a.lcohol }{ to clear the M I N D |-finite|

[skytracker]

Sky followed Ros into the bar. A quick glance around told her that it was almost empty, normal for this time of day. She nodded in reply to his thankyou and walked to the bar, barely registering what he had asked. "I'll take a shot of whiskey. The good stuff, 'tender." The look she sent the bartender let him know real quick that if he gave her anything else, her fist would come in contact with his face. She sat on the nearest stool and turned around, leaning back with her elbows on the actual bar and facing the door. It was a paranoia she had. Her father did it, too. She couldn't sit in any room with her back to the door.

Her gaze traveled back to Ensign Stuart, and she smiled. "Armory Officer, huh?" her smile broadened to a grin. "Fun job..." She glanced at the door as someone else walked in, stalling just a few moments more. "I hate to tell you this, but I'm afraid I'm the Chief Tactical Officer. I hope that doesn't change your oppinion of me too much." She didn't figure it would, but she'd been suprised before. She picked up her drink and downed in one swallow, setting it back on the bar and knocking her knuckles against the wood, indicating she wanted another.

"I didn't ask for the job, believe me. It was given to me." She grimaced. "Thank the gods there's at least one capable member of my department." She reached out to shake his hand again. It was a formal intruduction now. "Pleased tuh meet cha. I'm Lieutenant Sky Timber, Chief Tactical Officer of the USS Enterprise." The woman rolled her eyes at the title. "It's actually rather annoyin'."

[jamie]

"Scotch, usual."

Ros sat down next to Sky, and ordered a scotch the way he usually got it- usually a pint or so. He was very rough in his voice too, also conveying a message of maybe violence if his drink was wrong. He was very alcohol-tolerant, probably due to his grandfather. Ros was glad that the bar was as empty as it was, it made things a bit more peaceful. Although, he would've loved to see a bar fight between cadets or between himself and a cadet.

Ros remembered being in a bar fight once, against a human cadet who had thought it apt to insult the Vulcan while he was in a bad mood. The cadet had been in a hospital for a few days, if he remembered correctly. He was brought back to the conversation with her announcing her position. The idea that his opinion would change over such a simple thing as rank made him give out a rough chuckle underneath his breath.

"Fun job, and nah. A drinking buddy is a drinking buddy, no matter the rank. 'specially if we're not on the job."

Ace took his drink and downed it as well, his adam's apple moving a bit under the skin to show that he swallowed it. It was nice and cool to his hot and sore throat. It actually soothed the hurt that he had caused it by yelling at the other guy. Ace knocked on wood nearly the same time as Sky did, although a bit harder, causing a slightly louder ring. He loved the scotch here, it was nearly perfect some days, and today was one of the perfect days. Ace looked at her when she said that she had been given the job, and nodded with a devious grin on his face.

"I highly doubt anyone would ask for the job. Well, 'xcept for me...and if I was thinking of 'suicide by weapons malfunction'."

He shook her hand, a firm handshake by him being presented again. Ros nodded lazily at the title, smirking a bit when she said that the titles were annoying. He had to agree with her about that, actually. Ros let go of her hand to pick up his refilled drink, downing it again with only two swallows this time.

"Ensign Ros Stuart, Armory Officer of the USS Enterprise. Yea, mine's annoyin' too- hope I don't have to say that too often, personally."

[skytracker]

Sky watched him drink with a grin on her face. He was downing scotch like it was nothing. Of course, it wasn't a very strong alcohol compared to some of the shit Sky had drank before, but to down it like that... He appeared to be a seasoned drinker. "Speaking of being a drinking buddy... Can you hold your liquor?" Her grin broadened. The answer was staring her in the face: that gawd-aweful skirt the boy was wearing. He was from Scotland for crying out loud.

Sky had almost forgotten he was Vulcan. The fact was still registered in the back crevice of her mind, but she wasn't really paying much attention to that. She nodded to his comment about suicide. "Sometimes I wonder if I, myself, am suicidal...wouldn't suprise anyone I know." One of her evil, wicked grins spread across her face. Now would be when her family would hide the hair ties. If she put her hair up, she was up to something. It was quite comical to watch, actually.

