((A random prequel that I wrote specifically thinking about the Okami AU version of werewolf!Erich, but more or less canon for every werewolf!Erich version I’ve written.))

Gregor knocks on the door to Rerugen’s office, then pauses to listen for Rerugen to call him in. Seconds pass in silence and Gregor sighs. Knocks again. Waits—

Nothing.

He rolls his eyes and lets himself in, knowing that Rerugen won’t mind since it’s him. “Sir, I have—” he starts to say, then frowns at the empty room. “Really now,” he huffs quietly, then shakes his head and crosses the room. “If only this meant he’d actually gone home,” he mutters as he rounds the desk and sets the tray down on a corner of it—

And then stills, eyes narrowing at the sight of Rerugen’s glasses laying unattended atop the man’s paperwork, right next to a pen.

(That isn’t right.)

Gregor takes a careful step back, gaze sweeping across the desk and then the room itself: there’s no sign of a struggle, no sign of anyone breaking in, and yet—

Rerugen is as good as blind without his glasses, so there’s no way he would willingly leave them behind. And yet, somehow, for some reason, he has.

Worry grows in Gregor’s chest as he steps back further and begins a closer examination of the room, taking care not to disturb anything just in case; everything seems to be in its proper place — drawers closed and papers stacked the way Rerugen prefers — and the two small windows are still fully sealed. The only sign of anything untoward is the desk itself, with the papers left unattended and Rerugen’s glasses laying atop; if not for the glasses, Gregor would think Rerugen had simply stepped out of the room for a moment, but…

“I am not being paid enough to deal with mysterious disappearances,” Gregor huffs in exasperation as he gives the desk another look. Really, he should just… look around the rest of Central, maybe ask some people if they’ve seen Rerugen. It’s been all of fifteen minutes since he left to fetch the man a small dinner, he can’t have gotten that far, especially without his glasses—

A soft whuff derails Gregor’s thoughts and makes him freeze; that’s a canine sort of sound, but why is there a dog in Rerugen’s office? The man doesn’t have a dog, as far as Gregor is aware, and would never bring it into his office even if he did. There’s no reason for a dog to be here, inside Central, inside Reguren’s office, especially with Rerugen missing. Maybe he could believe the man had taken a fancy to a stray and brought it inside if Rerugen’s glasses weren’t sitting abandoned on his desk, but they are, so what the hell is going on?

Slowly, carefully, Gregor crouches down to peer beneath Rerugen’s desk—

Only to yelp and tumble back at the unmistakable sight of a wolf huddled beneath Rerugen’s desk; it’s a giant thing, taking up most of the space under the desk, and it’s watching him, its ears angled back and bits of white visible around its eyes in a clear sign of panic.

Gregor swallows. Edges further back from the wild animal under Rerugen’s desk. Tries to make sense of what the hell he staring at, because— because—

Why is there a wolf under Rerugen’s desk?!

“Don’t suppose I’m just seeing things?” Gregor asks the wolf a touch hysterically. “Too many late nights trying to get General von Rerugen to stop working? No?” He swallows again and brings a shaking hand up to press over his mouth, watching the wolf watch him. One wrong move and he’s dead, he knows it: wolves might naturally avoid humans if possible, but this wolf is cornered, trapped in a place it doesn’t belong, separated from its pack—

“Wait, how the hell are you here, anyway?” Gregor asks as his mind catches up with his thoughts. “And where the hell is General von Rerugen?”

There’s no blood under the desk, no sign of struggle, no indication that Rerugen fled or the wolf gave chase, or anything of the sort. There’s just… a wolf. Under Rerugen’s desk. Hundreds of kilometers away from any sort of natural territory of such a beast. Deep in one of the largest cities in the Empire. On the second floor of one of the most guarded buildings in one of the most guarded areas in the city.

“This better not be someone’s idea of a joke,” Gregor grumbles as he lets his hand drop away and slowly sits up, watching for any sign of aggression from the wolf.

The wolf whines softly, ears folding flat and head lowering. Gregor can still see bits of white around its eyes, a sure sign of fright if wolves are anything like dogs, but all it does is tuck itself further back beneath the desk.

