38. Chapter 38

AN: Another story arc down. Feels nice. Like I've sufficiently set up material that can be used in a future arc. Anyway, enjoy.

"Lunch is served!"

Lincoln turned expectantly as the proprietor and namesake of Gus' Games and Grub wheeled a cart absolutely loaded with doughy, cheesy goodness, and reeled as a tableau of scents assaulted his senses with a force bordering on physical. His world briefly became overcome by the loud, outspoken presence of meats, cheeses, and sauces, to the point where he would later swear that his brain actually shut down temporarily from sheer sensory overload. Even with the threat of mental shutdown looming over him, however, Lincoln couldn't find himself capable of caring about anything other than the pile of sizzling, greasy deliciousness that had been parked next to their booth, and watched eagerly as Gus began to unload his precious cargo.

"Alright then," said Gus, as he went about his work. "That's one Meat Connoisseur, hold the bacon, one Double Cheese Deluxe, extra-extra bacon, one Family Italiano Spaghetti Pizza Special with Meat Crust, one Surf and Turf Pizza with extra turf, and literally just a ham wrapped in pizza. Which wasn't actually on the menu, but I will definitely be fixing that in the near future."

The spread was glorious, there simply weren't words in the English language to describe the array of glistening treasures arrayed before him, aside from possibly some kind of agonized groan, followed by the sound of flatlining. And yet, something was still missing. Lincoln glanced meaningfully at the older man and cleared his throat politely.

"Oh!" Gus kneeled down and rummaged around in the bowls of his cart, producing one final pie. "And one personal pepperoni. Sorry about that."

"Not a problem, Gus," said Lincoln, licking his lips as the pizza was tucked into the last bit of free space before him.

"Let me know if you kids need anything else!" Gus announced, nodding cheerfully at the duo as he wheeled his cart around and headed back towards the front counter.

"You sure that's enough, Linc?" Carol asked, gesturing to his single pie sitting among a veritable forest of dough-based delights. "It's my treat. If you want anything else, just say the word."

Lincoln hesitated. Pizza had long been a weakness of his family, their love of that particular dish (deep or otherwise) seemingly embedded within their very DNA. He found that he was very tempted to take Carol up on his offer, and may very well have done so, if it hadn't been for the fact that there was literally no room left on their table, save for a small corner on each side that had been reserved for each diner's drink. He was about to politely refuse when once again, the tantalizing aroma of meats and cheeses and sauces assaulted his senses.

"I think I'm pretty good here, Carol." He said, indicating his dish. "Though, maybe I could have just a little of your—"

Lincoln cut himself off so abruptly that he nearly swallowed his own tongue, as Carol's eyes noticeably bulged outward and immediately began to rove over the table. They darted from pie to pie with laser-like precision, all while the smallest portion of her tongue rapidly flitted out and periodically lapped at her delicate lips. It was, collectively, a mood, and one which left little, as to her current state of mind, to the imagination.

"I-I mean, it's fine, Carol," he corrected himself, motioning towards the older girl. "I've got plenty."

No sooner were the words out of his mouth, than Carol exploded into motion, her arms blurring as they rapidly lanced out and across the table. She was so fast, in fact, that the only reason Lincoln could tell she was eating at all, was due to the large gashes that would suddenly erupt in the pizzas around him, seemingly at random. One could have easily confused the phenomenon for a very small earthquake localized entirely within the tabletop they were sharing, and Lincoln found himself discretely wrapping one arm protectively around his own dish, and sliding it a little closer to himself. It ended as abruptly as it began, and before long the table, which had once been loaded with steaming delicacies, was now left barren. Save for his own, singular pie, and a smattering of sauce-stained, cheese entrusted dishes.

"Sorry," Carol apologized, her cheeks bulging slightly as a small belch escaped her lips. "I think you were saying...something?"

"Refills," Lincoln announced, a fresh cup of soda clutched in each of his hands. He offered one to Carol and jiggled it slightly, trying to get her attention. Her eyes were wide and glazed over, just as they had been when he'd left her only a few moments prior. Truth be told, after her little display, Lincoln was more than a bit wary of leaving his own, barely touched meal with the older girl, and he was relieved to see his pizza was exactly as he'd left it. Without turning towards him, Carol reached out with one, shakey hand, and feebly tried to grasp the cup. Lincoln slipped it into her hand, then slid into his chair, smiling as the blonde raised the straw to her lips and immediately began to inhale the beverage.

