All language subtitles for John Wick - Chapter 4 (2023).en

"I am the way
into the city of woe."

"I am the way into eternal pain."

"I am the way
to go among the lost."

"Before me, there were no created things."

"But those that last forever."

"As do I!"

"Abandon all hope
you who are about to enter here."

You are now in the presence

of the motherfuckin' king!

You ready, John?

Yeah.

Move! John Wick!

Mr. Wick.

To what do I owe the pleasure?

My ring.

My freedom.

Your ring is gone,

like The Elder before me.

And if you came here thinking
you could end this by killing me,

then you are mistaken.

My death will not change the outcome
any more than you can change your nature.

None of us can escape who we are,

and no one escapes The Table.

And the only way John Wick will
ever have freedom or peace, now or ever,

is in death.

I know.

I'm afraid you've come a very long way

for nothing.

Yeah...

not really.

The manager, please.

A Harbinger is here to see you, sir.

This must be a mistake.

There is no mistake.

By order of the Marquis,
Vincent Bisset de Gramont,

this hotel has been condemned.

You have one hour.

He is expecting you.

Can they do this, sir?

The decree is signed
by the 12 members of The Table,

giving the Marquis
the power of autem imperator

which means he is now
our judge, jury and...

Evacuate the hotel.

Ned Kelly's final words

as the hangman slipped
the noose around his neck were

"Such is life."

"Such is life." Can you imagine
the acceptance, the defiance?

Today is not the day you will die.

Of that, I am sure.

You have the unshakeable faith
of David, my friend,

but you shouldn't be here.

This will not be pleasant.

Such is life, sir.

My father used to say,

"How you do anything
is how you do everything."

Called it the first
and the last rule of life.

You believe in rules...

Mr. Manager?

Oh, I do.

And what of consequences?

Of course.

And second chances.

Ah. That's where we differ,

you and I.

Second chances

are the refuge of men who fail.

Mmm.

There are those on The Table

who blame this, um, atrocity on New York.

They believe it's this city.

The Table has indulged this
fucking place for too long.

And look where that has gotten us.

I shot him.

And yet he lives,

polluting everything he touches.

Marquis, respectfully, my hotel...

Your hotel?

If I might, sir?

By all means.

The Continentals
and their management are a reminder

to all who sit beneath The Table

that none of us are above the rules.

And yet we are here.

Sir, Mr. Wick...

We're not here because of John Wick!

He is simply the face
of your failure, Mr. Manager.

The sand in that glass is merely an echo
of my remaining patience.

You are no longer New York.

You are nothing.

You are Excommunicado.

And as such...

You no longer need
the services of a concierge.

It has been an honor,

my friend.

It should have been me.

Yes.

But it wasn't.

Now, you think about why that is,

and perhaps one of us will have
benefited from this conversation.

I have a name for you.

Respectfully,

I'm retired.

Finished. Done.

I disagree.

I'm no use to you.

Or The Table.

That's not for you to decide.

I think you should find someone else.

You came close.

Today.

Too close.

You put her in danger.

I know the deal I made.

A former associate, I believe.

He was.

And a friend.

Hmm.

The agreement
with The Table stays the same.

We give you a name,

you give us a life.

Or...

we take one.

I will serve.

I will be of service.

Excellent!

I assume you have a notion
of where he might be?

John Wick has
few friends remaining in the world,

and even fewer he trusts

with his life.

Very, very good.

Welcome to the Osaka Continental.
How can I help?

Yeah, I'm lookin' for a room.

I'm afraid
this facility doesn't allow animals.

Emotional support animal.

- She's your support animal?
- Other way round.

I'm hers. Isn't that right?

She stays in your room.

Enjoy your stay, sir.

It's not too bad.

Not bad at all.

There is a dog in my lobby.

- Emotional support animal.
- Of course it is.

Tomorrow's schedule. Mr. Suzuki at 11:00

and the Tarasovs are
requesting an audience at 2:00.

What's this at 8:007?

Dinner with your daughter.

She says she's concerned
you've been working too hard.

What must I have done
to deserve such a considerate child?

- Good karma, I suppose.
- Indeed.

And how are our guests?

Some of our gold club members are anxious.

It's always something.

And today it's New York.

- And my concierge?
- Concerned.

Perhaps we should get you
an emotional support animal.