Gregor sighs and settles into a more comfortable crouch as he eyes the beast. “I’m not angry at you,” he murmurs, making an effort to sound as comforting as he can; he has no idea if wolves can read human tone and posture like dogs can, but it’s worth the effort. He’s certainly not going to try to get any closer, not with the clear signs of fright in the wolf’s body language, but that leaves him with no real idea of what to even do.

“I’m pretty sure this is more than I signed up to deal with,” he tells the wolf dryly, then bites back a smile at the slightly louder whuff that the wolf gives in response. “Don’t suppose you know what happened to General von Rerugen, hmm? He was here when I left to get him food, and now he’s not,” Gregor rambles just to fill the uncomfortable silence, then narrows his eyes at the way the wolf’s ears perk slightly at the word ‘food’. “Like that idea? Hungry? Want some food?” he probes, wondering if someone in Central was actually enough of a fool to try and make a wolf into a pet.

The wolf’s head twitches into something almost like a nod, before the beast whines again and tucks its tail tight around its legs, head lowering towards its gigantic paws.

Gregor frowns at the beast, even as something like dread begins to curl through his chest; he grew up around dogs, both working dogs and spoiled pets, and that… dogs don’t nod, not if they’re healthy. So either he has an unhealthy — and thus extra dangerous — wolf on his hands, or…

He doesn’t have a wolf on his hands at all.

(Rerugen’s glasses are abandoned atop his desk and there’s a wolf curled up beneath it.)

(He knows the fairy tales just like everyone else.)

(But… no, surely not.)

(…surely…)

“Well, I suppose since my General isn’t around, he won’t mind if I share some of his food with you,” Gregor states, watching the way the wolf’s ears twitch at his words; that isn’t really evidence of anything, unfortunately, and the wolf seems determined to remain curled up with its head on the floor, so… “Promise not to bite if I come a bit closer?” Gregor asks wryly even as he begins to edge closer so he can reach the tray he’d set on Rerugen’s desk. “I know I probably taste better than whatever the hell they serve in the cafeteria, but the sausages are probably better for you.” He pauses a moment, considers that, then shrugs and adds, “Well, theoretically, at least. Maybe. I guess it depends on what they’re trying to pass off as sausages this week.”

The wolf whuffs in response, ears relaxing and tail thumping once against the floor before stilling. Even better, the beast’s eyes regain a more normal look, whites no longer visible and facial muscles softening.

“They’ll probably fight back less?” Gregor offers with a touch of amusement, even as he stretches up to feel around and— there. He grabs a sausage and quickly tosses to towards the wolf, prepared to scramble back at even the hint of a lunge, but—

The wolf just lifts its head and sniffs at the sausage, a deeply unimpressed look crossing its face before it fixes Gregor with a familiar flat stare—

“So, when were you going to tell me you were a creature of myth, sir?” Gregor asks lightly, keeping his voice to the same even tones as before; if the wolf is just a wolf, the only person who’s going to know about this is him, so why not ask? The worst that will happen is he makes a fool of himself in front of a creature that can’t understand his words, after all.

The wolf visibly starts, head jerking up and ears flattening, body tensing, and—

There are clothes tucked under its body. Familiar clothes. A uniform, in fact.

Gregor stares at the bit of uniform he can see, then fixes the wolf — fixes General von Rerugen — with an exasperated look and says, “Really, sir?”

Rerugen gives him the most sheepish look a canine can, and then stubbornly settles back down atop his uniform, tucking it back beneath him as if that will erase the past few minutes.

“Really, sir?” Gregor repeats as he lets himself relax, fully convinced that Rerugen is entirely in control of himself and thus no danger to him. He hums a bit and casts a glance at the nearby window; he can’t see the moon from this angle, but it’s probably full, if the legends are to be believed. It isn’t night, though, just late evening… “Governed by just the moon, I guess?” he murmurs aloud, then gives Rerugen a thoughtful look and adds, “And someone clearly forgot, if the sudden disappearance and hiding under the desk is any indication.”

Rerugen heaves a sigh and rests his head on the floor, looking so dejected that Gregor can’t help but snicker in reaction.

“Right, okay… so you can clearly understand me,” Gregor says once he gets himself back under control. The small, very human nod that Rerugen gives him is reassuring, though the tired air about him is worrying. “And you’re in full control of yourself—” another nod, also reassuring— “so this isn’t entirely like the legends.” Gregor reaches up to rub at his chin, considering the huddled ball of fur that is his superior officer, and then asks, “So probably not transmissible like the legends say?”