Her handshake was firm yet again. It was natural for her. One could tell alot about a person by his or her handshake. If it was firm, the person was real. If it was soft, the person was a sissy. If the hand itself was smooth -- and the person male -- then he was probably a sissy. If the hand was smooth -- and the person a female -- one had to look at her face and judge whether or not she would get her hands dirty. It's so much easier to read dudes than it is to read chicks... she thought.

After her third straight-down shot of whisky she ordered her special. There was only three people alive that knew how to make it: Sky, Matt Timber, and this bartender. She'd never tell another soul if she could get away with it. She was handed a glass with a dark red and bright blue concotion in it. She took a sip and grimaced. It burned her throat like hell, but the taste was amazing. Two or three of them would have her drunk off her ass even with her alcohol tollerance. She turned back to her 'friend'.

[jamie]

"Can I hold my- you're talking to a Scotsman!"

Ros looked mockingly shocked, and started to laugh as his surprised grin spread across his face. He rapped on the bar table with his knuckles to get another drink. This was his, what, third pint of scotch. He considered maybe getting a brandy after this, or something a bit harder on his system. Ros watched as an evil grin spread across her face as she said the comment about suicide. He gave a chuckle at the sentence, picking up the glass that had already been refilled. He put his elbow on the table and stared her straight in the eyes. His head was tilted a bit, as he smirked.

"Well- if ya die. I'll drink a bottle of Scotch in your memory."

As if to clarify that point, he downed the entire pint just like he had the first one, and gave a content sigh at the flavor. Yea, the scotch was good tonight, definitely. Out of the corner of his eyes, Ros saw a couple of big, burly guys from the academy come in. The kind of guys that you could usually assume have only enough blood for pumping their huge muscles, not their brains.

Although he wasn't considered a typical super-genius Vulcan, Ros had brains. Ros noticed Sky looking at him and looked back after ordering some whiskey. He was in the mood for a different kind of drink this time, and whiskey was the first thing that came to mind. He hadn't had it in years, but a bit of re-introducing wouldn't be too bad for the Vulcan, so he assumed.

Two of his locks of nearly curly Vulcan hair had started to tickle his ears, and so Ros, while the drink was being made, moved both pieces behind his ears. This exposed their full and pointy length, which was actually just right for a Vulcan of his age. Ros took one gulp of the whiskey that was put before him, smirking slightly as he felt a different taste excite his taste buds. He loved whiskey.

[skytracker]

Sky grinned at his comment. "You damn well better drink to my mem'ry." She took another sip. "Here I am, riskin' my neck for something I could care less about." A grin spread across her face. This was the most fun she'd had in years. And she was sitting with a Vulcan, no less. Not only that, but he was in a kilt! The thought of that made her have to try really hard not to burst into laughter again. A Vulcan in a kilt. The nerve. Vaguely, she wondered what the Vulcan High Command thought about it.

She made a mental note to find out before glancing up as the doors openned. Immediately, her smile broadened. It was just the sort of thing to make her day get even better. She couldn't help but crack her knuckles. Please, Ares... she prayed. Lend me a hand. She really wanted a bar fight. It'd make her feel SO much better to put a rowdy boy or two on the ground and have them cry for mommy.

She watched them intently as they sat down at the back and the bartender got their drinks. Her hearing wasn't what it could be, but that didn't matter. They were talking so loudly she'd be willing to bet spacedock could hear every word clear as day. Without thinking about it, Sky pulled the hair band from her wrist and pulled her hair back. Vaguely, she registered the bartender basically beg her not to start anything.

"Don't worry..." she said with a grin. "I just want to have a little fun." She took on her world-famous I'm-up-to-something grin and stood up to approach the table. In the back of her mind, she hoped Ros would stop her, but she just couldn't help herself. It was in her nature to start trouble, and she'd been in a position where she couldn't for the past almost 4 years. Stupid cops.

[jamie]

Ros was having a lot more fun than he usually did, too. Back at the academy, he was constantly around people who couldn't really hold liquor like he did, and it was a pain carting their drunk-from-one-drink butts back to the dorms. Ros had made sure to start drinking by himself after the first couple of drinking buddy incidents. That's when he started to get into bar fighting, although the majority of the incidents were caused by someone trying to fight him.

Ros had actually gotten in trouble for the one that he'd caused, but he was drunk when that started and couldn't remember a thing after. According to the bartender, he'd nearly knocked the brains out of the cadet who insulted him. Of course, after the incident he and the cadet had actually become friends. The cadet had died in the fight against Nero because he was aboard one of the ambushed vessels. Subconsciously, Ros drank one swig of the whiskey in his friend's memory.