We've done nothing to offend The Table.

Your relationship
with Mr. Wick is no secret.

The Table will come.

And...

will be met with our grace.

Everything he touches dies.

Forgive me, Father.

Akira.

Please tell my daughter
that I look forward to our dinner.

Apparently not.

Killing the Elder was a mistake,
my friend.

Their response was the destruction
of the New York Continental.

My daughter fears we are next.

Winston?

Alive, but they executed his concierge

to prove a point.

Have you given any thought to

where this ends?

The Table will never stop.

You know this.

It only takes life

and only gives death.

Koji...

Friendship means little
when it's convenient.

Welcome to the Osaka Continental.
How can I help?

The manager.

Por favor.

Of course.

Please, make yourself comfortable.

The only path this leads to is death.

I'm going to kill them all.

I believe you'll try.

But no one,
not even you, can kill everyone.

You want to die?

That's your choice.

A good death

only comes after a good life.

You and I left a good life behind
a long time ago, my friend.

Father, The High Table.

What is he doing here?

Mr. Wick is our guest.

Father...

I'll talk to them.
They don't know you're here.

Stay with Mr. Wick.

Hai.

Welcome to the
Osaka Continental, gentlemen.

How may I be of service?

The Table has reason to believe

that this facility is providing services...

That is a grave accusation.

We will require full access to your hotel.

Of course.

But as you are well aware,

no business,

not even your kind of business, may be
conducted on Continental grounds.

So, I'm going to have to ask you
to surrender your firearms.

We speak for the Marquis.

And I speak for Osaka.

Your guns, please.

Don't repeat the mistake
that fool in New York made.

Fools talk, cowards are silent

but wise men listen.

So which one will you be?

Hello,

old friend.

So good of you to visit
after all these years.

- You are with them now?
- No.

- No.
- Your daughter?

Mia?

Alive.

And your daughter Akira?

Well.

I'm glad.

You know...

we don't have to end this with blood.

Then leave.

No one defies The Table.

I remember once you understood that.

And I remember a time

when you understood
the meaning of brotherhood.

Enough!

By order of the Marquis de Gramont,

this hotel has been deconsecrated.

Step aside.

Don't do this, Koji.

I'm sorry.

Get out.

Secure the hotel.

Find Wick.

If they find you here,
The Table will kill my father, me,

everyone, because you broke the rules.

You shouldn't have come.

You armed?

Hai.

Hey!

Blind man!

Do your job!

Akira!

Get out the way you came.

- Go to the Umeda Station.
- I'll stay.

Don't insult my gift to you.

And, John, do me a small courtesy.

John?

Caine.

They gave you my name.

Yeah.

I'm sorry.

Me too.

You should have stayed out.

For all our sakes.

I tried.

Did you?

Come on, John.

Let's get this shit over with.

Yeah.

That sounds like a good idea.

You took a deal.

Same as you, John.

Family?

Family.

You dead, John?

John.

Caine.

John Wick, open...

John Wick...

Damn, Johnny.

This is quite the mess you've made.

I don't know you.

But I know you.

You a tracker?

How much?

Not enough.

But it's gettin' there.

I need you to take better care
of yourself, Johnny.

'Cause we're in this together now.

All right, Koji.

Just tell me where John is
and get out of here.

Leave.

Go somewhere far away.

You know I won't.

You owe John Wick nothing.

He has no marker on you.

You must have fallen far

to believe the only debts we have

lie in markers.

Come on.

I don't want to do this.

Father!

Look at me.

Even a blind man knows you have lost.

And, Caine,

you don't need eyes to see the right path.

Just take care of your daughter.

I...

I am.

No!

Don't.

Live.

I'll be waiting for you.

Who is he?

He was a friend.

My father is dead because of you.

Because of what you did.

So either you kill him...

or I will.

I understand.

Goodbye, Mr. Wick.

Thanks for coming.

Well, us homeless folk do have
to stick together now, don't we?

I need to speak to him.

Last time you spoke to him,

you shot him off a roof.

I had no choice.

They held all the cards.

No.

But who held the gun?

John needs to know the breadth
of what's coming at him.

This Marquis is unrestrained.

The Table have let him off the leash.

Oh, my dear Winston,
your benevolence is touching!

But tell me. Tell me true.

Why did the Frenchman let you live?

