Disclaimer: The same as before, I don't own anyone but Celeste. Elaine is being borrowed.

Notes: No I have not seen My Fair Lady.

Another Note: FrogHermitJiraiya (the female half) helped by writing a few parts of this story, so look for her influence. If you don't see it...don't worry, at one point she'll write a full one on her own smirk

Synopsis: Missing ladies during various parties held by a socialite outside of New York forces UNCLE to send in a woman undercover. But the only person who fits the bill is Elaine! Can she pull it off?

Culture Shock

Part 3: The Queen of Hearts Affair

"He didn't!"

Elaine sighed as she leaned against the filing cabinet, watching Celeste file and talk like she often did when there was no work to be done. Sometime after the last Affair with them, Waverly had decided to put them to actual work, pushing Elaine into Translations and Filing while Celeste went into Inventory Management.

And while complaining they had just come from those types of job probably would've gotten them as far as them tossing a sumo wrestler, Waverly had pointed out that since they had done such a job before, they would be able to do it again.

Time difference and computers aside, Celeste had taken to liking her job, as she got to put things away and move it, while Elaine buried herself in work until Napoleon had tracked her down shortly before this mission for a dinner-date outside of the UNCLE Headquarters. All complaints were brushed off and paid for, rather elegantly, and it was this that Elaine had fallen to telling Celeste.

"He did."

"EVERYTHING?"

A nod and then a sigh from Celeste; while most people whistled in this situation, Celeste couldn't so she settled for sighing or facial features that conveyed the same results.

"That was when I got home to find you passed out and half the vodka gone."

Celeste shrugged. "It gets me by. Either that or head back down to Psych ward. You realize I now know why my father hates rehab." The file replaced, she turned back to her friend as she shut the file. "But still, that probably set him back a little. I mean..."

"He had to pick the fanciest restaurant in all of New York that included ballroom dancing. Actual ballroom dancing."

"So you mentioned sometime around the fact that people looked at you strangely for picking up the wrong fork, drank some of your stuff a little too quickly, and ate more then you should've on the second course of a five-course meal." Celeste looked upward before frowning, looking back at Celeste. "Didn't you say he said he took someone there before? After that Brain-Drain or whatever case? The one with Waverly in the hospital."

"Like I would know which Affair that was, and yes, he did. She apparently could dance. And was a little more...more..."

Celeste sighed. "Feminine?"

"Oh, jee, thanks."

"I would've been down here dinner if we waited on you to say that word." Her work, and Elaine's, done, they walked over to clock out and head to get something to eat. "I don't think it was a total bust."

"Since you and Illya don't go out, I don't see you complaining."

Celeste looked at her, then shrugged. "Illya goes out. He likes jazz clubs. He plays too, and sings, but he likes jazz. I've thought about letting him listen to the Seatbelts, but not sure if he wants Japanese jazz-funk-whatever."

Elaine paused. "Was that your own convoluted way of saying you guys have gone out?"

"On orders, yes."

This caused Elaine to stop. "Orders?"

"The psych people wanted me to be more social, and told me I was to go outside of Headquarters with someone or else. Deciding I didn't want to participate in anything resembling One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, I asked Illya to take me out to one of his clubs. He agreed, we talked, I listened to him sing and play, I came back here, he went home."

"And then?"

"I drank half a bottle of vodka and passed out while waiting for you to get back from your non-mandatory date with Napoleon."

Elaine blinked. "So, let me get this straight. On the day I went out on my date, you left later on, spent some time with Illya, listened to him sing, then headed back here and proceeded to get drunk off vodka while waiting for me and passed out. Why did they give you a 'pass' on your psych eval again?"

"I scared them into it. Illya told me the trick for that particular shrink."

"He's done it before?"

"So has Napoleon."

"WHAT?"

Celeste frowned as they went inside of their small room. "I though you knew. Every time they're left alone with the enemy for more then a few hours, and torture could be involved, they get to have a psych eval to ensure nothing is wrong upstairs. Apparently Illya found out there's a pool on who will finally crack and be sent to the funny farm."

"I didn't need to hear that."

Celeste sighed. "Would it help if I told you Illya was ahead?"

"No."

"You seem unnaturally smug," Illya said as they walked in for a brief on their new mission, "I take it that date went well."