"Thank you, Lincoln," Carol gasped, as life returned to her face. She sat back up in her seat and coughed in embarrassment. "That was a lot of dough."

"It was pizza," Lincoln pointed out, taking a sip from his own cup, and then finally starting on his own meal. "That sort of comes with the territory."

"Just to be clear, I don't normally eat like that," Said Carol. "But I've been putting in a lot of extra hours so I could take this day off, and that meant getting a lot choosier with my meals, and—"

"Carol, it's fine," Lincoln gave her a reassuring smile. "I get it. Lori's a big eater too. You guys have a big job to do, and you work hard at it. It makes sense that you'd need to keep your strength up."

The blonde girl sat up a little straighter as he said that.

"But you do have a little...uh, thing, here," Lincoln added, chuckling as he indicated a spot on his cheek. Again Carol's arm blurred, wiping away the errant bit of sauce that had stained her cheek. Though, strangely enough, even after wiping it off it looked more like she'd smeared it across her face, her cheeks now tinged red with a more prominent shade of red.

"Schow wh—" Lincoln stopped, mentally berating himself, and forced himself to swallow the mouthful of pizza he was working through before continuing.

"So, not that I'm not enjoying this," he began again, forcing himself to put down his slice of pizza, "but what is it we're doing? Lori was kinda vague on the details."

"Well, what has she told you?" Carol asked, glancing around nervously. She needn't have bothered, the dining room was completely empty, save for the two of them. Gus' presence could be felt through the faint sound of his whistling reverberating throughout the building, but otherwise, it was just the two of them. Alone.

"S-she," Lincoln cleared his throat, trying not to dwell on the fact that he was sharing a meal with a gorgeous superheroine, all by his lonesome. Fortunately, a quick glance around the table, taking in the casualties of Carol's appetite, made that much easier than it would have been otherwise. "She said you needed me for some kind of scheme—"

"I really think that's an oversimplification of things," Carol cut in, frowning. "And 'scheme' makes it sound unnecessarily underhanded."

"Alright," Lincoln nodded at her, ceding the point. "How would you put it?"

"I need you to help me trick my parents into thinking we're dating, and by extension, that I'm fulfilling my obligation to my people," Carol said, plaintively.

For a moment, all that could be heard was the sound of whistling, and the unceasing bleeps and bloops of the nearby arcade.

"Uh-huh," Lincoln replied, trying to keep his face neutral. From the way he suddenly found himself incapable of blinking, he was pretty sure he was failing miserably on that front. "That's...uh—"

"Look, just...just let me have this one, okay?" Carol pled, her eyes darting around nervously. "Heroes don't scheme."

"I was actually more focused on the whole...us, dating...thing?" Said Lincoln. "Like on the...why, part of it?"

"Oh, well that's because when Amazons have kids, they only have girls, who are themselves Amazons," Carol explained. "Which, on the one hand is pretty great, because its given us a distinct lineage. An identity and culture that's allowed us to become an actual society, instead of just a bunch of people with the same Archetype. But it comes with the downside that our population would stagnate really quickly and dry up entirely if we didn't get...proactive, about things. So we need to make an effort to bring guys back to the Island on a regular basis to...contribute to the gene pool, so to speak. And Amazons living away from home, like myself, are strongly encouraged to do our part."

"Is that why there's so many tv commercials trying to get people to come visit?"

"Yep," Carol nodded, counting off on her fingers. "And internet ads, mailing lists, placements in periodicals, and so forth. Tourism is literally the lifeblood of our culture. Which is a bit of a problem because our island is also infested with horrific monstrosities, but we make it work. Mostly by putting all the fun touristy stuff in relatively safe, heavily guarded areas."

"Monsters?" Lincoln's brow furrowed in concern, "You mean Soulless?"

"Pfft, no," Carol chuckled. "I mean, yeah, we get them same as anyone, but all natural-born Islanders are Amazons. And when your population is mostly made up of Combat Archetypes, coming across the odd Soulless generally just means you try to kill it before someone else sees it and tries to steal your glory. It's like, recreational activity for us."

Lincoln thought back to his recent outing with Luna and Sam, specifically the part where both girls were gleefully competing to see who could rack up the highest kill count. "Yeah, I can see that."