Killing a man can turn him into a martyr.

Letting him live...

tells the world he's a coward
or a turncoat.

So what are you?

Aggrieved.

I fail to see how laying waste
to Continentals

is getting you closer
to killing John Wick.

This campaign is not to kill John Wick.

It is to kill the idea of John Wick.

And to do that, I must destroy
everything that idea touches.

The bloodshed in Osaka was not necessary.

The bloodshed was the point.

He'll make it your choice.

You, come with me.

Think twice before accepting.

And you are?

Nobody.

Coyness, Mr. Nobody,

is a pathetic trait.

A miscalculation,
in which by trying to hide our ego,

we let it appear stark naked.

I will ask only once.

How were you able to locate him?

Pay and I'll tell you.

How much would such a service be worth?

Twenty-five million,

plus a matching contribution
to my 401k when he's dead.

Hmm.

We found him once.

We'll find him again.

Is that before or after
he puts you in the ground?

I like you.

Twenty million.

Like me some more.

Twenty-three.

- Ego, Mr. Nobody.
- Mmm.

It's 23.

You clearly can afford it.

- For the service.
- Mmm-hmm.

Fuck!

No, no, no. No. It's okay.

Hey, it's okay. Sit. Sit.

What the fuck is this, man?

A choice.

You can pull the knife out
or you can pull your hand out.

One shows me
a man committed only to himself,

and the other,
a man committed to the cause.

Which one are you?

Winston.

Jonathan.

My condolences.

He was a good man.

Yes, he was.

Taken for our sins.

Who is this?

The Marquis de Gramont.

Elevated only by his guarantee
of killing you.

All the resources of The Table
are at his disposal.

Where do I find him?

Paris.

Where will it end?

Huh?

With him dead.

Oh. And then?

Hmm?

Have you learned nothing?

They will replace him
before the body's cold.

Hercules had his Hydra.

You have The Table
except you'll run out of bullets

before they run out of heads.

Kill him, but do it the smart way.

And get him to give you your freedom.

How?

Turn his rules
and consequences against him.

Challenge him to single combat.

High Table duels are a myth.

Wrong!

They're a cold hard fact,

and part of the foundation of The Table

to stop its more combustible members
from outright war.

It's also, win or lose,

what you say you want,

a way out.

I don't sit at The Table.

Your family does.

Get them to issue the challenge
and then offer you up as proxy.

I don't have a family.

The Ruska Roma tore my ticket.

Then I suggest you get your ass to Berlin

and get it mended.

Or...

pick a plot.

What do you get out of this, Winston?

What you were so good
at getting, Jonathan.

Revenge.

Hmm.

Nice suit.

Speak.

He's in Berlin, at the Ruska Roma.

You can wire that finder's fee now.

No.

Excuse me?

Kill John Wick and you'll get your money.

That wasn't part of our deal.

The deal was for your service.

And it's now a life for a life,
Mr. Nobody.

Yours or his.

When it's done, you will have your prize.

And your pension.

Asshole.

Jonathan Wick?

You are forgetting

we are still under The Table.

And last I checked...

you are Excommunicado
and your ticket was torn.

You have no business with us.

Pyotr is dead!

After you put a bullet
in The Elder's head,

the Marquis had one put in Pyotr's.

And in fine Russian tradition,

he sent us the bill.

Because of you,

I had to kneel in front of the man
who murdered my father.

Then we have a common enemy.

We can help each other.

You can't even help yourself.

How the hell are you going to help us?

By killing this Marquis.

They just appoint another.

It does if I kill him in a duel!

How many did you Kill to get out?

A lot.

You will only have to kill one
to get back in.

The bastard who murdered my father.

Give me the name.

Killa Harkan.

You will find him at Himmel and Hölle.

When he's dead, I will mend your ticket.

And the Crest?

Harkan first, then we talk.

Bring proof of death.

I'll need a way in.

I know a way.

Klaus will take you.

I am Klaus.

- John.
- I am Klaus.

Please tell your mistress
that I am honored by this gesture

and I look forward
to our continuing partnership.

I am Klaus.

Mr. John Wick in the flesh.

The Baba Yaga.

Must be Christmas, ja?

Where are my manners? Please.

A drink, Mr. Wick?

You were expecting me.

Not me.

Him.

John?

How are you?

You knew I'd be here.

I suspected it.

