A "Romance" in Seven Acts
a story by Dot
---
How Bulma and Vegita got together must be the most worn-out topic for a fan fic 
by now...but I just _couldn't_ help myself.  I'm a hopeless romantic.  ^^;
This story, then, tells part of the untold story that Toriyama so conveniently 
left blank (THANK YOU, Toriyama-sama! :), with a bit of a twist.  You see, things 
didn't go the way most people think, at least not IMHO...
It gets slightly lime scented, but nothing actually happens.  Don't look so 
disappointed.  :)
(Finally finished per intense reader request :) 
---
Act One: Yamcha's 'Declaration of Independence'
        Yamcha took a deep breath and knocked on the front door of Bulma's 
house.
        "Yamcha! It's about time you got here!" Before he could say anything, 
Bulma dragged him into the kitchen and poured him a mug of coffee.  "So you 
wanted to talk to me?" She asked, sitting down as well.
        "Yes..." Yamcha fingered the mug.  "About us."
        "What about us?" Bulma prompted.  'At long last...Yamcha's going to 
propose to me!' Yamcha saw the hopeful glimmer in her eyes and took a deep 
breath, weighing carefully what he was about to say...
        "I can't do it."
        "WHAT?!?" If Bulma's grip had been any stronger, she would have crushed 
the table.
        "I.  Can't.  Do.  It." Yamcha repeated one word at a time.  "I'm sorry." He 
sighed.  "Maybe I've been a bachelor too long and can't stand being bossed 
around; maybe I'm not ready for commitment.  But for whatever reason, I just 
can't imagine spending the rest of my life with you." Bulma opened her mouth to 
speak, but no sound came out.  She was simply too shocked to say anything.  "I 
have my own life...I'm an adult who can make my own decisions.  I've really tried 
to respect you, but you've never done the same for me.  You just tell me what to 
do and expect me to do it.  I can't keep doing that.  I--" Yamcha never got to 
finish, because Bulma slapped him.
        "You want your own life, do you?" She barely kept her voice low.  "Then 
get out; the door's right there." She pointed towards it.
        "Bulma, that's _not_ what I meant--" 
        "Get out.  _GET OUT!_ I never want to see your face again!"
        Yamcha's face darkened.  "You _won't_." He stood and walked out the door.  
"Good bye."


Bulma's journal, later that day:
        Yamcha and I broke up today.  We had our old fight about getting married, 
and he walked out on it.  Usually, he always came back, apologized, and we were a 
couple again...but this time as I watched him leave, I somehow knew that he 
would never come back.
        Sometimes I envy Son-kun: he had a wife waiting for him and didn't even 
know it.  And me? What good did it do for me to be rich, young, and pretty...but 
with no boyfriend? I was very tempted to look for the Dragon Balls again, but I 
was too busy learning how to take care of the company after Dad retires.
        I should have wished for the right man when I had the chance...


Act Two: Vegita, and What he was Doing at Bulma's House
        "I want a gravity room," He told the inventor.  "One that goes up to 300 
g."
        "_What_?!?" Dr.  Briefs nearly swallowed his cigarrette.  "_300 g_?!?"
        "Yes...Kakarrotto trained in 100 g before; I want be better than him 
three times over."
        "Impossible! If you weighed 60 kg, under 300 g you'd weigh 18 tons!"
        "I know that! I'm not _that_ stupid, you know!"
        "I mean, that would kill you!"
        But Vegita wouldn't listen to such talk.  "Build it.  And be quick about 
it."
        Dr.  Briefs was quick about it, all right: he had the gravity room built 
in one week.  Vegita began training right away, but he found doing so under 
merely 100 g, even though he had trained under increased gravity before, was 
extremely difficult.  He persisted, though, and kept training.  In fact, Vegita 
was such a regular guest that Bulma's mother offered him a room to live in, but 
he refused; he was not about to live under Bulma's 'hospitality' again.