"The things are basically an endangered species over there," Carol continued. "To my knowledge, there hasn't been a reported sighting of anything more dangerous than a Husk in ages. No, I'm talking about actual monsters. Big things with like, scales, and teeth. Sometimes they breathe fire."

"You have fire-breathing monsters?" Lincoln asked, incredulously.

"I mean, some of them breathe ice," Carol replied. "And lightning. And poisonous clouds. Oh, there's this one, it's kind of like a big crocodile but way bigger, and it eats sand and rocks and stuff, and then shoots it out as a highly pressurized blast of wind and debris and stuff. Hurts like crazy and it sends you flying."

"HOW!?"

Carol frowned thoughtfully. "Well, biology isn't really my thing, but if I remember correctly, it's got a specialized organ that its it break down all the crud it eats, and then—"

"No, no!" Lincoln cut her off, shaking his head emphatically. "I mean how do you live on an Island with something like that?"

"Obviously we kill them," Carol said, pantomiming thrusting a spear into something. "Everything has a weak spot. Sometimes you just need to get through layers and layers of what's basically armored plating to get to it.

"That sounds...kind of impossible," Said Lincoln. "Unless every Amazon is like you, I guess."

"Meaning?"

"Like, crazy strong and stuff," Lincoln clarified. "You're one of the toughest heroes around, and Lori says you're one of the only people she can spar with. So if there's a whole island of you running around, I guess that makes sense."

"Oh. Well, thank you," Carol blushed, clearly pleased by the praise. "But no, not really. Amazons are a hero subtype. We're all stronger and tougher than your average person, but the exact abilities we develop vary from person to person. Just like with any other Archetype, no two Amazons are exactly alike."

"Then how do you deal with stuff like the...crocodile?" Lincoln asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Uh, well, it's kind of like this. Imagine you have a dinosaur and a bear living in your back yard."

"That sounds—" Lincoln halted, mid-protest, as a memory bubbled up of the last time Lori and Lynn fought over the last slice of pizza. And the squadrons of insurance investigators who needed to examine the backyard afterward. "...Never mind. Go on."

"Oh...kay." Carol shot him a confused glance, before continuing. "So like, you've got these two big scary things living with you and making life hard for you. You can't fight the dinosaur, obviously. It's like two-hundred feet tall, anti-tank rounds bounce right off it, and when it gets angry it causes violent thunderstorms for miles—"

"I think we have different ideas about what counts as a dinosaur."

"—But, you're pretty sure you can kill the bear." Carol pressed on, apparently not having heard him. "Because yeah, it's the size of a mini-van and its claws secrete a substance that turns your blood to acid, but it isn't nearly as well armored. So you lure it to an ideal location and ambush it with as many allies as you can gather, and after a hard-fought battle the bear is dead (and hopefully you're not), but all the stuff that was scary about it is still there, it still works. Usually, at least. So you take its claws and bones and whatnot, and make yourself a sword, an axe, and maybe a tasteful hat, stuff that's probably way sharper and more durable than what you already had. It's probably still not enough to kill the dinosaur. But, there's an armadillo just a few yards over that breathes paralytic spores, and now that you have the stuff you made from the bear, you can probably kill that now. So you basically just keep on doing that, until you work your way up the food chain to something that lets you kill the dinosaur." Her explanation concluded, Carol folded her arms over her chest and nodded in satisfaction.

"...I think I understand why the commercials choose to focus on the beaches and fine dining, and stuff." Lincoln deadpanned.

"You haven't lived until you've had steak made from Rage Boar," Carol chirped, "It's so tasty!"

"Ok, so tangents about your culture's..." Lincoln considered his words, trying to find the most diplomatic way to phrase his feelings. "...Terrifying lifestyle—"

"We are a pretty brave bunch," Carol mused.

"Yeah, we can call it that," Lincoln sighed, before pushing forward, "but I was actually wondering why you want me involved in this. I mean, you're trying to make this look believable, right?"

"That's the point of creatively interpreting the truth for my moms, yes," Carol agreed.

"Ok," Lincoln motioned to Carol, and then to himself, taking care to emphasize the substantial difference in height between the pair. "So what about this, seems at all believable?"

"I...don't follow," Carol replied, tilting her head, clearly puzzled.