Family.

That family sold you out, Mr. Wick.

They gave you up
in the vain hope of saving themselves.

You see, that's why
I never trust the Cossacks.

They are dirty people.

This is personal.

I sense tension here.

Mr. Wick may probably feel

I'm responsible for the death of a

mutual friend.

But I didn't kill Koji. You did, John.

You know,
this discord between old friends,

it saddens me.

Allow me to help.

Nein.

We have a deal.

Had.

The Marquis.

Hell, I doubt he'll mind if it's bullets,
blades or a blind man.

Is this for me, Mr...

Nobody.

And, no, it's actually for him.

Then take a seat, Mr. Nobody.

Exciting, ja?

So, you want to kill him.

You want to kill him.

I want to kill him.

What about you, Mr. Wick?

I'm going to kill you.

Oh.

For Pyotr. Of course, ja.

But it looks like we have ourselves, uh,

a genuine conundrum.

A quandary, if you will.
A real-life dilemma.

So...

How about we play a game? One hand.

The winner decides who lives...

and who does not.

All right. What's the buy-in?

More than you can afford.

Yeah, I'm one bullet away
from being a very rich man.

Or a dead one.

Five-card draw.

Mr. Wick.

Mr. Wick?

Dead man's hand, Mr. Wick.

Well...

I don't gamble.

Let's see.

Four nines. And a four.

Most impressive.

Ah. Royal flush.

Pretty good for a nobody.

Thank you.

A blind man, a guy with a dog

and John Wick walk into a bar
and take a seat at the table.

That either sounds like the beginning
of a stupendous joke

or a most profitable opportunity.

One thinks he can serve his way out.

One...

thinks he can buy his way out.

And one...

thinks he can kill his way out.

Each of them all think
that they have the winning hand.

But what they fail to realize

is that the moment they took
a seat at The Table...

they had already lost.

Let me guess. Five of a kind?

Yeah.

Just so you know,

Pyotr wasn't personal.

Now, maybe a little bit.

Kill!

Hey! He's over there!

Nuts!

Know what your problem is, Mr. Wick?

You are unlucky.

Unlucky in life,

in love,

in friendship,

and now...

in death.

Killa!

Why don't you just die?

He's mine.

I told you not to take a deal.

Yeah, I guess your deal
didn't work out either, huh?

Huh?

Hell of a thing for them
to take your eyes, though.

They didn't take them.

I gave them.

The Ruska Roma
will support your challenge.

Who will be your Second?

A warning of the cost of tyranny.

You must intend to join your concierge.

Not today.

Per the Old Ways and the old laws,

John Wick calls you to a duel.

To settle your differences
the old-fashioned way,

as gentlemen should.

You speak of the Old Ways
as if you know them.

A man of Mr. Wick's station
cannot issue such a challenge.

He has his family's crest.

Hmm.

Berlin.

Ruska Roma challenge, the acceptance
of Mr. Wick back into the fold,

it's all there.

Recorded history now.

And why would I accept this
from a second-rate seat?

Because there are rules,
and without them...

- We live with the animals.
- Exactly.

Mm.

Times are changing.

A new day is dawning.

New ideas, new rules,

new management.

Yet you will accept.

Because we all still sit
beneath The Table.

Even you are not immune
to the consequences of failure.

And what exactly are Mr. Wick's terms?

Victoriae fiducia.

The unconditional release
of any and all obligations to The Table.

Ah, history is littered with Marquis

who were only remembered
by their servants.

But you...

you could be remembered
as the man who brought John Wick,

the most feared of all

by The Table and all who sit at it,
into the light.

Your light.

And who could predict

how high that kind of glory
could take a man in our world?

Noon, La Tour Eiffel, to discuss rules.

You may go.

When I'm done.

As his Second, upon his victory,

my Excommunicado is to be lifted,
my title restored,

my hotel rebuilt and re-consecrated,

all at The Table's expense.

Of course.

How you do anything
is how you do everything.

Now I'm done.

I think I'll miss you when you're gone.

Shame I can't say the same.

You don't know, do you?

What's that?

A man's Second, like his sponsor,

either walks out with his champion

or is buried beside him.

The Old Ways.

Such is life.

Under the Old Laws, only one can survive.

Do you both understand that?

Very good.

Rules.

The Challenged chooses first. Time?