Ros enjoyed a fight, but didn't really seek it out. He just wanted to enjoy the sweet taste of alcohol, instead of enjoying the bitter taste of blood in the mouth or bruises. Besides, he really couldn't fight without some injury to himself, he noted to himself with a slight movement of his bandaged hands. Ros did have one technique that his grandfather had taught him that would stop a fight in his tracks- the Vulcan neck pinch. Although he used it rarely, he was very proficient in it. Ros was still smiling, but was starting to get annoyed by the big, burly men at the table in the back of the bar.

"Great gatsby, have those guys ever heard of 'inside voice'. No," he stated rhetorically to himself, glaring at one of the guys who glared back at him.

They were louder than T'Pia's parents, and that was saying something in and of itself. He had noticed early that Sky was ready for a fight, and he smirked into his glass of whiskey. Ros downed the rest of the glass, knocking on the bar table for another glass. He rather liked this new kind of whiskey that the academy was peddling. Ros wondered if maybe they could somehow get it onto the Enterprise. Something for those long, boring days where there was nothing to do but play cards, lose money, and drink your heart out. Literally.

"Knock them out," Ros said with a devilish grin towards Sky after she told him that she wanted some fun. He wasn't going to stop her, as he had stated in his mind earlier.

[skytracker]

Sky really wanted to kick some punk's ass, so she liesurely strolled across the bar. Smoothly sliding into the bench next to one of the guys she put on her most innocent smile. "Hey boys." She batted her eyelashes and played the 'dumb blond' rutine. It was astounding how well it worked with guys like this. They responded exactly like she had planned. After all, what were a bunch of guys who had less than air as a brain supposed to do with a beautiful girl in her early twenties just sat down and said hello? There weren't many options.

Of course, the guy next to her slid his hand onto her thigh. She smiled at him, remembering to bat her eyelashes and gently pushed his hand away. "Now, now. We mustn't touch, boys..." she giggled. "That's not nice." She took a sip of her drink -- which she had brought with her, of course. It was absolutely amazing at how well this down home countryfied Texan female could play the air-headed cheerleader. It was only a few moments before the idiot next to Sky laid his hand on her body once more.

In the amount of time it would've taken to get another drink -- which, with this bartender, was not very long -- she had the boy out of the booth, over a table, and laying on his stomach with his arms behind his back and her knee between his thighs, threatening his manhood. "Now, honey," her voice returned to its usual husky Texas drawl. "I told ya. Don' touch a woman 'for she tells ya yeh can." The lieutenant already felt better.

She stood up and brushed her hands on her jeans. "There now, I feel better. Don't you?" A grin spread across Sky's face as she turned. A large gust of air escaped her lungs as something hit her hard in the chest. One of the other boys had jumped up to come to his friend's aid. His strength, and the low way he had attacked made it nigh impossible for the young tactical officer to do much. Her heel came down on his shin and her elbow into his gut, but this boy had the muscle to ignore both. Her comm beeped. She looked up in annoyance as the first guy she sent flying stood up and tried to hit her.

Sky sent one foot into his face, and he didn't get back up. Unfortunately, the same was not to be said for the guy holding her. She couldn't get out of his grasp, no matter what she tried. His arm was around her neck and it was slowly cutting off her breathing. Shakilly, she openned her comm. "Timber, go ahead." The reply was a mostly static so she put the comm back in place. "Stuart!" this wasn't a time for informalities.

[jamie]

Ros watched as she charmed the guys, and one of the men made an inappropriate move against her. He would have gone up and hit the man himself, but it looked like Sky was in control. For now. Ros noticed her attitude changing to that of a airy-headed goat of a teenager, and he couldn't help a devious smile that appeared again on his face. He knew what was going to happen if the man put his hand on her thigh again, or did anything else inappropriate. Ros knew she was going to kick his ass, and he was right, mostly.

Ros gave a silent clap as she put the other man on the table and threatened him. He watched as she moved away from the guy on the table, and looked a bit better until the other guy punched her. Ros lifted both eyebrows and moved quickly to abandon his chair and walk over to the fight. He stepped back one step in his advancement when Sky kicked back the first man, thinking she could take care of the other. However, he was proven wrong when the other man took her in his grasp.