"With Elaine? I thought it did. I must admit, she is a little rough around the edges, but she was very nice in the dress I helped her pick out."

"You picked her dress, treated her, and didn't let her pick up the tip, did you?"

"Why?"

Illya shrugged. "She strikes me as one of those feminist types. The pro-women and 'all are equal' ones. She might not have liked the fact you didn't let her tip."

"I was being a gentleman!"

"Most of them don't like that."
Napoleon considered this and shrugged it off. "She didn't mention it."

"To you, no. But possibly to Celeste. I'll have to ask her should we go out again."

Napoleon paused. "You went out with Celeste?"

"Dr. Stephenson suggested it to help treat any depression she might have, and used a threat. She asked for a favor, so I took her to one of the jazz clubs nearby. She seemed to have a good time, then asked how she could get out of more sessions."

"Did you tell her?"

"I didn't think it would be nice to make her go through anymore. The way it sounded, Celeste has little if any tolerance for such sessions and was likely to get over her trauma in order to stab Stephenson to death with an envelop opener."

Napoleon fully paused on that. "I hope she didn't tell you that."

"No, but she mentioned a knife she brought with her and asked for something to sharpen it with."

"You two are odd."

"I will take that as a compliment and not a reason to plot something against you."

Napoleon nodded his thanks as they walked into Waverly's office. The section head of Section 1 was reading over a repot and motioned for them to sit down as he continued then asked, "Mr. Solo, what do you know about a Mr. Alistair S. Carruthers?"

Napoleon paused, searching his memory and finding that particular man. "Ah, rich, from rich money, hasn't really worked a day in his life, father owns a firm, ah...single, throws a lot of parties at his home a little north of the city..."

"Which, sadly, is also where a good deal of young women are disappearing from," Waverly told him as Napoleon glanced at the file with him, noting the faces and names. "Five girls in five weeks, Mr. Solo, all of them having gone to Mr. ah, Carruther's party and all of them having disappeared."

Illya glared as he looked over the picture of the richly-adorned house, the sizable paycheck, and finally the man himself. "Is he a suspect?" It sounded to the world like he wanted him to be.

"Unfortunately, no, as he never meets the girls, but due to it he is unable to get his normal escort for another rather large party he's throwing in a week. We need someone inside to check and see if she can spot something, anything, out of the ordinary. It might be a hard task to get in, though."

"Sir?" the two agents asked.

Waverly cleared out the used tobacco from his pipe as he continued. "He is very specific about the type of girl he enjoys to, ah, be with those nights, and has grown tired of the only one his Agency has who fits the description of his ideal, ah, companion."

"What are the specifications?" Illya said simply, "I'm sure Napoleon can tell you who, exactly, meets them here in Headquarters."

Napoleon resisted the urge to slap his partner on the head.

"Of that, I have no doubt."

He hated being double-teamed.

Waverly pulled out a small sheet and read it. "He requires a medium-sized girl, good sized bust, neither too skinny nor overweight, no tan, green or hazel eyes, any variety will work and, most importantly, light red hair."

Only one person came to mind at that description, out of the hundreds he'd met, and how he was going to pull this one off was beyond him.

Act 1: "How many times has this been done?"

"Not only no, hell no!"

"Celeste..."

"NO! The guy has a name straight out of American Psycho, you are NOT going in there without at least five knives and a way to mutilate him instead!"

Napoleon moved forward, mainly towards Elaine because he was sure Celeste would become violent if he moved that way. "Celeste, she will be under the best of care. I will be in the room with her. None of the escorts that Carruthers has gone with have been the victims. But we still need to figure out the common link between them, and we need to survey the area to make sure it doesn't happen again, or that if it does we can rescue the girl."

"Besides, he tries it and I'll pull out the red-head fu," Elaine tried. Celeste sighed.

"You realize the book I'm talking about is about a guy who is somehow able to elude police and do inhumane and disgusting acts on people, even if it's all in his head or not."

"Um...wait..."

"He's a rich psycho who gets a kick off torturing and mutilating girls, keeping their heads somewhere without the eyes in them, and putting a pair of sunglasses over it just for fun. He takes a New York sewer rat that climbed up his toilet and shoves it up a girl's--."

