle replied.

Blair turned around to face her two daughters in the backseat. "Girls, this is grown folks' business. Stay out of it."

"And please don't call him Uncle David!" Berkeley begged. "Especially not in front of Bubbe."

"Fine, whatever!" Brielle sighed and rolled her eyes. "But can we go in now, I'm starving!"

"Brielle Marie!" Blair snapped. "Do not disrespect your aunt young lady! And if you roll your eyes one more damn time, so help me God, I will knock them out of your skull!"

"Oooh! You're in trouble!" Skylar giggled.

"Shut up!" Brielle yelled, punching her sister's arm.

"Ow!" Skylar cried. "Mommy!"

"Brielle, do not hit your sister!" Blair scolded.

Berkeley's gaze shifted from the girls in the backseat, to Blair, who looked like she wanted to rip her hair out. She felt bad for her sister; she knew it wasn't easy being a single mom to an eight- and twelve-year-old, while going through a nasty divorce and custody battle. It was bad enough that Brielle, on the brink of being a teenager, was going through puberty and a rebellious stage. The divorce didn't help, and only exacerbated her already bratty behavior.

"Hey, girls, why do you go in ahead of us? I wanna talk to your mom." Berkeley asked, in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

"Pfffttt... You don't have to ask me twice," Brielle mumbled, unbuckling her seat belt, opening her door and hopping out of the Land Rover. Skylar did the same, and Berkeley watched as the girls walked up the driveway and let themselves into the house.  

"I am so sorry about that!" Blair said, giving her sister an apologetic look.

"Hey! No need to apologize. We were all twelve once," Berkeley said, reaching out to place a hand on her sister's shoulder.

"I know, I know," Blair sighed. "But she's been so disrespectful lately, and it's not okay." There was a pregnant pause until Blair spoke again. "I feel like she hates me."  

"B, Brielle does not hate you. She's just moody, and angsty, and all of these changes are being thrown at her all at once; She gets her first period, then all of a sudden, she starts growing boobs and hips, and boys are now taking notice. You Aaron file for separation, and then divorce, and now she's living in a new house and going to a new school. And she's in the weird space, where she's not a little kid anymore, but not quite a teenager either, and she's figuring out who she is, and what her place is in the world. It's just a lot for her right now, and she doesn't know how to process and properly deal with it all," Berkeley explained.

Blair turned to her and smiled. "You'd make an amazing mom, you know that Burke?"

"This isn't about me, this is about you," Berkeley said, ignoring Blair's comment.

"Thank you," Blair replied. "I appreciate you so much."

"If things are ever... too much, I'm here. You know that right?" Berkeley asked her.

Blair let out an exasperated sigh. "I know that. And thank you, but everything's fine."

"It's okay if it's not though," Berkeley reminded her. "If Brielle ever gives you too much trouble, she can come stay with me for a bit. I wouldn't mind having her around. I can even bring her to the office with me. Put her lil' ass to work!"

"I really appreciate that," Blair said, her voice wavering. "I just... I feel like such a bad mom!"

"B! You are not a bad mom," Berkeley said firmly. "You're just going through a lot right now!"

"It's like I don't even know my own kid anymore!" Blair sniffed, throwing her hands up in the air. "I love her, I do! With all of my heart! But she's being such a little... Bitch! And I hate saying that, but she is! I don't know how else to describe it! She's completely out of control. She's like this little monster, and I don't know how to deal with her anymore. And it doesn't help that Aaron totally spoils her. I think he does it just to spite me, so then I always look like the villain! And she chopped her hair off and dyed it fuckin' green! I hate it! I hate it so much! I'd rather her shave it bald! Arrgggh!!!"

Berkeley watched in horror as her sister banged her head against the steering wheel. "B! B!" She yelled. "Stop it! Look at me!" When she finally had her sister's attention, their eyes connected. "Breathe. Deep breaths." Blair did as she was instructed. "Listen to me; everything is going to be okay. It takes a village to raise a child, and I am your village. Mom and Dad are your village. Brax is your village. He's gone through exactly what you're going through right now. Have you talked to him about it?"

"No," Blair answered.