        One day, as Vegita wrapped up his training, he heard yet another heated 
argument between Bulma and her wimpy excuse of a 'boyfriend', Yamcha.  He watched 
with amusement as Bulma chased Yamcha out of the house.
        "Fine! Leave!" She was screaming.  "And don't come crawling back to me, 
you hear?!?" She shook a fist at the retreating man.
        'I would never let a woman push me around like that...' Vegita thought.  
Indeed, while he had stayed at Bulma's house, he made it clear to them that he 
was only a temporary guest, although he had eaten enough of their food to 
qualify as a 'major dependent', as Bulma's father once joked.  But Bulma's 
overbearing presence was impossible to ignore; she was _everywhere_, and tried 
to tell Vegita what to do whenever she got the chance.  _No one_ ever ordered 
Vegita around; he had only submitted to Freeza because he had found destroying 
planets interesting.
        He was _not_ about to follow the whims of that human woman.


Act Three: Not Quite Love at First Sight, and Not Anywhere Close
        Foolishly, Bulma waited for Yamcha to come back.  She kept convincing 
herself that he wasn't gone for good and that they could go back to the way they 
were before the argument.  So she kept waiting, and turned down all of the men 
Bulma's mother tried to hook her up with.  But she really never saw Yamcha again.
        One night, it finally dawned on her that her relationship with Yamcha 
was truly over.  That night, she threw herself on her bed and cried, hating 
herself for being so damned assertive, and Yamcha for not standing up for 
himself until he bailed out.  After she ran out of tears, she just lay there for 
a while.  When she got tired of that, she opened her window, looked out--and 
happened to catch a glimpse of Vegita coming out of the gravity chamber.
        She found herself unable to wrest her eyes away from his bare back, wich 
glistened with weat, but to her seemed to be more perfect than the muscular 
figures she had studied in Sculpure class.  After a while, Vegita, who was 
rubbing himself down with a towel, sensed her presence and glared up at her.
        "What the hell are you looking at?" He demanded.  "Never seen a 
half-naked man before?" Bulma hurriedly retreated and closed the window, 
blushing furiously.
        When she looked back out again, Vegita was gone.
        That night, Bulma repeatedly caught herself fantasizing about Vegita, 
and felt guilty about it.
        'How could I be thinking about him, a bad guy, like this?' She reminded 
herself that just a little while ago Vegita had tried to kill Goku, and 
threatened to kill her as well.  'But damn...he's one good looking bad guy...'


        "Stupid woman..." Vegita mumbled as he flew back to the lake he had 
discovered and considered as his own.  He remembered how she had stared at him 
like an idiot--eyes glazed and mouth slightly open--and shuddered with 
revulsion.  "A man has no privacy around here..."


Act Four: The Rescue
        Every day, Vegita pushed himself harder and harder, and got closer and 
closer to becoming Super Saiyajin--but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't 
break the barrier.  Sometimes he wore himself down so much that he had to _crawl_ 
out of the gravity room.  He quickly struggled to his feet, though, whenever he 
saw Bulma watching him.
        After the little 'half-naked man' incident, Bulma looked out her window 
every night.  She didn't always see him, though, since Vegita practiced a lot 
later now--and, much to Bulma's secret disappointment, he _always_ wore a shirt, 
no matter how hot it was.
        He was not going to allow her to feel sorry for him, which he knew she 
did because once she asked if he was all right.  As he trained, his frustration 
grew because he still couldn't bring his ki to anywhere near Kakarrotto's 
levels.
        Today, the goal eluded him yet again; this time, he was so close he 
thought for a brief moment that he had actually succeeded--but then his ki 
levels dropped to normal again.
        'No...I won't give up...' Vegita thought resolutely.  'I _refuse_ to give 
up!' He was going to try again when he felt a little nauseated, so decided to 
call it quits for the day.  After all, he had plenty of time left to improve 
himself.
        The next day, though, Vegita felt even worse: he had to stop for breath 
much more frequently, and the nausea he had felt the day before became even more 
intense.  When he went into the kitchen for a snack break, Bulma, who also 
happened to be there, noticed his unusually pale color.
        "Are you all right?" She asked.  Ignoring her, Vegita raided the 
refrigerator and walked back out of the kitchen.  "Well, _excuse_ me! Sorry for 
caring!"
        Vegita went back into the gravity chamber and kicked it up all the way 
to 300 g.  It was still quite hard on him, but he had made himself get used to 
it.  After a few warm-up excercises, he began his usual regimen, ignoring the 
discomfort.  After a few hours, he decided that he was ready to try to break the 
barrier again.  He positioned himself and began to collect his ki.  As it neared 
the critical point, Vegita felt ill again, but he decided that he was too close 
to succeeding to stop.
        He forced his ki higher one notch.
        The room spun dizzily around and everything went black.
        He passed out, hitting the ground face-first with a dull thud.