Sunrise.

Now.

Sunrise.

Location?

You come here thinking there is a way
out of this world for you, Mr. Wick?

There is not.

Le Centre Pompidou.

Sacré Coeur.

Sacré Coeur.

Weapons?

If you win,

The Table will honor its word.

You will have your freedom.

But you won't take it.

Blades.

Pistols.

Dueling pistols. Thirty paces.

In the event that both parties survive,

each will approach the other
at increments of ten paces

until only one remains.

Rules of engagement.

No quarter.

You know why you won't take your freedom?

Hmm?

Because this is who you are,

who you you've always been.

You are a Killer.

An orphan we plucked from the street
and honed into a knife.

And it is the killing
that gives you purpose.

A man without purpose...

is nothing.

No quarter.

No quarter.

If there is nothing else, gentlemen,

- I will see...
- A nomination.

It is his right.

Do you have a name?

Caine.

So be it.

Sunrise, Sacré Coeur.

Dueling pistols, no quarter.

Should Mr. Wick be victorious,

he will be free of any
and all obligation to The High Table,

and his Second will be reinstated

as the manager
of the rebuilt New York Continental.

Should the Marquis Vincent Bisset
de Gramont be victorious...

John Wick will be dead.

As will his Second.

Just so.

Now, if there is nothing more, gentlemen,
I will see you at sunrise.

Failure to meet at the appointed hour

will result in forfeiture
and immediate execution.

There is no John out there.

No happy husband with a normal life.

There's only John Wick,

the Killer.

And he's going to kill you.

Your hotel?

Yes.

You always have an angle, don't you?

Doesn't everyone?

Let's find safe harbor before it starts.

There's something I need to do first.

Sooner rather than later.

Won't do it.

You fight your own fight.

Isn't this what you want?

Hmm?

Victoriae fiducia.

You kill him,
and you and your daughter will be free.

No one can touch her.

If you don't,

she will have to face the consequences.

The choice is yours.

Caine.

John.

Saying goodbye?

Saying hello.

You think your wife can hear you?

No.

Then why bother?

Maybe I'm wrong.

The dead are gone.

Only the living matter.

After my daughter was born...

I wanted to leave this life.

I thought I did.

But you didn't.

We're damned...

you and I.

On that we agree.

My daughter's not.

If it's between you and her...

you're going to die.

Maybe not.

I missed you, John.

It's so good to sit with a friend.

I'll see you tomorrow.

This is how you resolve the situation?

Duello with the Baba Yaga.

Failure will shake
the foundation of The High Table,

and it will turn Wick into a saint.

My victory will do the opposite.

Marquis de Gramont!

A man's ambition should
never exceed his worth.

You would do well to remember that, sir.

Bonjour, Monsieur Wick.

And welcome to La Resistance.

A little far from home, aren't you?

Well, your little act
of uncivil disobedience inspired me, John.

I'm branching out,

spreading my wings.

How goes the Grand Farewell Tour?

Coming to an end.

So it seems. So it seems.

Forty-two regular, wasn't it?

It's Kevlar, front to back.
The latest in ballistic chic.

Appropriate for all formal occasions.

Weddings, funerals, High Table duels.

After all, a man has to look his best
when it's time to get married.

Or buried.

Forgive me, sir, but this is madness.

Madness?

Trusting your fate to a blind man?

There are three types
of men in this world.

Those who have something to live for,

those who have something to die for,

and those who have something to kill for.

John Wick has none of these things.

He is but a ghost
in search of a graveyard.

But the blind man,

well, he has all three.

Besides, I have a feeling

Mr. Wick will never make it
to the duel by sunrise.

All right, now.

For all you boppers out there
in the City of Lights,

for all you street people
with an ear for the action,

to all my loyal listeners who know

the beat of the street...

tonight is your chance
to make some beautiful music.

I've been asked to relay a special request

from a secret admirer.

It seems there's a thorn

in our little slice of paradise.

A wicked man from the Big Apple
is making a beeline to our sacred heart.

We are putting the call out to deliver
your hardest beats to this man in black.

If you want the prize,
you must finish before sunrise.

This golden oldie,

and I do mean golden hit,
goes out to you, Mr. Wick.

And remember, there is nowhere to run.

I want to thank you all

for listening to WUXIA,

the place for all your entertainment

and informational needs.