"And why not?"

"Because-" Blaire stammered. "I just... I'm so used to having everything together. Being on top of everything. I feel like if I were to admit that I'm drowning, that everyone will think I'm a failure. I couldn't keep my marriage from falling apart-"

"No B, you and Aaron just weren't right for each other. You said so yourself!" One of the main reasons why she was dreading tonight, and had been avoiding Bubbe, was because of situations like this. Bubbe had never been happy with the fact that their mother didn't marry a Jewish man or raise her children up in Judaism. Their grandfather wasn't Jewish, but he converted to marry their grandmother. Initially, Bubbe didn't mind that their father was a black man, after all, their grandfather was black. As long as he converted, that was all that mattered. Except Rashaad Hamilton made it clear that he would under no circumstances be converting to Judaism. And this began the decades long family rift. By the time Berkeley and her siblings came along, Bubbe's mission was to make sure that her grandchildren were as Jewish as possible. Taking them to her Orthodox synagogue on Saturdays when they spent weekends with her and their grandfather, against their parents wishes, and then swearing the kids to secrecy.

When Aviva found out that Bubbe had her children keeping secrets from her, all hell broke loose. They didn't speak for almost a year, and in that time, the kids weren't allowed to see their maternal grandparents. Berkeley didn't mind. While she did always enjoyed Shabbat dinners, Passover Seders, Channukah, and playing with the other kids at the Jewish Community Center, she didn't particularly like having to give up her Saturday mornings for Synagogue services, and then turn around and give up her Sunday mornings for church services with her parents. Being with her dad's parents was so much easier. She loved it when they'd spend a few weeks every summer in Alabama with them. Her Grandma Hattie was always so warm, nurturing and accepting of them. Whereas with Bubbe, she always felt like she couldn't meet her expectations. Like she could never be Jewish enough for her, and that her love was conditional upon how Jewish they could be. It hurt.

Blair, being the people pleaser of the siblings, and always striving for external validation and approval, was clearly Bubbe's favorite, and she made it known. Blair was her golden grandchild, and she'd do anything to stay in Bubbe's good graces- whether it was locking herself in her room to learn Hebrew or having a bat mitzvah. She'd do it all to be the perfect granddaughter. Which is how she ended up with Aaron.

During her junior year of college at Stanford, when so many of her sorority sisters had begun to get engaged, Bubbe started to worry because Blair had never had a boyfriend. So, Bubbe decided to take matters into her own hands, by enlisting the help of a Jewish matchmaking service. Before Blair knew it, one thing led to another, and the next thing she knew she was on a first date with Aaron. Bubbe loved and adored Aaron so much that when he proposed to Blair a little over a year later, right before graduation, Blair felt like she couldn't say no, even if she wasn't ready to get married. She'd tried to stretch the engagement out as long as possible. That is until Bubbe became involved in the wedding planning process, and Bubbe wasn't a fan of long engagements.

Everything had happened so fast, and Blair just went with it, because that's what Blair always did. She didn't know how to set boundaries or advocate for herself, which is why the night before the wedding, she found herself crying hysterically in Berkeley's bed, and having a panic attack.

"You don't have to do this, B!" Berkley told her.

"You don't understand!" Blair sobbed, gasping for air.

She was a mess. A total and utter wreck. She was underweight due to a combination of all the stress she was under, The Fen-Phen she was taking, and the diet she'd been on to fit into her dress. Her hair looked like a rat's nest, and her eyes were all puffy and swollen from crying, and she had dark circles under her eyes from a lack of sleep.

"I may be only eighteen, but I think I know enough to know that you cannot marry Aaron tomorrow! It'll be a total disaster and sham of a marriage! You don't love him!"

"I do love him! I care for Aaron... a lot!"

"Yes, but you're not in love with him, B. He's not your person! Get out now while you still can. Call of the wedding," Berkeley urged. "No vows have been recited!"

"But we already have our marriage certificate!" Blair sniffed. "We are married in the eyes of the law!"

"But not yet in the eyes of HaShem!" Berkeley reminded her. "Call off the wedding and get an annulment. You wouldn't be the first person or the last. Save yourself a lifetime of misery."