Rerugen’s ears flatten and he gives a sharp shake of his head, though Gregor isn’t entirely certain what he means by that. That’s his fault, though, since he didn’t ask a clear yes or no question; Rerugen could be indicating that it isn’t transmissible, or that Gregor’s guess is wrong and that it is, and that’s on Gregor’s bad phrasing.

“Sorry, just to clarify— nod if it can be transmitted, shake your head if it can’t,” he tries for.

Rerugen shakes his head again and Gregor breathes a soft sigh of relief; as interesting as a living myth is, he… really doesn’t want to accidentally become one.

“Thanks.” Gregor considers Rerugen for a moment, consciously making an effort to catalog everything he can about the wolf-formed man and compare it against what he knows of dogs; he doubts the comparison will be *entirely* accurate, since he has no idea how ‘wolf-like’ Rerugen really is, but his huddled posture, the way he keeps ducking his head, the way his ears keep flattening—

“You’re worried I’m going to report you,” Gregor states with a small frown, and is promptly ‘rewarded’ with Rerugen tensing up and the whites of his eyes beginning to show again. “I won’t,” he hastily adds, before Rerugen can manage to work himself up *too* much. “Is there really no one else in Central who knows?” he asks a touch incredulously, then huffs when Rerugen shakes his head. “I suppose I’m honored, then,” Gregor says, knowing all-too-well that Rerugen wouldn’t have revealed this to him if at all possible.

Or at least… not so soon. He’s only recently been assigned to the man as his aide, after all, and they haven’t had much chance to build the sort of trust something like this requires. If there even is a level of trust that would have Rerugen comfortable enough to reveal this willingly.

(Gregor somehow doubts it.)

(Rerugen is a rather private man, all things considered.)

Gregor adjusts his legs, seating himself more comfortably on the floor as he tries to think of what to do next; he can’t sneak Rerugen out of the building like this, he’s probably not going to be able to get Rerugen to eat anything, the man can’t keep working in this shape…

Really, he should probably just leave Rerugen be and let the man nap under his desk until the moon sets again, since he’d bet money that that was Rerugen’s original plan.

It feels a bit… cold, though. Not quite cruel, but close to it. Like if he leaves Rerugen to deal with this by himself, he’ll be drawing a line between them, a silent agreement that this part of Rerugen’s life is not under Gregor’s purview as his aide.

Except in a way it absolutely has to be: at minimum, he’s going to need to track the phases of the moon and make sure to never schedule anything when the moon is in the sky. And if Rerugen wants to keep this quiet, Gregor’s also going to need to make sure the man has somewhere private to transform where no one will interrupt him. Then there’s the need for food for his canine form, something to drink out of, perhaps even some grooming supplies if Rerugen’s wolf form reacts to seasonal changes?

It feels strange to think about treating his boss even vaguely like the pets Gregor grew up with, but what else is he supposed to do? Let the man try to manage this all by himself? Part of Gregor’s duty is to make sure Rerugen isn’t inconvenienced, and something like this definitely seems like an inconvenience.

“Right, we’re going to be discussing what sort of needs you have in this shape as soon as you can talk again,” Gregor decides, then arches an eyebrow when Rerugen huffs and looks away. “Sir, I know I was only recently assigned to you, but that doesn’t mean I intend to shirk my duties. This is still you, which means that this is also part of my responsibility. And as a part of that responsibility, I need to know what and who you’re comfortable with like this and how best I can support you.”

A low, grumbling growl crawls up Rerugen’s throat, though it doesn’t particularly sound threatening so much as just… annoyed.

“Well, you’re the one currently stuck as a wolf until the moon sets,” Gregor reminds the man with a touch of asperity. “Which is hours away, may I remind you. It might be almost nighttime this time, but I know the moon sometimes rises during the day. At minimum, we need a plan for how I’m going to handle things in that situation.” Gregor clicks his tongue and leans forward a bit, propping his chin on his hand as he meets Rerugen’s gaze without hesitation.

“I’m not quite sure how you managed to get by without discovery so far, but—” he pauses as Rerugen twitches and looks away, suspicion rising in his mind. “You were discovered?” he tries thoughtfully, only to frown when Rerugen starts to shake his head, stops, and then lifts a paw and waggles it up and down. “You were… maybe discovered?” he tries again, then purses his lips when Rerugen nods. “A field commander, I’m assuming?”