"Can we get to more pressing matters, like how we're going to pull this off?" Elaine pointed out.

"Please." Napoleon looked a little green.

Illya sat up, putting the actual book down as he said, "I take it that we will need to make Elaine into more of a lady then she is already to pull this off?"

"The Agency sent over the list of standards," Napoleon held up the small file as Elaine blanched. "We have four days to make you a lady, one day for shopping, then another to see if he'll like you."

Elaine sighed, rubbing a hand through her hair. "This is starting to turn into a bad movie."

"Actually, it's a musical called--."

"Celeste? Shut up."

The ballroom was deserted, a courtesy of someone who had helped UNCLE out before, and the Agency man, a person called Bateman that made Celeste nervous, looked over Elaine once before looking back at Napoleon. "You have to be joking."

"She fits the description."

"The description, yes, but not what we advertise!"

Celeste blinked. "Are you saying my friend's not good enough to be an expensive call girl?"

Bateman shook his hand in the air, dismissing the whole thing. "No, I am saying we have four days and there is not enough time to turn her into one who would pass for having the rigorous training we put our girls through."

"Like I said, not good enough to be an expensive call girl."

Napoleon cast the darker-haired girl a look. "Celeste, play nice. Bateman, I'm sure you're wrong. I'll admit she's a little rough around the edges, but we chip away enough of that dirt--."

"Napoleon!" Elaine yelled, glaring at the comparison.

"—and we will get a rather lovely diamond for our troubles."

"The problem," Celeste said from her position on the other side of Illya, "is how much dirt we have to go through."

Both Napoleon and Elaine cast dirty looks her way before Napoleon added. "Four days. It's all we have and we waste time arguing it. There are lives at stake."

Bateman cast another look at Elaine, assessing her, then sighed. "I shall see what I get in four days."

Napoleon smiled. "Good! You, ah, don't mind my help, do you?"

"Mr. Solo! When we train these girls, I am the only man present."

Illya now spoke up. "Yes, but this is a crash-course. You will have to make due with not only Napoleon but also myself and Celeste."

"Impossible!"

"Then we will do it ourselves," Illya told him, "Napoleon had turned many an ugly duckling into swans. This one is, I assume from his previous statements, halfway there, so not as hard as others."

Elaine blushed furiously at the comment before saying, "Are we going to start or not? If not, I would really like to get something to eat."

Bateman looked at her for a second, then nodded. "Fine, we'll start, but none of you," he pointed to the other three, "will interfere with my work!"

No one said anything as Bateman began with posture.

Celeste sat with her back to the area, as she had moved herself a little while ago after it turned out Elaine could stand straight and didn't take much yelling at to do. Napoleon was a very kind and easy teacher...Bateman, not so much so.

"I've seen movies on geishas that didn't have this level of abuse," Celeste muttered to Illya as she listened to Bateman go over something about place sittings again. "What's the need for all this?"

"Ask Napoleon. I am a Communist, remember?"

Celeste looked over at him, then back. "Yeah, well, you have to blend also, don't you?"

"Even as a spy, I enjoy only playing a small part, and mainly for the food. I know the basics, but Napoleon knows all of it."

Celeste leaned her head back, now watching the scene in a type of upside-down fashion before putting her head back up. "He could be a little nicer about it."

"He has to train her in four days."

"Don't you guys have something that could do it in less?"

Illya considered it, then nodded. "But not on being a lady. You do not get any of that type of training in school?"

"If we did, I think Elaine would have said something. Nope, closest I can think of is Home Economics, which is an easy A and you learn how to sew, iron and bake a cake. The last throwback of this era and no longer mandatory for females to take. Though..." Celeste paused then said, "I think Elaine mentioned she took a lot of theater during her high school years. She knows how to blend make-up really well and can act. If anything, she can act like a lady."

Illya nodded. "I think she is doing that to get the man away from her sooner."

"Is it working?"

"Sadly, no."

"I say we start pissing him off to get him to leave."

Illya cast her a look that held all the mischief his blue eyes could contain. "Lets."

Napoleon could spot a conspiracy from a good ways away, and this one was unluckily something he didn't want to have working against him. Of course, he considered as he helped Elaine out with how ladies took their tea or had it poured for them, it wasn't directed at either himself or Elaine, but rather the man who had been a small thorn in Napoleon's side as it was.