"But Rabbi Hadani flew all this way, and the money! So much money spent! My dress, the catering, the chuppah! The gifts! And Bubbe loves him! He's perfect; He's Jewish, in med school, comes from a good family! I'm in way too deep Burke!"

Berkeley would never forget that dreaded wedding day as long as she lived. Standing there in the synagogue as Blair's maid of honor, watching as she recited vows that she didn't mean, Berkeley had a sinking feeling in her stomach the entire time. Blair and Aaron's seventeen-year marriage was incredibly tumultuous and riddled with strife. The only times they were truly happy and got along was when the girls were born. But as Brielle and Skylar grew, so did the tension between Blair and Aaron. Their biggest fight started when Blair wanted to get Brielle baptized. Even though she'd gone through all of the motions of Judaism, she'd never quite connected to it, and she wanted her kids to grow up in the faith she grew up in- Presbyterian. This of course, would not fly with Aaron, an Orthodox Jew, nor would it fly with Bubbe. It was the first time Blair had ever truly disappointed her. His family was appalled and incredibly offended, and of course, Bubbe took his side. As time went on, they had even more disagreements, and despite trying their best to work through them, they'd finally come to the decision a year and a half ago that they just couldn't make it work, and it did more harm to the girls than good by staying together. Bubbe of course, was devastated. But at that point, Aaron was family, and she'd always consider him a grandson.

And that's why Berkeley broke up with David. She'd seen what her sister had gone through over the course of two decades, and she just couldn't do that to herself. Being with David was the first time she ever really felt true acceptance from Bubbe, like the barrier that had always existed between them had finally been broken. Bubbe had been over the moon elated when she found out that not only was David an Orthodox Jew, but that his family attended her same synagogue. When Berkeley had started dating again, she wasn't specifically looking for a Jewish man, David just happened to be Jewish. Things were great in the beginning. David was nice, kind, caring, funny, considerate, compassionate, and HOT! He was so hot! Dreamy! The most gorgeous man she'd ever been with. He checked all her boxes, they shared the same morals and values, and agreed on all of the fundamental things, except for one. As their relationship grew more serious, and they began to talk about getting engaged, David made it extremely clear that he wanted a Jewish wife, and to raise his children Jewish.

"I mean, you're already Jewish, so you wouldn't need to convert." David told her.

"Yeah, but I'm not practicing," she replied. "I wouldn't even know where to begin!"

"That's okay, the synagogue offers adult education classes," he replied.

Sitting across from him at the table, and seeing how genuinely excited he was, she realized she needed to be honest with him. He was a good man, and he deserved transparency. She knew this conversation was bound to happened, she just didn't expect it to happen at Nobu of all places. "That's not it." She took a deep breath to calm herself before saying what she was about to say. "David, I'm not Jewish."

"But you are Jewish. You're mother's Jewish, and you're grandmother's Jewish. You're a Jew. You can never not be one."

"No, I know that. I'm ethnically and culturally Jewish, and I'm proud of that! I love my heritage! But I'll never be a practicing Jew," she said apologetically. The look in his eyes broke her heart. She knew in that moment, that it was over between them.

That was six months ago, and communication with Bubbe had been very touch and go. Berkeley would often have to go through her grandfather if she wanted to relay something to her. So now, as she sat in the passenger seat of Blair's car outside of her grandparents' house, her anxiety was on ten.

"Thanks for the talk sis," Blair said, cutting through Berkeley's thoughts.

Berkeley offered her a smile. "Don't thank me. That's what sisters are for!"

"Well, I guess we better get in there," Blair said, nodding toward the house. "You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Berkeley sighed. If her sister could spend her life living to please Bubbe, resulting in a messy divorce, all the while dealing with a hormonal pre-teen, then she could surely put on her big girl breeches and put up with her melodramatic grandmother for a few hours. "Let's just hope Bubbe doesn't turn me away," she said as she got out of the car.

Walking around the car, Blair joined her on the other side. "You brought her favorite cookies, trust me, she won't turn you away!"

