FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Truce

Commission for Anonusr

Explicit Content - 18+

Features characters owned by Nintendo

I pull my snout above the bar for the 50th time, and then release myself, dropping down to the soft mat and rolling my shoulders to loosen up the rock hard tension in my joints. Another morning workout under my belt. Now all that's left is to spend the rest of the day waiting for any distress calls. Those have been few and far between for a month at least. It's fine, it makes my job easy, but also kind of monotonous.

I'm not hoping for another invasion of the Lylat system, obviously. A boring peace is way better than an exciting war.

I've been able to handle the boredom. Aside from keeping myself fit and active, I've been catching up on my reading and I'm even considering picking up another hobby or two to pass the long shifts of nothing. Peppy's happy to rest, considering his age. Slippy's occupying himself with tuning up the Arwings and tinkering with new little inventions.

Falco, though? He's gone. He left Star Fox pretty quickly after we defeated Andross, and last I heard he had gotten involved in underground racing tournaments. He wouldn't get to the point where he started actively threatening lives, though, so at least I knew I wouldn't end up having to face off with him in a dog fight.

Not having friendly competition with my workouts has made things feel a little bit lonely, but I'm still motivating myself as best I can. I do miss him, for sure. We enjoyed pushing each other to our limits, trying to outdo the other in speed or endurance. He always beat me at weights and pullups, but I was far better on the treadmills and obstacle courses. And once things wrapped up, with the two of us sweaty and exhausted, we'd hit the showers.

I'm rock-hard as I step into the showers and pull off my sweaty clothes. It's not abnormal; for some reason my libido's been spiking lately. My mind is cast back to when Falco and I would rut after our workouts. We never pre-planned how it would go. The ratio of topping to bottoming was about 1 to 1, I think.

As I shower I stare at the really faint claw marks on the tiling, claw marks I raked into it in the past like a prisoner counting the days since his arrival. It was hard not to. Falco was a great top. Really nimble and precise with his thrusts, and able to hit my sweet spot like no one else could. I push my ass out, raise my tail and grip my cock, trying to imagine him plunging into me again. I squeeze my muscles and will my prostate to tingle from the memory of that pheasant's cock stretching me wide. Normally my cock would go flaccid for a bit while getting plowed before it grew again for a second wind. Right now, though, all I have to go off is my imagination, so there's plenty of blood to spare. I imagine his beak biting and nipping into my shoulder, biting on my lip to try and give a little reminder of the sharp, bracing shock. I try to remember the huffs and grunts he made, as well as the scent of his body as the water rinsed it away.

I don't waste too much time in the shower reminiscing. It only takes about a minute or so before I paint the wall. Post workout adrenaline mixed with the hungry fantasies makes for a fairly middle of the road climax. It isn't the kind of climax that lifts me off the floor and makes my toes curl and my head spin.

As I clean myself up, and wash the dregs of my seed away, I let my mind wander in the post-nut clarity. I'm still a little horny, funnily enough. I've been like this for a couple of weeks. I might be in my heat cycle again. Normally Falco would be able to help me work through it, but he's been gone for far too long. I start to consider my options for dealing with the itch. Maybe I should see about hooking up with someone, maybe get a friend with benefits or a regular booty call out of the deal.

It's been too long since I've had a proper fuck, and I really want to fix that.

I towel my face off before wrapping it around my lower half and take my time wandering back to my room so I can get changed. I figure this is going to be another uneventful day, like all the others, so I can afford to be slow. Besides, I'm feeling a little bit foggy-brained from the climax and sore from the workout.

The freshly laundered uniform is folded neatly on my bed. ROB must have slipped in while I was working out. Normally I'd just hang it up and use one of the other sets, but it's warm and toasty so I throw them on. Even if no one's going to see it other than myself and Slippy, I make sure my red scarf is wrapped just-so around my green jumpsuit. I throw on my grey jacket and take my headset from its cradle on the bedside table, and ease it carefully over my head to lock it into place. As it tingles against my head and makes my fur bristle, the green eyepiece over my right eye hums to life. My peripheral vision turns emerald for a moment as the boot text scrolls up the little screen.

There's a humming noise rattling against the inner bone of my ear. Something's up with it. Normally this thing's as quiet as a whisper. But for the last couple of weeks it's been making an incessant noise. I keep telling myself I'll have Slippy look at it, but it always slips my mind. My mind tunes out the extra noise by the time I've made it to the control room.