Rerugen nods again, and Gregor rolls that thought around in his mind; the ‘maybe’ implies that someone might have caught a glimpse of Erich’s wolf form out of the corner of their eye, or chased him from camp without realizing exactly what they were doing.

Either way, it probably doesn’t matter too much. There’s nothing in the regulations about werewolves not being allowed to be officers, albeit because there’s nothing in the regulations about werewolves at all, since they’re supposed to be nothing but a myth, so Gregor can probably figure out a nice, tidy argument that will keep Rerugen safe if his status is discovered. On the other hand…

“Is this somehow magic-based?” he asks a touch warily, wondering if he’s going to have to figure out a way to bypass the regulations about people with magic. Those regulations will be harder to work around — specifically the ones saying that anyone with usable levels of magic needs to become a mage in one of the armed forces, not a standard officer — but he might be able to figure something out. Maybe. With some effort.

So it’s a relief when Rerugen shakes his head in response.

(One less thing to worry about, at least.)

Gregor makes a few mental notes of things to follow up on and arguments to build — he really needs to figure out some sort of code to write his notes in, this is already turning into a much more tangled mess than he was taught to expect — the lifts a hand to run it through his hair. “It’s too bad you’re stuck in that form for now,” he says absently, then narrows his eyes at the way Rerugen tilts his head away, an air of sheepishness about him.

That’s— but no, there are a handful of stories about reverting werewolves, aren’t there? Some of them are bit more violent than Gregor would prefer, and part of him doubts those apply to Rerugen’s sort of werewolf, since he’s in total control and isn’t really a monster, but, hmm…

“I do hope it isn’t true love’s kiss, because I certainly don’t qualify,” Gregor jokes, then barks a laugh at the offended look Rerugen gives him in return. “So, not that, then? Let’s see… you’re laying on your clothing, so I don’t think clothes are the answer. Unless the answer is clothes made by your true love, in which case—”

Rerugen gives a deep, offended whuff and pointedly shuffles around so that his back is to Gregor and his head is tucked down by his paws.

Gregor snorts at Rerugen’s reaction, but still gives the man a moment to resettle before saying, “I promise to stop teasing about that, even if most of the stories emphasize love as being the answer.” The sharp thump of Rerugen’s tail against the floor is his only answer, and he really can’t judge what that means without being able to see the man’s face or ears.

Though now that he’s thinking about it, his grandmother used to tell him a story about a mother’s love calling the man back from the beast, so maybe it isn’t restricted to fairytale ‘true love’, but more… love in general?

If that’s the case, then… well, it doesn’t particularly help right now, even if he did know whatever would trigger Rerugen’s transformation. Rerugen is just a duty at the moment, and Gregor’s honest enough to admit that; he fully expects that to change as they get to know each other, but for now he can’t even honestly say he’s fond of the man. Rerugen is a pleasant enough sort, diligent and a credit to his training, but they’re practically strangers, surprise discoveries aside.

Regardless, he’s probably begun to tread on the edges of Rerugen’s tolerance, so it’s best if he dropped that line of discussion.

A brief glance out the window confirms that the sun is almost fully down, the sky taking on the familiar deep blue of night. He could try to find something more palatable than mess hall food— he should, actually, because if there’s one thing he’s noticed in the handful of days they’ve been paired up is that Rerugen barely eats enough as is, often too lost in work to remember to get himself anything. But at the same time…

He turns his attention back to Rerugen, taking in the way he’s curled up in a tight ball, and discards the idea of food. Sleep is probably more important right now.

“Will that actually be a comfortable place to wake up, if you transform back while asleep?” Gregor asks. “I know of a small sitting room that almost no one uses. You could curl up on one of the couches and at least not bang your head on the underside of your desk when you wake up.”

Rerugen heaves a sigh but otherwise doesn’t move, and Gregor frowns at the man’s back. “If you’re worried about being seen, I’ll lock the door and stay with you,” he offers after a bit of thought. “If anyone asks, I’ll just say you’re resting and that I don’t appreciate the disturbance.” He can almost feel the way Rerugen wavers at that, still reluctant but definitely interested if Gregor’s to judge, and it makes him wonder what else he can offer that will convince Rerugen to actually get up and move to somewhere more comfortable. He really doesn’t know though, isn’t familiar enough with the man to know what is and isn’t a good ‘bribe’, so all he can say is, “You know you’ll be more comfortable if you do.”