"I mean, this city is full of superheroes, martial artists, demon slayers. There's, uh...oh, those guys who summon that giant robot with the lion on it!"

"Goltron?"

"No, the other lion-themed giant robot."

"Valtanius?"

"No, the other other lion-themed giant robot!"

"Daodaidar?"

"No! I mean—" Lincoln cut himself off, and took a moment to center himself. "My point, is that there's a ton of eligible guys in this city who could sell this thing, way better than I can. So...I guess I'm asking, why me?"

"Because you're you, obviously," said Carol, staring at Lincoln with an incredulity which implied that the answer should have been obvious.

"Now I don't follow," said Lincoln, shaking his head in exasperation. He was about to continue, but was interrupted by Carol reaching across the table, and gently placing one of her hands over his own.

"You may not realize this, Linc," Carol said, gently, "but in this city, your reputation means everything, and it can be pretty hard to come by."

Lincoln winced, remembering the fallout from his Indexing, which still followed him even today. "Yeah, I know a little something about that."

"I bet you do," Carol nodded sympathetically. "We Combat Archetypes are a pretty competitive bunch. Our job is to protect the city, and everyone who lives in it, but it's also a fact that things are more lucrative the higher up the ladder you climb. Lori and I have pretty big targets on our backs, and there's a lot of people who'd take a shot at them if they could. Basically, there's nobody I trust to play along with this, and not try to use it against me later."

"But you trust...me?" Lincoln pointed at himself. Entirely unnecessarily, but hearing someone like Carol say that about him...it made him question his understanding of the English language, among other things.

"Duh!" She laughed, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Lori's my best friend, and I know that you Louds are all good guys, regardless of Archetype. And for you specifically, well, we've known each other a long time."

"Most of my life," Lincoln admitted. "And you've always been there for Lori."

"And you've always been there for Lori," said Carol, taking her other hand and gently poking Lincoln in the chest. It actually hurt quite a bit, but Lincoln steeled himself, trying to refrain from ruining the mood. "She's told me a lot about what you guys get up to on your own. And I've seen enough of you growing up that I know I can trust you to have my back on this."

"That's...probably the nicest thing anyone's ever said about me, who wasn't already related to me," Lincoln replied, acutely aware that his cheeks were much warmer than they should be. "Or wasn't Sam, who I guess is basically related to me at this point. But still, that means a lot."

"I'm just telling the truth," Carol waved one hand dismissively. "The ancient Amazons had a saying, 'Your arrow only slaughters the foe you're aiming at.'"

"A bit graphic, but I think I get what you mean."

"It loses something in translation," Carol replied, shrugging. "Point is, I trust you to work with me on this. You may not have the Archetype, but you have the heart of a hero."

"It'd probably be more helpful if I had the muscles of a hero," Lincoln added, flexing one arm demonstratively. Or trying to, at least. It may have been a trick of the light, but he was pretty sure his bicep went concave. "Or...laser vision, or something. I still don't see this being an easy sell. You really think your parents are going to believe that you'd decide to date me?"

There was a pause, as Carol looked him over, confusion growing on her face.

"Lincoln," she said at last, carefully enunciating her words for maximum clarity. "Are you not aware that you're kind of a big deal?"

"Only for the wrong reasons," he said, adding what was supposed to be a lighthearted chuckle. To his ears, at least, it came out a bit more strangled than he'd intended. "You know I can't hypnotize girls and stuff, right? Because there's a lot of rumors like that going around, and I—

"Tuxedo Bomber!"

Lincoln abruptly cut-off, mid-self-deprecation, as a familiar voice wafted into his ears. Carol was holding her phone up, and on its screen played the video of his first big fight. His five minutes of fame had come and gone so quickly, that he'd honestly forgotten that was even still floating around. Though, upon closer inspection, this one actually seemed to be a newer version. Or at least, one he hadn't seen before. The video had been edited so that every time he attacked something, a bunch of numbers popped up over its head like it was a fight from a video game or something.

"This guy seems pretty cool to me," Carol said, taking a moment to admire her phone screen before turning back to him. "You know, I have friends back home who've sent me multiple versions of this. I actually prefer the one where they overlay the HUD from Dance Battle on the footage, so it looks like you're doing the steps, but this is a cute idea."

Lincoln felt heat bloom throughout his entire face, and he nervously tugged at his collar, desperate to try and expel some.