"Mornin' Fox!" Peppy says, reclining his paunchy body in his chair. He's the only one there. "How was your workout?"

"Not bad," I say, as I always do. We always have this little bit of conversation at the beginning of the day, and then things fade into silence. It's not an awkward silence, it's just that we don't have a whole lot to talk about. We've had months of reminiscing and small talk, and rather than try to scrape the bottom of the barrel we just sort of... exist in the same space.

There isn't much to do aside from browse the networks, read the news, and kick back with a book. I'm currently working through the autobiography of some politician, with all the self-congratulatory anecdotes and ramblings that implies. It's dreck, but it passes the time and occupies my thoughts.

Transmission Incoming, my eyepiece hums in my inner ear. I sit up and place the book aside, looking at the comms console. It's silent. My eyepiece hums again. A direct call? I didn't get those often. Or ever.

The caller has no ID. I consider rejecting the call; it could be spam. Then again, any call that got through the spam filters was more likely to be legitimate.

I tap twice on the side of my head, and a horizontal line passes along the width of the green screen.

"Hello, Fox," the deep wolf's voice rumbles, as the line twists into peaks and troughs to match the soundwaves.

"Wolf!" I tense up and grab the arms of my chair. "How did you get this number?"

I try to wave Peppy over. When he doesn't materialise, I turn and see that he's gone. He must have stepped out without my noticing.

"I have my ways," Wolf purrs. "I just wanted to check in on you, boy. How are you?"

"I was just fine until you showed up," I shoot back while grabbing my PDA. I set it to work tracking the source of the broadcast signal. "What do you want from me?"

"Like I said. Just a check-in. I was thinkin' about your father, and you as well, and I couldn't help but feel like I was unfair to you. And him, for that matter."

"Keep talking," I say. There's a pause.

"Well..." there's a weird hesitation in his voice. He exhales long and slow. "I made a mistake. I see that now, clear as day. I should never have thrown my lot in with Andross in the first place, considering what... well, what happened after."

"You're damn right."

"And I want to try and make amends. Clear the air."

"Do you really think I'm going to walk right into an ambush?"

"Relax, Fox. Star Wolf's been disbanded. My mercenary days are well and truly over. I don't see myself hopping into a fighter ship any time soon."

Something about his tone is reassuring. That buzz, or that hum, is back again. Or maybe I'm just imagining it. I hone my senses in on his voice. Trying to get a sense if he's lying, if there's any hesitation.

"Alright." I say. The humming's getting a little stronger again. I tap the side of my visor to see if that settles it down. "So you want to meet me somewhere?"

"Yes. Someplace neutral n' crowded. A place where there's no opportunity for an ambush. On my part, anyway. I know you're too good to do something like that. James raised you well."

"Thank you." the words surprise me. I thought I would have said something like 'Keep my father's name out of my mouth, you piece of shit', but that didn't happen.

Maybe I'd cooled down on him somewhat. There was no real need for animosity now, anyway.

"I have something you might like," Wolf continues. "I know you're probably already fully stocked with keepsakes n' hand-me-downs from your dad, but I'd love to, uh, bequeath some things of my own. Stories. Your father n' I, we butted heads a bunch of times, but I like to think we had a little bit of... respect for each other."

"As much respect as he could have for a space pirate," I shoot back. I've got a little bit of my edge back, but for some odd reason I feel a little bad after the fact, and I'm not sure why.

"I think you'd like to talk to me too," Wolf says. "I can tell."

Do I?

The earpiece is still humming. My heart's beating a little faster, and my mouth feels dry.

"You can?" I ask. I do want to talk to him. I can't explain it, but I feel like I need to get something from him. Answers. Reconciliation. Something like that.

"Call it a hunch, Fox McCloud."

I kind of like how he says my name, especially since I'm hearing the voice in my ear...

"Okay, it's a hunch," I smile.

What's going on with me? Why am I smiling?

The humming turns into a little throbbing pulse, two different beats in each ear, slightly out of sync.

"Sorry," I say reflexively. "I think my earpiece is doing something weird. Can you hear me fine?"

"Just fine. Don't worry about fixing it. I won't take up too much more of your time."