        Bulma heard the thud but didn't investigate it immeadiately.  Vegita had 
explicitly warned her not to interrupt his training; Bulma knew better than to 
go against that order.  By late evening, though, Bulma was rather concerned 
because there was no sound at all coming out of the gravity room.  Usually, even 
from a distance, she could hear Vegita swearing, bringing down curses of all 
sorts onto 'Kakarrotto'.  But now, the gravity chamber was absolutely silent--and 
this worried her.
        Bulma shook her head.  'I can't believe I'm actually worried about 
Vegita! If I try to check on him, he'll probably just insult me and say he's 
fine.'
        But as midnight drew near, the "occupied" sign was still lit.  Finally, 
Bulma couldn't resist her curiosity or her concern.  She walked to the entrance, 
took a deep breath, then turned off the gravity and opened the door.
        And gasped.
        She gasped again when she touched his face and discovered how hot he 
was.  She tried to lift him, with no success, so she ran inside, grabbed her box 
of all-purpose capsules, then ran back.  She expanded the stretcher and somehow 
managed to roll Vegita onto it.


        Vegita opened his eyes and found a wet towel on his forehead.  Taking it 
off, he flung it aside and tried to get up, but when he lifted his head he felt 
dizzy again.  He fought against it, though, and managed to sit up.  He looked 
around, and discovered that he was in one of the innumerable guestrooms in the 
house, equipped with a small bathroom, a bed, and a television.  On the table 
next to the bed were an emergency first-aid kit, a half-full pitcher, a glass, 
and a pan of water.  He was wondering what those things were for when Bulma 
entered with a kettle of hot water.
        "My goodness!" She exclaimed.  "What do you think you're doing?!? Lie 
back down this instant!" She placed the kettle on the table and pushed him back 
towards the pillow with all of her might.  Amazingly--to both of them--he was so 
weak that he had to allow her to do so.  Bulma then picked up the towel from the 
ground, dipped it into the pan, and placed it back across Vegita's forhead.  She 
also took out a thermometor from the first-aid kit and stuck it into Vegita's 
mouth.
        "Mrph!" Vegita protested, and tried to spit it out, but Bulma held it 
firm.  After about a minute--what seemed like forever to Vegita--Bulma took it 
out and looked at it.
        "_115 degrees_?!? She nearly dropped it.  "Boy, you are one sick 
Saiyajin!"
        "I am _not_ sick!" The moment that Vegita said that, however, he felt as 
if his stomach was about to jump out of his throat.  He shot up, lurched 
forward--and out came part of the food he had eaten earlier.  Bulma, who had the 
foresight to prepare another pan, saved Vegita from throwing up on himself.
        "I hardly call that 'healthy'." Bulma put her free hand on her hip.  "You 
are staying in bed until that fever goes down."
        "Do I have a choice?"
        "Oh...you can leave if you want...But I doubt you'll even make it past 
the door." Vegita was about to retort when he realized that Bulma was right, so 
he said nothing.  Bulma poured some of the cold water from the pitcher into the 
glass and handed it to Vegita, who took it and drank it in one gulp.
        "Just hand me the whole damned thing." Bulma did, and watched in 
amazement as he emptied the pitcher in a few seconds.  "More," he commanded, 
pointing to the kettle.
        "Hold on; this is still too hot.  I'll be right back." Bulma left again, 
taking the pitcher with her.
        Vegita lay back down and wondered what was the matter with him.  He was 
immune, or so he thought, to the Earthling's viruses--and if he wasn't, they 
wouldn't bother him as much as this did did now--so he must have contracted 
something while he was in outer space.
        'Yes, that must be it,' Vegita thought, closing his eyes.  The added 
stress that he put on his body must have caused the virus to begin to wreak 
havoc on his immune system.  'I just need to rest for a while, then I'll be 
fine...' A few moments later, he drifted off to sleep.
        Bulma came back in with two pitchers filled to the brim.  Seeing that he 
was asleep, she put them on the table, then proceeded to clear away the other 
objects.  A moan from Vegita caused Bulma to pause and look at her patient, who 
was sweating profusely but also shivering.  Carefully, as not to disturb him, she 
drew up the blanket at his feet and covered him with it; Vegita grabbed it and 
curled into a fetal position.  Bulma suddenly found herself feeling sorry for 
Vegita.
        "Even a Prince has his bad days, ne?" She whispered to herself, wiping 
away the sweat on Vegita's face.  She examined his expression, always set in a 
scowl, and decided that it was rather handsome.
        'Goodness...' Bulma touched her own forehead.  'I hope _I'm_ not sick, 
too...' She shook her head and walked out of the room.  Just before she turned 
the corner, she darted one last glance at Vegita.