*~*~*~*~*

Seated comfortably behind the mixing board, JC's focused gazed fixed on the computer screen displaying the intricate soundwaves of the track he was working on for Red Velvet. His production partner, Jimmy Harry, leaned in beside him, both of them wearing identical expressions of concentration. The air is thick with the pulsating rhythm and melodic layers that fill the room.

As the track plays, JC's fingers dance across the control knobs, making subtle adjustments with a touch that only comes from years of experience. His ears are finely attuned to every nuance, every beat, and every harmony. A small nod from Jimmy confirms their unspoken synchronization.

"Sounds great," JC finally said, pausing the track. His fingers hover momentarily over the console, his mind already working on the next step. "But I feel like it's missing something."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Jimmy replied. "It needs some sort of accent, to really make the beat pop."

"Maybe we should try adding a synth in the chorus," JC suggested.

"That could work," Jimmy nodded.

JC, in his swivel chair, slid over to the sleek synthesizer that was plugged into the computer. His fingers hovered over the keys, as the track played in his mind. He heard the chorus and began to play around on the synthesizer until he came up with an uptempo stab. "Something like that."

"I love it," Jimmy replied. "I think that could really work."

"Can you play the track?" JC asked him.

"Sure thing." Jimmy rolled over in his chair, to the large computer screen, where JC had just been moments before. "Let me know when you're ready," he said, with his hand on the mouse.

"Ready," JC said. When Jimmy hit play, and the sounds of the melodic tack piano intro filled the room, followed by the aggressive kickdrum. As the first section of the track played, followed by what JC had sectioned out as the pre-chorus, he prepared to play the synth stabs with the chorus.

The rhythmic pulse of the bass sent a pulsating wave that blared from the speakers, and JC joined in, playing the keys. A chorus of electronic synths joined the mix, their crystalline tones dancing like beams of sunlight. When the chorus came to an end, JC turned to look back at Jimmy. "How'd that sound?"

Jimmy paused the track, and then slid back over to his spot. "That's just what it needed. Let's record it!" Just as Jimmy was adding a new track to the session, they were interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open.

Eric stepped into the bustling studio, his presence commanding attention amidst the sea of musical equipment. JC and Jimmy stopped what they were doing, and JC swiveled around in his chair to face Eric. "What's up?" JC asked, greeting him.

Eric settled into an empty chair, his expression a mix of professional demeanor and underlying urgency. "How's the song coming along?" he inquired, his gaze shifting between JC and Jimmy.

"Great," JC replied, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "We're moving much faster than anticipated."

"Nice, nice," Eric responded, his tone appreciative. "And you're still on for Annie Rose's listening party tomorrow night?"

"I will be there," JC nodded. "Did you need anything else?" JC asked, sensing there was an underlying reason his manager had dropped in unannounced.

"I heard back from Berkeley," Eric announced, his words direct and to the point.

JC's expression tightened with a mix of annoyance and apprehension. "Okay," he said cautiously, a sense of uncertainty creeping into the room.

"She said her offer still stands if you change your mind," Eric revealed, his voice carrying an undercurrent of expectation.

"Berkeley?" Jimmy chimed in, his brows furrowing in thought as he processed the information.

"Yeah, Rashaad Hamilton's daughter," Eric clarified, his gaze shifting between JC and Jimmy. "She's an A&R rep for Worldwide. She wants to sign JC."

The room fell momentarily silent as the weight of Eric's words settled in. Jimmy's eyes flickered with intrigue, and JC's expression remained guarded.

"You didn't tell me that," Jimmy remarked, his voice carrying a note of surprise as he looked to JC.

JC's lips pressed into a thin line as he considered a response. "Because there's nothing to tell," he finally replied, his tone measured yet firm. His comfort zone was within these studio walls, where his creativity thrived, and the prospect of stepping back into the spotlight was not something he wanted to even think about.

Eric leaned forward, trying his best to mask his frustration. "JC, this is a golden opportunity. Berkeley's connections, the exposure and backing of Worldwide- this could be your comeback!"

JC let out a deep, heavy sigh. "Man, I already told you. I don't want a comeback. I'm content with the way things are."

"I think you should at least consider it," Jimmy chimed in.