"Okay." I put down my PDA. I've stopped looking at it. I close my eyes and listen to his voice, concentrating through the binaural hum. I feel like I'm floating.

"I'm going to send you the coordinates later, once your shift ends. Then you'll fly to me, and we'll have a little heart to heart. Sound good, Fox McCloud?"

"Yeah, it sounds great." I'm smiling a bit wider, feeling excited. Like I'm seeing an old friend, and not an old mercenary who was trying to kill me not too long ago.

I was interested to see what he had to say. I was interested in seeing him. I found him interesting.

"I'll talk to you later, kiddo."

The call ended, leaving me with a burning face and a tight feeling in my bodysuit.

Kiddo.

Fuck.

Kiddo.

That hit me in a place I wasn't expecting it to hit. All of a sudden, my mind was being flooded with new fantasies, suppositions and wonders. I'd never seen him up close unless we were in the middle of a fistfight. What would he look like in more casual clothes? And what would we look like wearing nothing at all...?

Why was my tail wagging so hard? And how long had I been doing it for?

What was wrong with me?

I leap up out of my chair, making it spin on its axis, and march out of the room as quick as I can. Peppy yelps from the sound. He's returned to his seat. Had he heard or seen any of that?

"You okay, Fox?"

"Yeah," I huff quickly. "Just... heading to the bathroom, be right back."

I'm not lying. I do go straight to the bathroom, already unzipping my bodysuit and shrugging it off just enough so I can stroke myself again.

Kiddo, Wolf says to me in my head as I stroke. Kiddo. Kiddo.

Why did that awaken something in me? I don't really care. I just stroke because it feels good. Better to get this horny energy out of my system before I meet him. Clear mind, free of any horny fantasies.

It takes me less time to cum this time, but it's a more powerful climax, one that actually makes me groan when it hits me. Cum dribbles all over my fingers and knuckles, sticking to them in strands like thick spiderwebs. I stare down at it, breathing heavily and shivering from the afterglow and the exhaustion that accompanies it this time.

Kiddo.

Damnit. Kiddo is still sticking in my head even now, along with the weird hum of my headset. I didn't really wonder if it was a malfunction anymore. It must have been working just fine. I could always have it looked at later.

First, I need to see him.

I suit myself up and make a beeline for the hangar.

"Hey Fox!" Slippy doesn't seem surprised to see me. "What's up?"

"I'm gonna take my Arwing for a spin," I tell him.

"Wait, what?" the toad scoffs with surprise. "That's not like you!"

"Yeah... I just need to get out for a bit, this place is stifling me." Sort of true. I don't get stir crazy normally. But this is different.

"Sounds like something Falco would say," Slippy says. "You're not gonna run off on us and never come back are you?"

"Of course not," I say. I hope my smile looks convincing. I'm not lying though, I do plan on coming back. He stares at me long and hard, and I almost see the hint of a scowl on his face. But then it fades away.

"Okay! Keep your comms on in case we get an alert, okay?"

"Sure thing, kiddo."

"Kiddo?"

Fuck. Why did I have to go and say that?

"Sorry, don't know where that came from," I laugh a little too quickly. "I've been listening to an audio thing, and uh, a character keeps using that... anyway, I'll tell you about it later."

"Mm-kay!" he seems to have bought it. Close one.

Within five minutes I'm out in the dark expanses of space. My cockpit is small and tight, but my den-animal brain finds that comforting. Slippy's been keeping it in perfect condition, too. The joystick moves smoothly, and I don't feel any vertigo.

It occurs to me that he never sent me the coordinates. I just went out on my own without waiting for him.

I suppose it works out better that way, it'd be more suspicious if I left just after getting a message. This way there's deniability.

I decide not to wait.

I call the number Wolf gave me. I brace myself as I fly through the empty blackness. My thighs squeeze the joystick a little, and I feel blood rushing down between my legs again. Keep it together, Fox...

"Hello?" It sounds like a woman. Older. Confused. "Who is this?"

"Oh, sorry." I quickly sputter. "Wrong number."

I end the call immediately, and my ship lurches and judders from a twitch in my leg. I correct it, thanking the stars that no one's around to see that wobble. Falco would never let me live that down.

The pulsing hum of my visor is getting louder. Not distracting. Just louder. My fur feels bristly. My dick's getting hard again. I bring my hand up to the side of my visor, and the moment the call starts I slow my ship's thrusters and bring it to a halt.