"T-that, um", he stammered, "That was kind of a...unique, situation."

"I'll say!" Carol chuckled, "Looks like you racked up quite the body count. I know seasoned warriors who don't have anywhere near as many notches on their belts."

"But they were Husks!" Lincoln protested. "Leni killed the big one! I was just supporting her!"

"By ripping and tearing your way through that horde!" Carol once again turned her attention to the screen, and let out a satisfied sigh. "Music to my ears. You've gotta show me how you did all that with a cane and a flower."

"It's mostly in the wrist." Lincoln replied automatically, "Also, I think there was magic or something involved. But that was just—"

"And didn't you decimate another horde in the Outskirts not too long ago?" Carol asked, finally shutting off the video. "Lori told me about that. I remember because she was really tweaked at your sister over it."

"That was Sam and Luna," Lincoln corrected her. "I only killed a few of them myself. Then I accidentally figured out how to make their weapons...kill...better, I guess, and kind of just let them take the lead."

"And what about throwing down with the Lord of Terror last week?" Carol asked, expectantly.

"I mean, Luan helped. I wouldn't have been able to seal the deal without her," Lincoln winced at the pun that came unbidden to his lips. "But...yeah, I guess in the lead up to that I kind of had to fight him. A little."

"It was way more than a little!" Carol chortled, slapping her knee in mirth. "I was on the other side of the city and I still heard the whole thing! I really wanted to come over and help, but they needed me over there. Turns out my ancestral sword can cut ghosts, who knew?"

Lincoln sighed in defeat. "So what's your point?"

"My point," Carol thumped the table for emphasis, "is that you, Lincoln Loud, if you pardon my language, are a certified badass. And my moms would be thrilled if I brought you home with me."

She leaned over and looked at him dead on, her eyes growing wide, shimmering with heartfelt appreciation. Lincoln reeled as if struck by a physical blow. The expression was uncharacteristically cute on the normally cool, and composed Amazon warrior.

"So please pretend to be my boyfriend so I can get my moms off my back?" She pleaded, inching a little closer to him. "Pretty please?"

Lincoln sighed again, this time out of equal parts frustration, and grudging respect. "Did Lori tell you to do that?"

"She may have let slip that you have a weakness for puppy-dog eyes, yes," Carol admitted, as she slid back into her seat. "But I was also pretty confident, even before that came out, that you're the kind of guy who can't say no to a girl in need."

She offered him her hand, and Lincoln found himself torn. On the one hand, yes, he had a distressingly common do-gooder streak, which seemed to land him in weird, often insane situations far more than it should have. But Carol seemed sincere about needing his help. But that help also required him to play into a pretty big lie. The moral ramifications alone—

"Especially when it comes with an all-expenses-paid trip to one of the world's foremost tourist locations," she added. The next thing Lincoln knew, his hand was clasped around hers.

"Done and done," he said, his brain only catching up as the last of the syllables left his mouth. Still, looking up into Carol's beaming face, he felt reasonably sure he was doing the right thing.

...Like, 70% sure. Probably.

Lori plopped down on the family couch with a loud, self-indulgent groan. She knew, academically, that the aching in her joints was largely in her head, but after the day she'd had, she felt like she'd earned it. Carol's day off came with the caveat that Lori would be covering for her, something that the eldest Loud had been willing to do, albeit reluctantly. But that was before the added complication of Lynn's temper tantrum had been thrown into the mix.

Keeping the younger girl from running off and retrieving their brother had proven to be far more time consuming than she'd planned. It also served as a poignant reminder that, given the recent rise in even stranger and more inexplicable happening than usual, that she really needed to step up her own training regimen. Regardless, when non-lethally subduing Lynn for the umpteenth time had failed to put a damper in the younger girl's misplaced enthusiasm, Lori finally ceded the moral victory, and allowed wiser heads to concoct a resolution. The end result was Lynn being given the "opportunity" to test out Lisa's new stasis chamber, which the young scientist had assured Lori was almost guaranteed to have no lasting effects. At that point, Lori was well past the point where her patrols were supposed to begin, so she'd left the martial artist, still inexplicably struggling against her bonds despite supposedly being frozen in time, and flown off in a desperate bid to cram half a day's work into the other half of the day. Now that the day was over, and the house was still standing (suggesting that Lynn was probably still contained), all Lori wanted to do was sit here, and relax until—

CRASH

—that. Until that happened.