Ros gave an annoyed sigh at the bulk of the man and counted his options. Out of all the hand-t0-hand combat training he had, a Vulcan nerve pinch seemed the best option. As he approached the strangling goon and the captured Sky, both of his eyebrows were raised and his hair was messily covering his ears again, due to a bit of movement from the chair to the place he was standing right now. The guy turned around to see the Vulcan standing there. Ros smirked, provoking the goon a bit. The goon laughed, still holding Sky captive.

"Oh- what are you going to do, little lady? You can barely hold a baby bottle with those skinny-"

In one second, he was down and out thanks to a good ol' fashioned Vulcan nerve pinch. Something he had learned from being around T'Pia's parents since his grandfather didn't like the pacifist ways of fighting. Ros thanked the guy mentally for being such a long talker. That was rare in a guy with no brains. There was full-blown rage in his face for being called a girl. He was in a KILT, not a SKIRT. Ros did not look ladylike, in his own opinion. He did manage to calm down a bit after the guy fell unconscious, letting out a sigh and scratching his head, once again accidentally uncovering his Vulcan ears. Ros looked at Sky again, and had a half angry, have devious smile, saying:

"Please, Ros outside of work. Stuart makes me sound like a geek."

[skytracker]

Sky dropped to the ground in a whoosh of air. She knew what move her friend had used. It had a specific name, but it was in Vulcan and Sky had no intention of learning a language when the planet didn't even exist anymore. It was merely a two-finger pinch where the shoulder meets the neck. A human was strong enough to be capable of accomplishing the desired effect -- an unconcious opponant -- but Vulcans, with their superman-like strength were much more adept.

She held her hand out to shake Ros's. It was only a thankyou though her face showed a look of irritation. "Thanks," she said roughly. "I could've handled it myself. I wasn't really calling for help." She turned and glared at the other guy sitting at the table. She was daring him to try something stupid. As predicted, he didn't. Turning, her eyes surveyed the mess her little bar fight had caused. She grinned; amazingly, only one table had been broken. "Sorry, bartender." Without a second thought, she placed a wad of cash on the bar. It was the honest thing to do, and Sky had never been called dishonest. She wasn't about to start now.

There was more than enough cash there to buy four or five of the tables, but Sky didn't care. For the next few months, she'd be in space and there'd be less than no need for any money. Everything would be handed to her: a place to sleep, something to do, three meals a day, and whatever else she could think of. Maybe the Expanse wouldn't be so bad afterall. Turning back to Ros, she smiled. "Sorry. Ros. You probably wont have to get used to 'Stuart'...I've been known to speak informally in some of the most formal of occasions." A shrug and that was that.

[jamie]

Ros gave out a small chuckle, shaking Sky's hand. He interprited it as a thanks, and didn't think about the rest of the sentence, really. Ros would have probably said the same thing if he had been rescued by her, anyway.

"No problem."

He lifted one eyebrow as a result of her looking back at the last big, burly man sitting in the bar and smirked when he didn't do a thing. Coward. As evil as that thought sounded in his head, it was true in some ways. Both of his eyebrows set back into their normal position as he turned his eyes to the bartender's face. The bartender was obviously not pleased with the broken table, but accepted Sky's money gratefully.

Ros was glad that she at least paid for the destruction that happened, although he probably wouldn't have really cared if she didn't. The guy semi-brought it on anyway. The taste of the whiskey came to his mind again and he put his elbows on the bar, with his right leg crossing behind his left leg as he called out to the bartender.

"'ey, the whiskey that you served me. Happen to have an extra bottle? Y'know you owe me one bottle of something or another."

Ros remembered that time fondly. The bartender hadn't gotten a shipping of scotch in a while, and so Ros had provided one of his bigger bottles. They had agreed that Ros was owed one bottle of a drink. Since it was debatable, at least in his own head, whether or not he'd get back from the Enterprise alive, due to his reckless attitude, he wanted a good bottle of something or another to drink. The bartender brought back a glass bottle that was decently size, and Ros thanked him, even putting down some money on the table. He didn't really need money, anyway, where he was headed. He made sure the screw on top was secured before picking it up with a pretty strong grip.