Not that Napoleon had ever had the type of money or cover that would require such a lady as the ones the Agency gave out to me. More to the point, though, he knew how they acted, how they were trained, and he had to think that Elaine could pull it off.

Bateman was not helping the situation and Napoleon actually had hoped the two would have joined in whatever unholy alliance they had decided on an hour ago.

The two were currently muttering something loudly enough to be annoying but not loud enough to be heard, and Celeste was giggling about it.

Bateman glared over at them as both Elaine and Napoleon hid a shared smile before Bateman said loudly, "Is there anything you two want to share with us?"

Celeste and Illya looked over a little sheepishly, though it was obvious that both were trying to hold in a laugh.

"Well?"

Celeste coughed. "We were, um, well, we were thinking maybe we should go and get something to eat. I mean, she must be hungry. All that tea and nothing to eat; I'm surprised she hasn't hit the head by--."

"Excuse me, what was that vulgar expression you just used?"

Bateman didn't realize how much he was digging his own grave.

Illya spoke up. "That is a Navy expression, far older then this form of being a lady is." He paused, "Are you calling the Navy vulgar?"

Celeste blinked. "Well, I understand cursing like a sailor, but the whole Navy? Wouldn't that include your Navy, Illya?"

"The one I was in? Yes, it would."

Bateman shifted as Napoleon went through the steps as slowly as he could and elaborated as much as he could.

"I'm sure no gentleman would insult something so steeped in tradition as the Navy," Celeste said, "Why, think of all the officers? Aren't they officers and gentlemen? I don't think they go through all of that schooling for nothing."

"We do not," Illya said, "and on top of being officers, you must also be able to hold your own against the enlisted. They must obey, but that does not mean they do not help you control the ship."

"A good gentleman, or one who thinks he's good, would apologize, wouldn't he Illya?"

"If he wanted to stay being thought of as a gentleman, he would."

Napoleon made several mental notes about not giving those two a reason to gang-up on him.

Celeste smiled at Illya before saying. "Well, let's have him apologize to you. After all, you are the higher-ranking person here."

He looked over at her, surprised. "Enlisted?"

"Guilty! We settle things like this with quarters in socks and blanket parties. Middle of the night type of stuff, you understand, right?"

"Of course. Though, perhaps if he apologized nicely enough for both of us, and perhaps got us all lunch, we wouldn't have to worry about such things, would we?"

"Considering we all live here together and will be for the next four days, I would think he should get us lunch for right now as a decent apology."

Bateman cleared his throat and nodded. "Very well. I shall see to it." With that, he left, and Celeste barely managed to hold in a laugh, the sound coming out more like a cross between a cough and a snort.

"You two are devious, evil people," Elaine told them, "You know that, right?"

The two nodded and sat back, watching and waiting for the food.

"So then," Illya told her from the table where manners were currently either ignored or a thing of the past, "he walks in and begins to dance! You'd think he was drunk already!"

Celeste laughed as Bateman cast them both an evil eye while Napoleon took up the job of ensuring Elaine did know the steps. She assured him she did, but that was no excuse to not practice far away and close-up dancing with him, was it?

"I would pay good money for those photos!"

"Actually--."

"Illya, if you value your life...stop."

The two looked over and Illya gave a small smile. "I have more."

"I'm quite sure," Celeste leaned in, "and we have strawberry shortcake to finish."

"Why didn't we start with it?"

"Even the crass, uncivilized people like us should end with it. Something sweet to help out for later."

"I see. We are moving to innuendos now."

"Illya, I moved there sometime between the story of how Napoleon apparently got a kid to tag along with him and the story about that Marian Raven lady and her bad luck."

"Ah. I didn't notice."

"I was going in stages."

"Not just being crass now, but trying for tact."

Celeste gave them a smile as Elaine rolled her eyes. "They're shameless, aren't they?" she whispered to him.

"Oh yes, they are. But I think they have yet to sink to their lowest."

"Well, Celeste hasn't starting being vulgar--."

"And Illya hasn't started being flirty. I think we should move further away in case of explosions. Shall we try another style?"

"Close or distance?"

"He'll want you close, so we must practice that," he gave her a smile, "as much as possible."