Rerugen’s head lifts just enough for one dark eye to fix Gregor with a look, and Gregor just arches an eyebrow in response, perfectly content to wait his boss out as the man thinks it over.

It doesn’t take long before Rerugen heaves another sigh and reluctantly pushes himself up, slinking out from under the desk and then standing to his full height and—

The breath freezes in Gregor’s throat as he forces himself to stay still, to not react to the predator suddenly inches from his face. He’s been around large dogs most of his life, but Rerugen somehow dwarfs them all, and, worse, there’s something… other about him. Something different. A piece of the wild in a place where it doesn’t belong, a sight he’d never expected to see—

Rerugen remains still, watching him, waiting for him to react—

(Waiting for him to flee?)

—and Gregor forces himself to take a deep breath. Forces himself to relax. To take Rerugen’s stance in. To familiarize himself with this version of the man he’s supposed to assist.

Now that he can actually see most of the wolf-formed man, he can’t help but be concerned: Rerugen’s fur is a bit scruffier than he expected and his sides seem a bit too sunken in for health. Gregor’s not exactly an expert on wolf health, but if Rerugen were a dog, he’d absolutely take custody of him from whatever asshole was mistreating him.

(Unfortunately, ‘the asshole mistreating him’ is likely Rerugen himself in this case, and the ‘mistreatment’ is probably just a result of Rerugen having no time for personal care and no one he trusts to handle it.)

(Well, Gregor will do his best to take care of that.)

(It’s part of his job now, anyway.)

“Right, come on, let’s get going,” Gregor says as he pushes himself to his feet and carefully steps around Rerugen to grab the man’s glasses from his desk, then kneels to pull the discarded uniform out from under the desk. “We’ll talk more in the morning,” he adds as he swiftly folds everything up, sets Rerugen’s glasses atop the stack, then reaches under again to grab the sausage that Rerugen had turned his nose up at.

(Definitely something he’s going to need to figure out.)

(But that will come in time.)

Gregor drops the sausage on the tray and resolves to clean the whole thing up later. He has other things to worry about right now, like getting Rerugen to the sitting room without being detected; he doesn’t think there’s anyone else up here between this room and the room he’s thinking about, but it would be just his luck for someone to be wandering the halls unexpectedly.

Mentally preparing his excuses if they do get caught, Gregor picks up the stack of Rerugen’s clothing and makes to stand up—

Then pauses to eye the clothes in his arms, something niggling at the back of his mind—

“Where did you put your boots?” Gregor asks as the niggling suddenly clicks into place; he is literally holding all of Rerugen’s clothing right now, which paints a very distinct picture of how Rerugen’s shift works, which means the man’s boots should definitely be around here somewhere, but another glance under the desk reveals nothing out of the ordinary.

Rerugen sighs again and gives himself a shake, then moves across the room to a low side table, crouches down, and reaches one gigantic paw under the table. He fishes around for a moment, clearly trying to move something without the benefit of hands, and then makes a soft noise of triumph and bats first one, then the second boot out from under the table.

“I guess they would be pretty uncomfortable to lay on,” Gregor remarks with amusement as he leans down to pick the boots up and tuck them under his arm, already considering the best way to deal with this in the future. He’ll need to begin carrying a bag or satchel of some sort regularly, so that it doesn’t stand out when he actually needs it around the full moon, and he should… probably make sure he keeps a spare change of clothes on hand just in case.

(…and maybe a spare set of glasses, too…)

(Rerugen is practically blind without them, and if he transforms in a bad spot and loses his glasses…)

(…)

(…yeah, he’ll hunt down the man’s prescription and order a spare set as soon as he finds it.)

Rerugen gives a pointed huff and turns away, prowling towards the door with impeccable grace, all the more evidence that this is by no means new to Rerugen, no matter how much of a shock it is to Gregor.

It’s strange to think that, an hour ago, Gregor would have confidently said that there’s nothing out of the ordinary about Rerugen, and now he’s staring at a black and cream wolf and carrying Rerugen’s clothes as he follows the wolf across the room to the door.