With a bit in innate grace, he stood up from his former position, bottle in hand. Ros looked at Sky's face and noticed her smile, smiling himself. He lifted one eyebrow and drank some of the whiskey straight from the bottle itself.

" 'ope so, personally."

[arc]

He had searched everywhere. The quarters, the recreational facilities, the halls, and the entire academy, from the lawn to the dorms. Uhura was nowhere to be found, and the last place that Spock would have ever thought to look would be the local bar. For some reason, however, he felt the need to try his luck inside. She had been known to frequent the bar at times, when there was nothing better to do, and the least he could do was try. Spock supposed his human instincts had kicked in. Why had he even bothered to track down Uhura? What was the use? Either way, he had decided to try and locate her after she had left the ship's bridge, and he'd had no luck so far. Checking the local bar was his last resort.

Upon entering the overly-crowded bar, Spock was greeted by a bar fight. Just his luck . . . And it seemed to be between a group of men and a woman - a woman he recognized as a Lieutenant of the USS. Enterprise. Spock couldn't quite recall her name, but that didn't really matter anyways. His mind was set on finding Uhura, not dealing with a bunch of drunks. Trying to avoid the fight, Spock slid his way past a crowd of onlookers, making his way towards the bar, all the way allowing his gaze to roam over the crowd in search of the one he was looking for, to no avail. If she wasn't here, where else could she be? The answer to that question alluded him.

After the fight had ended, with the woman Lieutenent being the obvious victor, Spock took a seat next to an oddly dressed young man. He didn't bother to look at him; Spock really didn't care who he was. Instead, he leaned over the bar, looking to the left and right for Uhura. Still no sign of her . . . That aggravated him. Finally, Spock decided to try a different tactic. Instead of searching for Uhura, he would ask around - see if anyone knew where she was. Most of the Enterprise's crew knew who she was; maybe someone could help him. Spock finally settled on asking the man next to him, who, upon further inspection, Spock discovered was wearing a kilt.

"I am searching for Lieutenant Uhura. Do you know where she may be?" The kilted man might be drunk. He wasn't a very logical choice for questioning, but it would have to do. The man on Spock's other side had passed out soon after the fight, his head lying limply upon the table before him. He would certaintly be of no use to Spock. The Vulcan Commander didn't bother with an introduction; he didn't really wish to befriend the man.

[skytracker]

Sky was dumbfounded when yet another Vulcan walked into the bar. Her mouth dropped open. Not just any Vulcan, but the one that had made that aweful, horrid, stupid, unwinnable test that everyone had to deal with. The only person to ever beat it was the captain of the Enterprise, and he cheated. She shook her head in wonder. Why would Commander Spock be in a bar!? She watched him look around, barely noticing the bottle of whiskey in her friend's hand.

Sky, personally, didn't like Spock. She'd never met him, but his test alone made Sky dislike him. There was something about the way her walked, and the way he looked at other people that had her wanting to punch him in the face. Of course, most Vulcans looked and acted like that. Seeing as how, they still thought they were better than anyone else. It suddenly dawned on her that he had walked in before the fight ended. She sent a look to Ros that said, "Oh, shit!" and took a deep breath. Fighting like that was something that could get you demoted, and she wouldn't put anything past a Vulcan.

Taking a deep breath, she walked to him, just hearing his question. Her eyes traveled to his pointy ears then to where Ros's were covered. At least, she thought they were covered. She hoped they were. Goodness knows what an upstanding 'Vulcan' would do if they saw another of their kind drinking, watching a bar fight, and wearing a kilt...all at the same time. She smiled politely at the commander. "Ain't seen her," she said without slurring her words. She wasn't that drunk.

[jamie]

Ros was enjoying his bottle of whiskey, and was near to becoming a bit tipsy with it, honestly. His hair had been itching his forehead a bit, for no reason at all, so he messed with his bangs a little bit. Accidentally exposing his Vulcan heritage through the characteristic eyebrows. In fact, he hadn't noticed Commander Spock in the bar until an "Oh Shit" face on Sky brought him to turn his head. He was, by this time, leaning on the bar, although standing, having moved off his seat after he got on because he was restless. In response to Spock being in the bar, Ros didn't really give a response like Sky, although he took another big gulp of whiskey while raising both of his eyebrows.