Celeste had grabbed the two bowls of strawberry shortcake and looked it over critically. "There are so many bad things I could come up with in this cake. It's a walking advertisement for deviant, uncivilized acts."

"It's a dessert," Illya told her as he took hers and grabbed a soup spoon from nearby. "What is so deviant about it?"

Celeste gave him a look as she leaned back in the chair with her treat. "You're pretty dense for a world-traveling spy. Fine, the sexual nature of Strawberry Shortcake."

Just move your feet. Try not to step on him, and try not to think about just how much you'd love to tackle him right now and do a few things... because that would be most improper, and we are here to learn manners...

Of course, your best friend suddenly saying something involving a sugary cake and sex didn't help out the situation at all, but really, it was to get Bateman out.

Right?

Into her ear drifted Celeste's dialogue. "Now, let us take the fruit, the strawberry." She had picked one delicately from the whipped cream and showed it to Illya. "It's one of the best and few foods people use when playing sex games with such things."

"I thought that was the whipped cream."

"Whipped cream needs a longer dialogue and more visual presentations then a strawberry, plus can be used in more places safely. Well...can be eaten from more places safely."

Elaine decided that being close to Napoleon had it's advantages: you could lean in and hide the fact you were about to meltdown and start laughing or taking her advice.

Celeste leaned a little closer to Illya, who moved backwards. "What? I'm not about to steal any of your shortcake."

"Last time you leaned in, you played dirty and licked my face."
Celeste blinked at him then shook her head, putting her own shortcake down a little ways away. "Illya, Illya, Illya. That was me being a little low. When I really start to play dirty, you'll figure it out rather quickly. Can I get back to how strawberries are sexual?"

Illya nodded and she smiled at him, running the strawberry over her bottom lip and partly inside her mouth. "They can be used as stimulation before the tongue even thinks of getting there, opening the person up to more then they would've gone for, and allowing for some extra calories to burn should later activities become...necessary."

Illya shifted, looking at his own and taking out a small strawberry as well. "But, for the meantime, they are simply...foreplay?"

She nodded, capturing her own strawberry with her tongue and pulling it into her mouth slowly before eating it.

"Well, now that that's done!" she wondered if she sounded too much like a tour guide. "Cake."

"What about the whipped cream?"

"I told you, longer dialogue due to the many places it can be held and eaten from in various fashions. Cake is a good crossover and prep for whipped cream."

Napoleon was wondering if they were being deliberately evil or if this was just something that was, like many of the missions, ad-libbed.

He'd like to think that they would spare them the pain. Elaine was turning more and more into goo and this might not be a good thing in the end. Plus, all the talk about foreplay and sex...

He could control his libido, but not during a talk like this.

Illya broke in. "I think I should have my say on cake."

"You said shortcake wasn't sexual."

"No, I said strawberry shortcake wasn't sexual. Since we've obviously learned firsthand what the uses for whipped cream are, and you obviously learned from various trials how well strawberries are, you should let me speak about cake."

Celeste gave him a large grin. "Are you an expert at the many uses of cake?"

"Cake, like strawberries, do help for the foreplay, especially when fed to the other person via the mouth. It allows one to take in the taste of the cake and the person."

"Hmmmm, really? I thought of that before."

"Ah, good. Well then, you should also know that small pieces eaten with toppings also help. Chocolate is preferred, of course, but that is a good aphrodisiac for many."

"Depends on the girl, true, but it's limited to the same dealings as strawberries, though I think they're more versatile."

"Oh, there is no doubt. But, of course, comes the final topping to this conversation."

"Whipped cream," Celeste then reached to take a scoop of whipped cream with her finger from Illya's dish.

"That's mine."

"I know. Come here and take it back," she moved her finger near his bowl, "Can't hurt. One of the few choice uses for it."

"Of course." At this point, Illya leaned forward and engulfed her finger in his mouth, licking and sucking the sugary substance off.

"ENOUGH!" Bateman's yell caused everyone to turn. "I will not allow this—this...DEVIANT ACT to continue!"

The two of them blinked at him, then looked at each other before Celeste shrugged. "I didn't think that was deviant."

"Not at all. Though an interesting demonstration of the many uses of such things. I should remember about the fruit later."