"Thank you!" Eric said appreciatively.

JC's gaze shifted from Jimmy to Eric, both men staring at him expectantly. "I don't know what else to tell you. But I've been there, done that. I have no interest in being a solo artist or making another album."

The room, once alive with musical energy, had turned incredibly tense. "Fine," Eric conceded, hanging his head. "I can't make you do anything you don't want to do. I just think that this would be an incredible opportunity."

"I understand," JC said diplomatically. "And I appreciate that you're always looking out for my best interest, but this just isn't for me man. I'm past that now."

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Brynn, you haven't touched your chicken," Bubbe remarked, her discerning gaze fixed on the untouched food before the eighteen-year-old.

"Bubbe, I'm vegan now," Brynn calmly informed her, spearing a fingerling potato with her fork and taking a bite.

"A vegan?" Bubbe's incredulous tone held a mixture of confusion and skepticism. "What the hell is a vegan?"

"It means she doesn't eat meat mom," Aviva explained. "Or any animal products. No eggs, no dairy."

"You don't eat meat!" Bubbe's appalled squawk reverberated, an exclamation that echoed around the table. "Since when do you not eat meat? I slave over a hot stove all day, and you don't eat meat?"

The night had taken a disappointing turn. At first, Berkeley held a glimmer of hope as Bubbe welcomed her with a warm embrace and accepted the cookies she brought. Yet, the warmth had swiftly evaporated once David was brought up. Bubbe's hope for a reconciliation between them had been met with a firm refusal from Berkeley, a response that had triggered a rapid decline in Bubbe's demeanor, completely souring her mood.

Sitting at the dinner table, Berkeley found herself pushing her potatoes around on her plate, her appetite vanishing under the weight of an evening fraught with guilt and unease. Bubbe's persistent admonishments had cast a dark cloud over the evening.

"And now Berkeley's not eating. You're already so skinny!" Bubbe's reprimand echoed down the table, her voice a sharp reminder of the evening's contentious undertones.

"Esther, leave the poor girl alone. You've been on her all night," her grandfather's voice intervened, a welcomed interruption that carried a note of protection.

Berkeley's gaze shifted to the opposite end of the table, meeting the reassuring eyes of her grandfather, Richard. A fleeting smile of gratitude passed between them.

"Can I have your potatoes Aunt Burke?" Skylar piped up from the opposite side of the table.

"No, dear," Bubbe's head shook disapprovingly. "You're already getting bigger."

"Bubbe!" Blair's exclamation rang out, her voice tinged with disbelief and outrage. "Do not speak to my daughter like that!"

Bubbe's surprise was palpable as she met her granddaughter's gaze, her initial retort silenced by the force of Blair's indignation. "Are you raising your voice at me?" Bubbe's question hung in the air, a tense inquiry that threatened to escalate the situation further.

"Mom!" Aviva pleaded, her voice laced with desperation.

"Esther," Richard's measured tone cut through the tension, a gentle yet firm reprimand that carried a fatherly authority.

A hushed silence descended; the room permeated with an uncomfortable stillness. Berkeley felt like she was suffocating. It was a mistake for her to come tonight. She should've just kept her distance like she'd been doing for the past six months. She should've tagged along with her father to the Sync Summit. But no, she just had to put family first and attempt to build bridges.  

"Anyone want more wine?" Braxton's voice interjected in an attempt to diffuse the tension that lingered in the dining room.

"Can I have some?" Brielle asked, with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Blair's eyes bore into her daughter, with a mix of admonishment and exasperation. "Brielle..."

"I for one, could use another glass of wine," Berkeley declared.

"Great, I'll go grab a bottle from the kitchen," Braxton volunteered, scooting his chair back from the table.

"I'll come with!" Berkeley swiftly stood up, a determined glint in her eyes. The prospect of a brief respite from the tense atmosphere was a welcome one, and she followed Braxton towards the kitchen, leaving behind the remnants of a meal marked by familial complexities.

"Oh my gosh! Can you believe that?" Berkeley hissed when they entered the kitchen. "She just fat-shamed her own great-granddaughter!"