"Hey, Kiddo."

"H-hi." I'm already fondling myself through my bodysuit again. He can hear my heavy breathing, I'm sure of it.

"You called a bit sooner than I thought you would. Did you think I wouldn't answer?"

"No," I say. "I'm just..." I try to fight for what to say next, and the silence stretches out until he liberates me from it.

"Don't worry about it," Wolf says. "Wanna patch me into your camera, Kiddo?"

"Yes..." Oh, fuck yes I do. My free hand taps at the controls to my left to let it connect to my headset. A little flashing red dot at the corner of my vision lets me know I'm recording, just in time to see me fish my cock out. It's not completely hard, but it is slick, and it feels so good to stroke. Especially now that I know I'm being watched.

"Mmmm." Wolf rumbles appreciatively, and it's like he's right behind me, growling in my ear. "That's it. That's good, Fox. Keep stroking for me, Kiddo."

"Yes..." I breathe heavily. The arwing is idling, and the joystick is locked in place, so I can safely grind against it without making it pitch. I can't help myself. It's hard and unfeeling, but I can already imagine it being something soft, warm, and fleshy. I hump against it slowly as I stroke my shaft, my thumb pushing down at the head of my shaft.

"Mmmh, you've always been good at workin' that joystick of yours."

"Shut up," I say, even as I smile. My free hand goes up my chest and shrugs down one side of my bodysuit. I want to show more of myself off for him.

I still don't know why I've jumped into this so eagerly. Maybe it's the wrongness of the whole thing. I've jerked off before for an old girlfriend, and a couple of boyfriends. But not for a sworn enemy. Or someone much older than me. I'm safe here, it's not like he's putting me in a position where he can kill me. I think.

But maybe the danger makes it hotter, overriding all my instincts and concerns and cares and filling me with an intense desire to feel his body against mine, his dick inside me.

My head lolls back and I notice I'm drooling on myself. I stroke faster, hump harder, my breath fogging the glass canopy just above me.

"Goood, Kiddo." Wolf just murmurs to me every so often. Just a few little words of encouragement now and then to break up the constant wet shlicking of my fingers around my pre-soaked dick.

"Gonna squirt for me, Kiddo?" Wolf teases me. I can't see him but I can feel his eyes leering at my writhing body. Squirt is a weird choice of word, but it's just one more thing that my horny brain twists into being the hottest thing I've ever heard. It sends me over the edge.

"Yee-e-ess!" I choke it out as one spurt dribbles down my fingers, then the next two shoot up high enough to stick to the front panels of the cockpit. I keep humping and riding it out as the cockpit and my clothes get painted with the most powerful orgasm I've had in the last 24 hours.

My body turns to a statue as my last few drops are milked free,and then I collapse back in my seat, sinking into it with a dazed groan.

"Mmhmm. Thanks for the video, Fox. I'm sending the coordinates to your ship. I reckon I'm pretty close to you. Drink some water on your way, okay?"

"O-okay..."

"Chat to you then, Kiddo."

He's gone again, and I whine like a needy kid. I look at my hand, covered with spiderweb strands of my seed.

The cockpit's a mess. And I definitely don't want Slippy cleaning this up.

My earpiece buzzes and hums.

No point in cleaning it all now. I just need my paws.

I lick my seed clean from my hands, suckling on each digit to coax it away from my fur. I sip up my body suit. It can get cleaned later. The pungent taste and scent still lingers in my mouth for my journey towards our meeting place. My dick's not fully flaccid, flopped to the side in my lap but still sensitive and ready to stand to attention.

I don't know where all this endurance is coming from. All this horny energy I've had in the last while, culminating with this desire to rut with someone I've despised for so long...

But I don't really care where it came from. I want to see where it takes me.

My ship brings me to an old frigate. Not exactly falling apart, but nowhere near pristine. It doesn't look like it's been repainted in a long time. I can detect heat signatures from inside; a lot of them.

I hail up the ship's ID. Nothing. It seems to be totally off the radar. The perfect place for a secret hideout. Or a dive bar.

The thought crosses my mind that this has all been one big diversion, to get me alone for an ambush. But I'm not picking anything up. No hints of any other crafts in the space around me cloaked or otherwise.