Act Five: Nurse Bulma
        Vegita woke to the sight of a strange woman bending over him with even 
stranger instruments.
        "Don't you dare touch me!" He roared, slapping the things out of the 
woman's hands.  It was only when the woman had removed herself as far away from 
Vegita as the room allowed that he recognized her as a doctor.
        "Vegita, you idiot!" Bulma sighed as she picked the instruments off the 
floor.  She turned to the doctor.  "I'm really sorry about that.  He's been ill all 
day yesterday and hasn't been feeling well."
        The doctor forced a shaky laugh.  "I've lived through worse." She inched 
closer to Vegita and swallowed nervously.  "Shall we try again?"
        Vegita was sorely tempted to tell this lady to go to hell, but he still 
felt awful from what had happened the day before.  Additionally, Bulma was giving 
him evil looks that only made him want to laugh, but he decided to play along.  
"All right."
        Vegita gritted his teeth as he suffered through the indignities of 
having his body poked and prodded by the doctor.
        "Hmm..." The doctor muttered, peering down Vegita's throat.  "Um hmm..." 
she checked his breathing next.  "Um 'hmm'..." she raised an eyebrow when she 
came across his muscles.
        'What am I, some sort of animal?' Vegita thought angrily.
        "Doctor?" Bulma probed hesitantly when the examination finally finished.
        "Other than the unusually high fever and the nausea you mentioned, he's 
absolutely fine!" The doctor replied, putting her equipment back into a bag.  
"Just keep him in bed for a few more days and give him plenty of water and 
rest!" She pulled Bulma acrossed the room and whispered to her: "Just where did 
you find a guy like _that_?"
        Bulma blushed a little.  "It's a long story..."
        The doctor raised her other eyebrow.  "In that case...I won't ask." She 
smiled and winked.  "Take good care of him, okay?"
        Vegita, who heard every bit of this conversation, scowled.  'Women...'


        Being the daughter of the man who practically owned the world had many 
advantages.
        Unfortunately, knowing how to cook was most definitely not one of those.
        "Ptui!" Vegita spat out a mouthful of soup--or, at least, what he 
assumed to be soup.  "You call this crap 'food'? "
        Bulma came dangerously close to clobbering Vegita on the head with her 
wooden spoon.  "So I messed up! It's not like I've been cooking all my life!"
        Vegita eyed the bowl distainfully.  "Have you ever considered tasting 
your poison before you go stuffing it into someone else's mouth?"
        "It's not that bad...is it?"
        Vegita thrust the bowl back into Bulma's hands.  "Find out for yourself."
        Bulma took a tiny, careful sip.
        "Nice purple color you're turning there," Vegita observed with 
amusement.  "It matches your hair well."
        Bulma was too busy choking to reply.  Needless to say, Vegita was spared 
from the same fate.


Act Six: Someone to watch over me
        Bulma locked herself in her lab and began tearing apart an unfortunate 
machine with relentless fury.
        "That ungrateful little bastard!" She muttered to herself.  The 
'ungrateful little bastard' in question, of course, was her unwilling patient, 
who, after he was able to walk again, returned to his training without any word 
of thanks.  In fact, he even insulted her, saying he didn't need to be babied, 
especially by an 'ugly woman who couldn't cook', or so he said.  "The nerve!" She 
had wanted to punch his smug little face in; being unable to do that, she turned 
to venting her anger on an old invention of hers that she had kept rusting in 
her lab.  In almost no time at all, all that was left was nuts, bolts, metal 
panels, LED displays, and silicon chips scattered in several piles on the floor.  
Her anger still bubbling, Bulma moved to dismantle another machine.
        A large explosion sounded outside; the shockwaves shook everything in 
the lab and nearly knocked Bulma off her feet.
        "What...?" She then remembered that the gravity chamber was located 
right next to her lab.  "Oh, no!"
        The gravity chamber was completely leveled, and rubble was everywhere.  
Lying half-buried in it was an unconscious and heavily injured Vegita.  With 
great effort, Bulma managed to pull Vegita out and get him to the company's 
hospital.