He watched the man sit next to him, and Ros didn't bother to move at all, even under the slightly creepy emotionless gaze of an average Vulcan. He was simply too lazy too. Ros wasn't going to let someone chase him off his place. Besides, he had the good old intuition that Commander Spock wasn't here to cause any harm. Ros counted a 'point' for himself in his head for guessing correctly as the Commander asked where Lt. Uhura was. Ros knew who she was, having walked past her a few times and overheard the name from a few friends of his. He didn't have any idea where she was though, and was about to answer when Sky caught his attention yet again.

Ros saw Sky's eyes travel to his ears, and didn't put anything in his head about the look. He was starting to become a bit blurry mentally, but it hadn't really affected his decision making all that much...yet. Ros looked over at the commander after taking another drink of the whiskey, and smiled, saying in a Scottish accent very untypical of a Vulcan:

"I 'aven't seen her either, C'mmander"

Despite the alcohol, his voice also remained unslurred. Tanak had taught Ros how to sound sober even when he was drunk off of anything. That, and good old fashion Vulcan diction that T'Pia's parents had taught him helped. It hadn't even crossed his mind what the implications would be for himself, as a Vulcan, to be caught in his semi-native dress, drunk off his mind, and watching a bar fight. Ros just wanted to return to drinking as soon as possible.

[arc]

Looking to the right, Spock studied the kilted man and the Lieutenant briefly before turning his head to stare in front of him once more. Well, so much for his bright idea. Ask the locals – that had really worked for him. No one, including Spock, knew where Uhura was. But at least the two next to him weren't completely drunk, judging by the lack of slurred words and the look in their eyes. Spock knew enough about alcohol to realize that a slurred dialect and a glazed look meant trouble. These two displayed neither. Spock was neglecting his duties by not getting onto the two for starting the bar fight. They were his charge, after all, but he was too preoccupied to care at the moment. They should count themselves lucky that the Commander wasn't in the mood for reprimanding his officers.

As Spock turned his head once more to say something, he caught sight of the slanted eyebrows beneath the man's hair. So, he had Vulcan heritage, did he? It was easy enough to tell a Vulcan apart from a human. Spock hadn't been paying attention to the man's facial features before. A kilted Vulcan, drinking a bottle of whiskey? What was the galaxy coming to? If Spock had been in the mood for “reprimanding his officers”, he would have snapped at the man, but the Commander somehow managed a calm-sounding tone of voice.

“Would you mind telling me how a Vulcan crew-member of the USS. Enterprise found it logical to fraternize with the local drunks?” Spock completely ignored the woman Lieutenant, instead focusing his attention upon the still nameless Vulcan who sat next to him. He was curious to know the answer to the man's question. What Vulcan, in their right mind, would make such a decision? It made no sense to Spock, who still didn't even completely understand the behavior of humans.

Had he been in the mood for “reprimanding his officers”, Spock would have not only snapped at the kilted Vulcan, but demote him as well. This man should consider himself very lucky this day, now that Spock's mind was focused on more important matters.

[skytracker]

Sky had completely forgotten about the slanted eyebrows of a Vulcan. She hadn't even thought of it. The girl was too busy trying not to laugh at the elf ears. She watched as the note of recognition came over Spock's face. Oh, great. Perfect. Here we go. She watched as Ros didn't even budge. Must be the damn Vulcan in him. He has to have more blood than just Vulcan...none of them would dream of looking as ridiculous as Ros Stuart does right now. Sky almost started laughing again.

The girl stopped dead in her tracks. Spock had spoken. "Excuse me!? "Local drunks"!? You mutha-fuckin' bitch!" she was almost screaming. "If I were actually drunk as you, in your infinite wisdom, seem to believe I am, I'd take the bottle of whiskey he has--" she indicated Ros's drink, "--and break it over the back of your go' damn head! And is there a problem with a Vulcan assigned to the USS Enterprise drinking!? If we're off duty, we can pretty much do what we want, ass hole. I'm sorry if your self-holy beliefs are clouding your judgement."

Sky was pissed. No, Sky wanted to pull her phaser and stun the male for what he had just done. "I cannot believe I have to report to an embecilic racist bastard such as you. It's sickening..." She paused long enough to take a breath. "...sir." She took another long drink from her glass and set it down, still far from drunk off her ass. A glance at the bartender let him know that she didn't want or need another. Sky sent another scathing look at the commander. Oh, she was pissed.