Rerugen’s claws click against the wooden floor as he steps off the carpet, and he settles beside the door like the most well-trained dog Gregor’s ever had, which is— which is one of the weirdest thoughts he’s had about this whole situation, right up there with wondering if the man needs to be groomed and he just—

Yeah, he’s going to need some time tonight to rebuild his worldview. And come up with a suitably cryptic code to keep his notes in.

(His training did not prepare him for dealing with a secretly-a-werewolf superior.)

(How the hell is he going to—)

(No, he can’t think like that.)

(This isn’t any different from any other secret he’s going to be expected to keep, it’s just… more personal than expected.)

(He can do this.)

“Let me look first,” Gregor murmurs as he juggles Rerugen’s clothing and boots in order to free a hand, then turns the doorknob and cracks the door open enough to peer out into the hallway. When he doesn’t see anyone in either direction — thank fuck for Central being practically a ghost town at this hour — he opens the door the rest of the way and steps through. “Come on, the room’s just down the hall,” he says as he starts moving.

There’s silence behind him for one-two-three steps and he starts to worry, starts to wonder if Rerugen won’t follow him, if the man’s trust won’t extend to this despite agreeing to it just a minute ago, and then—

The tell-tale click of claws on wood starts up, only to quickly fall silent again as Rerugen steps onto the runner going down the center of the hallway.

Gregor releases a breath he wasn’t aware of holding. Tucks Rerugen’s boots and clothing more firmly into his side. Tips his chin and squares his shoulders and does his best to project nothing-here-ignore-anything-unusual-you-see-nothing as he strides down the empty hallway.

(He’s just escorting Rerugen’s dog to where the man is resting, that’s all.)

(There’s no wolf following him, it’s just a dog.)

(Just… a very big dog.)

(A… very big dog…)

Luckily, no one steps out into the hallway to see them, and there’s no one lingering in the hall that he turns down, and, when they finally reach the door to the sitting room, there’s even no one there either.

Relief crawls down Gregor’s spine as he shoves the door open further and gestures Rerugen in, and it takes all his willpower not to just slump against the door once it’s closed and he’s locked it behind them.

(He’s going to have to get used to this, he knows that, but… he thinks he can be forgiven the stress just this once.)

(Considering how he just learned about his superior being a werewolf, and all.)

“The couch is comfortable enough to sleep on as a human,” Gregor states as he steps past Rerugen and leans down to set the man’s clothes upon the coffee table and to drop the man’s boots beside the couch. “I doubt anyone will notice a bit of fur on it, either, so get comfortable and get some rest.”

Rerugen stares at him thoughtfully for a moment, deep brown eyes almost black in the soft light of the little sitting room, before finally huffing and slinking around Gregor to reach the couch. He pauses again at the edge of the couch, as if second-guessing himself, then almost reluctantly hops up onto the couch and settles in one corner, body tucked into a ball and ears slightly back as he keeps a wary eye on Gregor from his new position.

Gregor pointedly arches an eyebrow at the man. “That doesn’t look like rest, sir,” he drawls as he pulls a small notebook and a pencil from one of his pockets and flips the notebook open. “I’m not sure about werewolves, but I know domestic dogs need more sleep than humans do, so I suspect you do as well.”

Rerugen’s ears flatten and his tail thumps once against the couch, clearly displeased with Gregor’s words.

“Well it’s not like you can do anything else in this form,” Gregor points out with a touch of exasperation. “Unless you want to play twenty questions?”

As expected, Rerugen huffs at him and tucks his tail over his face, clearly indicating what he thinks of that idea.

“Sleep well, sir,” Gregor tells the man, amusement lacing his voice, then has to hold back a laugh at the low grumbling-growl emanating from Rerugen’s throat; it’s one of the most put upon noises he’s ever heard, and one of his family’s working dogs had been a crotchety old man since puphood.

(Maybe it’s wrong of him, but… he kind of likes this version of his superior.)

(It’s at least significantly easier to read the man like this!)

(Though he could do without the tiny voice in the back of his head wondering if Rerugen’s fur is as soft as it looks.)

(That is… probably not a though he should be having about his superior.)

(Not that he’ll ever let Rerugen know, but still!)

With a final, amused shake of his head to try and dispel those thought, Gregor focuses on the notebook in his hand; he has a cypher to construct and memorize and information to jot down before he forgets it.

Time to get to work.