        Vegita opened his eyes and found himself wrapped up about as tightly as 
a mummy.  His entire body was sore, and it even hurt to breathe.
        'Damn.  I was so close...' He had almost felt himself transforming, but 
just as he was about to cross that barrier, the room exploded around him, and 
the world went white.  Vegita clenched his free fist.  'Damn...huh?' Out of the 
corner of his eye, he spotted a patch of purple, and turned his head slightly 
towards it.
        Sleeping fitfully with her head on the desk next to Vegita's bed was 
Bulma; it was easy for anyone to see that she had originally been keeping vigil 
before her energy gave out on her.  Vegita had never seen this side of Bulma, 
that behind the loudmouthed, bossy woman was such a fragile creature.  Lurking 
somewhere deep within his subconscience was the other thought that she looked 
rather attractive when she wasn't being a bitch.


        Once again, Bulma locked herself in her lab, this time not to wreck any 
machinery but to hide from Vegita.  Unfortunately for the repair crew, he had 
recovered before the gravity chamber was back to working order.  After a 
disastrous encounter with Vegita earlier, Bulma decided to stay out of the irate 
Saiyajin's way for the rest of the day.
        Reaching over her head, Bulma tried to pull a motherboard out of the 
shelf above her, but it was rather firmly wedged near the bottom of the pile.  
Keeping a hand to steady the pile, Bulma made sure that she had a firm hold on 
the motherboard before giving it a hard yank.  The pile wobbled unsteadily, and 
one of the pieces of junk near the top began sliding down towards her.
        A gloved hand caught the offending piece before it could fall onto her 
head.
        "You should be more careful, woman," Vegita told Bulma, who was 
currently gaping at him.
        The next time Bulma saw Vegita, the insults 'clumsy and stupid' were 
added to his growing list.


Act Seven: Close Encounters of the Weird Kind
        Bulma poured herself another cup of sake and took a big gulp out of it, 
wincing as the bitter alcohol went down.  Her head was beginning to swim, but she 
kept on drinking.
        "Men are all the same," she muttered, her mouth awkwardly moving around 
the words, downing another glass.  Of course, one certain man was in her mind 
when she said that.
        Yamcha.  She actually hadn't minded seeing him again, even if she had 
"thrown" him out.  Besides, that was weeks ago; now, Bulma was in a good mood 
again, and was ready to kiss and make up.
        Yamcha ignored her completely.
        Another mouthful of sake slid into her throat.  "Shtoopid Yamcha," she 
groused.  "Good riddansh! I don' need him anyweeiii..."


        Vegita was returning to his room from his daily practice session when 
Bulma stopped him.
        "Uh-uh, bo-ii," she drawled, wagging a finger.  "You're not goin' 
nowhere."
        Vegita's nose wrinkled when he smelled the alcohol on Bulma's breath.  
"You're roaring drunk, woman."
        Bulma giggled.  "Ishnot."
        Vegita scowled.  "Get out of my way."
        Bulma blocked Vegita's path, her body pressing against his in the narrow 
hallway.  "I shaid, you not goin' nowhere."
        Vegita scowled again as his nose picked up something else.  Not only was 
she drunk, she was in heat, too.  And the woman did not take 'no' for an answer, 
not even when she was sober and hating his guts.  "I don't have time for this.  
Move before I make you."
        Bulma pouted.  "Why, don' you like me?" She traced her finger idly along 
his sweat-soaked shirt.  Was her face red from the alcohol, or was she blushing 
for some other reason?
        "Yes!" Vegita almost shouted.  "I find you highly annoying-ing-ing..." he 
nearly lost his mental footing as Bulma let one stap of her top slip from her 
shoulder, giving him a good view of what was under it.
        She wasn't wearing any undergarments.
        "Liar," Bulma accused, her voice low and sultry.  "Your body shays you 
wan' me.  Bad."
        Vegita gave himself the mental equivalent of a cold shower and pushed 
Bulma away from him.  "I do _not_.  You're ugly, nasty, and a damn nuisance."
        Bulma undid her hair.  The silky purple strands, still a bit curly from 
the perm she gave herself a few months ago, nevertheless cascaded down her back.  
"Really?"
        Vegita squeezed his eyes shut.  His instincts were screaming at him to 
rip her clothes off and have sex with her then and there, and his common sense 
and self-control were slowly eroding.  "Yes yes yes yes! Now go away and leave me 
alone!"
        Bulma shrugged, letting the other strap slip.  "'Fraid not, bo-ii.  You 
have to get pasht me firshhht."
        Vegita never ran so fast in his entire life.