As I get closer, a bay door opens up, beckoning me into its brightly lit belly. It turns out there's a bunch of other ships inside, cloaked by the ship. At least there's a bit of the crowd

"You're clear, Kiddo."

Fuck, there it is again. My hesitation evaporates. I squeeze my thighs uncomfortably as I swoop the Arwing inside, without a hint of hesitation.

There's only one other ship inside - the Wolfen. So much for him 'never setting foot in a fighter again'.

Seeing its crimson and gunmetal silhouette makes me bristle, my muscle memory gearing me up for a fight. But it's stationary, and it's empty. I park my Arwing close to it, but not before turning it to face the hatch. Just in case I need to make a quick getaway.

But surely I won't need to, right?

Once the airlock is secured, I open the cockpit and clamber out. The air is not exactly fresh, but it's not as musky as the inside of my Arwing. As I jump down, I see that Wolf's waiting for me, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

He's dressed down. He's got his pink bandana wrapped around his throat, and is wearing leather pants and spiked boots. No shirt, though, just an open vest. It bares his grey fur and his scarred, muscular body. He's in good shape.

He's very attractive too.

"Fuck," I whisper under my breath, hoping he can't hear. The throbbing binaurals push me forward.

"C'mon, Fox." He crooks his head back and grins a mouth full of sharp teeth. "Let's have a drink and catch up."

I follow cautiously. My hand reflexively lingers around my right hip, even though I haven't brought my blaster with me. Should have thought of that. But then, what was there to worry about?

Ahead of him is the sound of dark, thumping music, the scent of smoke and alcohol. It washes over me with greater intensity as we get in deeper, and we're surrounded by Lylatians of all types, shapes and sizes.... Most of them are at least as underdressed as Wolf, if not more. Some are fully naked. I try not to stare, even though they seem to invite me to stare.

"I've got us a booth," he says. He hasn't looked back at me. His tail swings from side to side, daring me to look at the small of his muscular back, and his ass inside the tight pants.

I've never been this attracted to an older man before. I still don't know what to make of it. But the throb of the music pairs nicely with the throb and buzz of my headset. So I just try to let myself enjoy it.

It's very hot in here too. I unzip my bodysuit a little. More than a little. Down as far as my stomach, in fact. No one can see the little remnants of matted fur on my body. Though I do see them checking me out. Some look suspicious of me, others eye me up like I'm dinner.

I kind of like the attention.

Wolf leads me into his booth. It's a little private one, cordoned off by an old, worn curtain. The seats are soft, even if the covering is cracked and old. He slips into the back of the booth, at the far end of the round table, and pats the space to the left of him.

I sit a ways away from him. I still have my guard up. He looks at me and smirks. One of his claws rests on the rim of a whiskey glass, tracing a slow circle.

"So." Wolf says. "How're you doing?"

I'm lost for words for a moment. Of all the stupid ways to open... just what was he playing at?!

"Is that really all you can think of saying?" I say. I look into his purple eye. He doesn't seem nervous or awkward. His claw still traces along his glass, and I can see it in the periphery of my vision even now. It's slow and deliberate and weirdly soothing.

"Let me rephrase that," he says. "How're you finding peace-time? Feeling good after you saved the galaxy?"

"Not bad," I say. "I guess."

"You sound like you're bored to tears," Wolf says. "Nothing wrong with that. I think you're the kind of fox who needs more excitement in their life."

"That's Falco," I say.

"Sure, but you do too. Not as badly, maybe, but you need something. I can see it. You're really antsy. You gotta relax, Kiddo."

I manage to resist the flood of Pavlovian pleasure that time. Maybe he's overusing it. I don't have to let him know that. I do try to relax a little, though. My shoulders are rock hard, and my fists are clenched. So I relax them and breathe out a little more consciously than I had been. That makes a bit of difference.

"You look kinda tired, too," he says, reaching his other paw out towards my thigh. "Sleeping okay?"

"Yeah." I pull myself away. I don't understand why I don't mind how over-familiar he's being.

His tracing hand draws my attention again.

His finger revolves along the glass.

I almost swear I can hear a soft high tone coming from it, but it's drowned out by the music. It's there, though. I look closer at his finger as it traces its slow, lazy journey. My sense of awareness contracts down further and further...

I snap my attention back to his face. I sit back upright - I was slouching for a moment.

"Doesn't look like you're all there," Wolf says. "You're not quite in your right mind, huh?"