Braxton nodded, an understanding glance exchanged. "Yeah, it was kinda hard to miss. I am so glad it is Marissa's weekend with the kids."

"Bubbe is unbelievable! If she's not nagging me about breaking up with David, then she'll find someone else to pick on about something. Skylar's only eight!" Berkeley was fuming. The night was a disaster.

"I wanna say I'm surprised, but I'm not," Braxton said, pulling out his phone to check his messages. "It's Brian," he informed Berkeley, his attention divided.

"With the way everything's going, he'd be much better off not joining us," Berkeley remarked. "I'm sure this is not what he wants to walk into after a fourteen-hour shift."

"I just filled him in on the chaos," Braxton responded, relaying Brian's plans. "He's headed to Selena's."

"Good call. His time would be much better spent with his girlfriend," Berkeley replied.

"I'm sorry Bubbe's been badgering you all night about the breakup," Braxton offered, empathy in his eyes as he put his phone away.

Berkeley waved off his concern with a dismissive gesture. "Don't worry about it. We've all had our turn enduring Bubbe's critiques. Tonight, just happened to be mine."

 "When I broke the news about the divorce, she laid on the guilt trip about Sofia and Theo growing up in a ‘broken home.' I felt like the world's worst dad."

"You're an amazing father, Brax," Berkeley reassured him sincerely.

"I know," he grinned. "I've just come to realize that nothing will ever be enough to please Bubbe."

Berkeley observed as Braxton made his way across the kitchen, his destination the wine rack. She sighed, leaning against the island. "Well, this was just the cherry on top of a shit-tastic week," she groaned, the exhaustion evident in her voice.

"At least it's the weekend," Braxton offered, his fingers skimming over the wine selections. "What are you in the mood for, red or white?"

"You know me, Brax."

"Red it is!" Braxton's enthusiasm was contagious. "What'll it be? Cabernet? Merlot? Shiraz?"

"Merlot, as usual," Berkeley replied, her fingers tapping idly on the countertop. She let out a frustrated sigh, her head coming to rest against the cool marble, providing a brief respite for her throbbing temples. "I can't even rest this weekend," she groaned.

"Why not?" Braxton inquired, retrieving wine glasses from the cabinet.

"I have to go to the Annie Rose listening party tomorrow night," Berkeley lamented, already dreading the event. All she wanted was a quiet Saturday night in, rewatching The Fellowship of the Ring.

Braxton moved across the room, balancing two wine glasses in one hand, while the other held a bottle of Merlot and a corkscrew. "Annie Rose?" he asked, a brow arched inquisitively, as he set everything down on the island in front of Berkeley.

"Yeah, she's a new artist on Emblem," Berkeley explained, referring to Worldwide subsidiary. Carmen Ruiz, Emblem's A&R director, had extended a personal invitation, leaving Berkeley with little choice but to accept. Plus, it would be a great networking opportunity, and she didn't want to pass that up. "I'm not exactly thrilled about it, but I'm a woman of my word. Do you have any plans tomorrow night?" she asked, watching as he twisted the corkscrew into the cork.

"Nothing," he replied, pulling out the cork with practiced ease. "Why?"

"Wanna come with?" Berkeley extended the invitation.

"To the listening party?" Braxton clarified, pouring wine into Berkeley's glass, then his own.

Berkeley nodded, her fingers curling around the stem of her glass. "Yeah. I have a plus one, and no date. Besides, I'll have way more fun with my brother. It'll help take the edge off."

Braxton pondered the proposition for a moment. "I guess it could be fun."

Berkeley's smile widened as she was struck with an idea. "You're an eligible bachelor, Brax. There'll be plenty of beautiful and successful women there..."

Braxton raised a hand, a playful protest on his lips. "Hold on. One, you're not setting me up. And two, you don't have to bribe me. If it'll put you at ease, I'll go."

"Thank you," Berkeley said appreciatively, a touch of relief in her voice.

"Now that that's settled, we just need to survive the rest of the night," Braxton remarked. "Ready to head back in there?" he asked, nodding his head in the direction of the dining room.

Berkeley pouted. "I think I'm gonna need something a lot stronger than this Merlot to get through the rest of the night."