Good hunting.

And so it begins.

I'm going to need a gun.

I thought you'd never ask.

Nine-millimeter Pit Viper.

How'd you get this?

I know a guy who knows a guy
who shot a guy.

Twenty-one round capacity magazine

with a built-in compensator
for virtually no muzzle flip.

Fiber-optic front sight,

ambidextrous safeties,

flared magwell for faster reloads,

two-pound extreme trigger,

and for those more, how shall we say,

intimate encounters,

this Viper has ferocious fucking fangs.

How close can you get me to the church?

Amen.

Here we are, gentlemen.

Your ride.

When I advised you not to dip your pinky
back into this pond,

I didn't think I'd get wet.

It'll all be over after today.

When I was burying Charon,

I was torn about what to put
on his gravestone.

A few words to sum up an entire life?

Long live the king!

Had mine made years ago.

- Modest.
- Prophetic.

What did you decide?

Friend.

That's what he was above all else.

A friend.

Au revoir et bonne chasse, Monsieur Wick.

Thank you, King.

Jonathan.

Winston.

Sunrise is at 6:03.

Don't be late for all our sakes, hmm?

"Loving husband."

Hmm?

That's what I want on mine.

"John. Loving husband."

Confirmed.

Good news, boppers.

We have a sighting.

Our man in black has been spotted

in the Septième Arrondissement.

I think it's high time we paint him red.

It seems like our friends
at the guild dropped the ball,

and now it's rolling
to the Arc de Triomphe.

Let's see who picks it up.

Come on now, people.

We're gonna have to do a lot better.

Now, who's gonna be our big winner?

Who is this?

You know, the question you should
be asking, huh, is how much?

I think we have
the situation under control.

Because the way I see it,

is that if Mr. Johnny Boy
makes it to the church on time,

this could be your last night as Marquis.

A little traffic update.

I'm hearing
the boys in black couldn't get it done.

Our wicked friend is on the move again.

He's headed your way,
my listeners of the 8th.

Yes?

Fine. You have a deal.

All right. 35 it is.

That wasn't our deal.

Well, that's the only deal
being offered today.

Get him!

Phone!

- What?
- Now, you listen to me.

Forty.

You pay for the service.

Good news, boppers.

The lottery just went up.

To all you boppers
still sitting on the side,

Mr. Wick has the church in sight.

We are almost out of time.

Last chance to win the prize

before Mr. Wick's last sunrise.

So who out there is going
to climb those 222 steps?

It appears Mr. Wick won't be joining us.

John?

John?

Caine.

What time is sunrise?

Two...

maybe three minutes.

I need you to get to the top
of those stairs, John.

Yeah.

Ready?

Yeah.

Twelve or nine?

Nine.

- Six upstairs.
- Thanks.

Ciao, ciao, Mr. Wick.

You can't shoot me.

Yeah, you're right.

But I can shoot him.

But I can hit you, motherfucker.

Let's go, John.

Nuts.

You hit my puppy.

You know, you owe me.

Yeah.

Nothing personal, John.

We're even now.

Yeah.

And so we begin.

We seek the truth and will
endure the consequences.

Consequences.

Go on.

Positions, gentlemen.

See you in the next life, brother.

Thirty paces.

- Remember your daughter.
- Fuck off!

What a beautiful sunrise.

Last words, Winston?

Just have fun out there.

Are you ready, Mr. Caine?

Mr. Wick?

Fire!

Twenty paces!

Fire!

Nice.

Ten paces!

Just kill him.

Those who cling to death,

live.

Those who cling to life,

die.

Fire!

As your sponsor,

I claim the coup de grace.

Your weapon, give it to me.

Is my daughter free now?

Oui. You and your daughter.

Enjoy.

- Rules.
- Ha.

You arrogant asshole,

he didn't shoot.

Consequences.

That's fucking good.

Hmm.

Your obligation to The Table...

is satisfied, John Wick.

You are free.

As are you and your daughter, sir.

You will be fully reinstated, Mr. Manager.

All of your terms

will be fulfilled.

Our business here now is concluded.

Good day.

My brother.

You owe me one.

Yeah.

Winston.

Jonathan.

Will you take me home?

Of course.

Helen.

Never thought I'd see the day.

Where do you think he is, heaven or hell?

Who knows?

Farewell, my son.