His finger dips into the whiskey, making it ripple like a pebble was dropped into it. He lifts it out,, and a bead of amber liquid hangs from the tip. I watch it drip in. I watch it ripple. He dips it in again, lets it drip again.

"I think you're distracted by weird, trivial little things," Wolf coos. I feel his hand on my thigh. I don't feel like removing it anymore. "A distracted mind can fixate on all the wrong things. I don't need to tell you how bad that is for someone like you. How dangerous that is. Right?"

I know he's right.

"So let me see if I could help you with that. I've got a few tricks. You might have noticed one of them already."

It seems like a really neat trick.

"A little physical tic like this works wonders for grounding you. Especially if you can focus on the ripples on the surface with each drip, drip, drip. Can you see them okay?"

I can. But when he moves the glass closer and slips in closer to me, it gets easier.

"Your heavy head can rest a little. Just focus on my finger and on the surface of the whiskey."

My head is really heavy. My snout is pointed straight towards the glass.

His other hand rubs up and down my thigh. I like it.

"Good, Fox. Good, Kiddo."

Being called that makes me feel relaxed. Very happy. I'm very happy right now. Very relaxed.

"You're very relaxed now, I can feel the difference."

I'm very relaxed. I can feel the difference too. This is really nice. His hand moves up along my stomach. I follow his finger and watch the concentric ripples. I feel really sleepy. I feel really content.

"Can I kiss you, Fox?" Wolf asks.

I'd really like him to kiss me. He lifts my snout up, taking my vision away from the rippling whiskey, and pushes his tongue into my mouth. His breath is smoky and spicy from his drink. It's intoxicating. I moan and let him push his body weight against me, and for a moment I feel like I'm going to fall onto my back. I would like to. A lot.

He pulls away from me and releases my head. I gravitate back to looking at the swirling finger and the rippling whiskey. It's nice to return to that. My head dips lower this time. My head is swimmy and tingly and happy, and those nice sounds in my earpiece are helping too. My body is melting into the old cushions.

Sometimes Wolf pulls me away for another kiss, before letting me drop back into the glass, drowning myself in it. His hand grabs my crotch and fondles it. My sleepy hands move to do the same for him. He unbuckles his pants for me and lets me work him over. I stroke up and down, very slowly, since I'm distracted and sleepy. His meat feels nice, smooth, and slick, but I like looking at the glass, so I don't look at his dick. I'd rather keep watching the glass. All I can see is the rippling honey coloured liquid, now. It's filled my entire world. It's all I can think about, all that exists to me.

"You look like you're about ready to conk out, Kiddo," Wolf whispers into my ear.

He's right. I'm ready to conk out, and I'd really like to do so. I'm ready to collapse into him.

"You want to sleep for a while?"

Yes, I'd really like that.

"Good, Kiddo. Sleep for me."

He snaps his fingers, and I sleep.

"Good chat, Fox."

Wolf and I are standing just in front of my Arwing. I yawn, and shake my head to clear the cobwebs. I didn't drink, but I still feel a little buzz.

"Yeah," I say. "That was a good chat. I'm... looking forward to next time."

"Me too," Wolf says with a smile. He kisses me one last time. My heart flutters a little, and I kiss back, stroking his bare chest with a sigh. It's an energising kiss, one that gets the blood pumping. I could use the focus on my flight back to base.

I remind myself not to get too attached. We can keep this casual. We both agreed that it would be casual, I distinctly remember him telling me that during our chats.

"I'll give you a call sometime, okay Kiddo?" Wolf murmurs into my mouth before giving me one last kiss. Then another last kiss. Then another. It takes us a while for us to have our fill of each other's lips. But eventually, he manages to pull away. We laugh a little. It's awkward. But kind of nice, too.

I watch him leave before climbing back into the cockpit. My butt's a bit sore as I sit down, and I can still feel his seed oozing out of me. It's not an unpleasant soreness. It's bracing and refreshing.

My mind doesn't wander as I make my way back. It's empty of thought, of distractions.

When I get back to base, there's a few things I need to do.

A few things I want to do for Wolf.

Not because he asked me to do them, I don't recall him asking me...

But I want to do them for him. Give him access to a few things, send him some layouts and blueprints.

It's a peace offering, that's all. He'll like that.

Maybe he'll call me Kiddo more often if I do.

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