Lori lept from the couch and sprang for the door, flinging it open and settling into a combat stance, ready to defend her family from whatever lay beyond.

She wasn't certain what, exactly she'd been expecting, but the sight of Carol standing in the driveway, still in her civilian clothes, and hefting her own car over her head, was definitely not among them.

"We're back!" Carol announced, jiggling the airborne vehicle.

"We?" Was the question that was forming on Lori's lips, but the sharp honking of a car horn drew her eyes upward.

"Hi, Lori!" Lincoln called out from the driver's seat, punctuating his greeting with another honk of the horn.

"Do I want to know what led to this?" Lori deadpanned.

"Traffic was terrible," said Carol, seemingly content to leave it at that. She gently placed her car down upon the ground, and opened the driver side door.

"Alright Linc," she said. "Fun's over. I'm releasing you back into your sister's custody."

"Okay."

Lincoln slipped out of the car and started towards the house. To Lori's surprise, Carol quickly caught up to him, her own long legged strides far exceeding his, and put one arm around his shoulder. Protectively, or companionably, Lori couldn't tell which, but she wasn't particularly happy about either possibility. Still, she managed to compose herself before the duo reached her.

"I have returned your brother unharmed, just as I swore I would," Carol said solemnly.

Lori made an exaggerated display of looking Lincoln over.

"Seems like he's in one piece," she said, at last, nodding to the Amazon. "Well done, Warrior. I release you from your oath."

Carol turned her attention back to Lincoln and gently patted him on the shoulder.

"Thanks for coming out with me," she said.

"No problem," he replied, smiling up at her. "It was fun."

Lori was positively bursting with questions about what had transpired between the pair, some far more urgent then others. But before she could get into them, Lincoln started towards her, and their gazes met. The next thing she knew, Lincoln was in her arms, and she suddenly found it difficult to care about anything else.

"Welcome home, little bro," she said instead, giving him an affectionate squeeze before she turned her attention back to Carol. "You and me are having a talk tomorrow."

"Yes ma'am," said the amazon, snapping a mock salute.

Carol watched as Lori carried Lincoln off, the latter seemingly entirely at peace with the arrangement. To her surprise, rather than going through the front door, Lori merely pulled the door shut with her foot, and started heading for the side of the house.

"Where are we going, Lori?" She heard Lincoln ask, as the pair began to disappear around the corner.

"I can hear Sam waiting for you at the top of the stairs," came Lori's increasingly faint reply, "So I'm going to take you around back and…"

And that was all she got. Carol stood there a little longer, straining her ears, trying to see if she could make out anything else, but nothing was forthcoming. Apparently, for her, at least, this episode of The Loud House was now over. And she was surprised to find herself feeling strangely melancholic about that.

She, of course, liked spending time with Lori. The eldest Loud was her best friend, so that was a given. When she'd first moved to Royal Woods with her dad, scared and uncertain about her new, unfamiliar environment, it had been Lori who had ended up first extending the hand of friendship to her, and the two of them had been inseparable ever since. And now she'd ended up spending the day with Lincoln, which had been strange, but definitely enjoyable in its own way. She'd been sad when it finally came time to take the boy home. But more than that, she'd been surprised at how...strangely melancholic it had felt to watch Lincoln and Lori walk off together. It was a puzzling sensation, and one decidedly unfamiliar to any she'd ever felt before.

As she was puzzling these feelings out, Carol walked back to her car, grabbed for the handle of the still open car door—

SCREEEEE

—And started in surprise as she was met with the resounding wail of screeching metal. She scanned her surroundings looking for any potential threats the noise might have been heralding, but it seemed as though nothing was afoot. It was only then that she noticed the source of the distress, such as it was.

The door, still clutched in her grip, was now sporting five brand new holes, each one occupied by one of her fingers. She let out a sharp gasp, and after taking one last look around, swiftly picked up her car, and launched herself into the sky.

Carol's face burned as she swung around in mid-air, and headed for home, profoundly embarrassed with herself. Hopefully nobody had seen that. Carol prided herself on being in control of her powers at all times. Bad enough that she'd slipped up at all, but on this day of all days...well.

At least Lincoln hadn't been around to see it.