--The next day--
        Bulma rested her head on the kitchen table as she fought the pounding 
therein that threatened her sanity.  The mug of black coffee she downed earlier 
didn't help much, but at least now the caffeine was kicking in and masking some 
of the effects of her alcohol consumption.
        'How much did I drink last night anyway?' Bulma wondered, straining at 
her memory.  The previous twelve or so hours were a complete blur; she could 
neither remember what she did, where she was, nor who she was with.
        At this very moment, as if acting under the direction of some cosmic 
cue, Vegita entered the kitchen and began rooting in the refrigerator for 
something to eat, and Bulma began remembering what had happened.
        'Oh, God...' she thought, horrified, as it all came back to her.  She 
covered her hands.  'I can't believe I actually...God...' she groaned.  'Now 
Vegita will never stop rubbing this in...'
        "Hey!" Vegita's sharp voice startled Bulma out of her self-deprecation.  
"I'm talking to you."
        Bulma gulped and wished that she could disappear, or at least run very 
fast.  "W-what?"
        Vegita crossed his arms.  "Are you deaf? I said, there's no food in the 
fridge and I'm starving!"
        Dread turned into shock, which quickly gave way to anger.  "So? What do 
you expect me to do about it? Cook?"
        Vegita snorted.  "I'd rather starve."
        Standing up a bit too quickly--and nearly regretting it--Bulma stomped 
over to the cabinet, dug out a handful of packages, and threw them at Vegita.  
"Here."
        Vegita frowned at the plastic-covered food.  "What the hell is this?"
        "Instant noodles," Bulma answered, unconciously mimicking Vegita's tone 
of voice.  "All you need to do is boil water.  That's not _too_ difficult, is it?"
        "What do you mean, 'boil'?" Vegita demanded suspiciously.
        Bulma stared at Vegita as if he had sprouted a tail.  "Boil.  You know, 
put a pot of kettle of water on the heater and wait until steam comes up?"
        Vegita looked back blankly.  "You mean you don't just get hot water from 
a faucet?"
        Bulma slapped her forehead.  "Good God, where have they been keeping you? 
Don't you know the difference between water you use for bathing and water you 
use for cooking?"
        "You should talk," Vegita shot back.  "Last night you couldn't even tell 
the difference between me and that loser ex-boyfriend of yours."
        Bulma flinched violently, as if she had been slapped--and indeed, she 
would not have felt any worse if Vegita had actually hit her--and deflated like 
a leaky balloon.  Her headache now grew to a full-fledged throbbing, like a 
troupe of elephants doing ballet to the jackhammers that pounded in her ears.  
Wordlessly, she re-filled the kettle that sat on the table and turned on the 
range, then placed the kettle at the center of the coils.  Next, she brought out 
a large bowl and set it on the table.
        "The instructions are on the package," she told Vegita on her way out, 
her fatigue showing through.  "Don't burn yourself, the water's hot." 
---
I was actually going to cover the entire two-and-a-half year period between Future
Trunks' appearance and the arrival of the Jinzouningen, but I had already wrote a
short story dealing partially with Chibi Trunks' birth.  Additionally, continuing
this story, especially with that scene in Act Seven, would have very quickly turned
it into a lemon, and I have no interest in doing that (writing a lemon, that is.)

If someone really wants to write a "lost" Act Eight, though, write me privately and
we'll discuss it.
---
-"Dot"
Dot-Chan on #fanfic at bachman.newberry.edu (FFIRC Chatroom)
Proud member of CAPOW (Creative Anime Prose Original Writing)

http://www.fortunecity.com/westwood/italian/70
http://members.xoom.com/dotchan (mirror)

"Gendou's greatest desire was to be bitten in half by Unit 01?!?" (A friend, after watching EoE)


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