"Well, thanks for the cake thing. That was pretty cool too. Hey, did you know..."

"STOP!" Bateman finally reached over and grabbed his coat. "I have had ENOUGH of those two and you!" His finger pointed at Napoleon, who was giving the Agency man an innocent look, or the best one he could pull off at this point. "Just see if you can make her pass for a lady without my instructions! She'll be out the door in a minute! I cannot take this anymore!"

"Then leave," Illya said.

Celeste looked at Bateman, eyes traveling downward, then smirked, "And maybe get one of your eager young trainees to work on that--."

The door slammed behind him on the way out and Celeste sighed, digging into her own shortcake. "We should've thought of this earlier."

"We didn't have the food."

Celeste nodded. "True." She looked back at Elaine and Napoleon before looking surprised. "What? It was fun, but just an act. Right Illya?"

"Correct."

Elaine nodded weakly. "Well, excuse me, the...tea...caught up to me." She headed out one way while Napoleon just shot the two a mock-disgusted look and left on his own.

The two looked back at each other and shrugged. "Don't see what they were all hot-and-bothered over."
"Nope."

"Perfectly fine for two grown people to discuss sex and be strictly platonic."

"Of course."

"Actually...maybe we should have sex."

"Now?"

"NO! They might come back too soon."

"Ah, good, because this is quite delicious."

"Yes, it is."

Elaine locked the door to the bathroom behind her and stood in front of the mirror, turning on the cold water and splashing some quickly in her face.

"I hate those two," she muttered, then looked at her reflection. "Okay, stop thinking those things! Bad thoughts! Think of something less--."

With a frustrated groan, she splashed more water on her face then began her list. "Boot camp...not depressing enough, but close...tear gas, swamp-ass, being chosen as an observer for drug tests..." a light shudder, "that was fun...the day you found out your mother wears smaller panties then you do..." a larger shudder.

She looked back up and nodded. "Traumatized back into normal? Good. Now go back out there and make sure those two aren't actually doing anything—ARGH!"

More water went onto her face, and she began the new list of unpleasant things again.

Napoleon sighed. "Now I just have to get through three more days of this, as well as her getting fitted for a dress that will make her appealing to anyone who sees her. You've done it before, Solo. Just a job. Remember that."

Of course, considering how many women you have during and after the jobs--.

More water went onto his face and he groaned. "I might actually have to hurt Kuryakin for this one."

"He put your name in the paper as having bought the stocks? What did you say?"

"That I would have his teeth for cufflinks."

"Well, he was limping so I guess that could happen..."

"Mr. Waverly would've disapproved."

"What happened in the end?"

"I got the girl. He got a fox."

"As in foxy lady or as in small furry animal?"

"The second. I named it Napoleon and used it as a diversion for the dogs when I went in to rescue Mr. Waverly's niece."

A pause. "You named the fox Napoleon?"

"He had Napoleon's luck."

Celeste looked around to where the two had gone off to. "Speaking of Napoleon, he's been gone a while. Elaine too. Do you think we put in too much innuendo for them?"

"I wouldn't think we did."

Celeste shrugged. "Actually, I would've expected Elaine to be gone this long. Not Napoleon."

"No. Should we find them?"

"Why, so they can kill us and stash the bodies?"

"They wouldn't...there aren't enough places to stash a body here."

"What if you cut them up into pieces?"

"Then maybe, yes, but you would need a place to cut it up and hide the blood."

"True...the bathroom?"

Napoleon paused as he heard Illya reply, "I would think so, yes, but only if it had a bathtub."

"What if you could get your hands on the stuff they used to scrub down hospital rooms? That would clear away anything!"

Illya looked at her and she shrugged. "Saw it on a crime show. Some rich doctor killed his wife because she wouldn't do everything he asked her to and because her sister sent her pictures of him having an affair with his secretary. Then he goes up in a plane with no flight plan. Two or so days later he reports her missing with presumably evil causes and gives the department access to her psychologist and whatever she said to him, an alphabetized list of her contacts, and then starts posting rewards and stuff for her."

"I take it her family dislikes him?"

"Well, her family basically says 'he killed her' and he says 'prove it' then buries himself by testifying and losing his cool on the stand. It's fun."

Elaine walked up beside him and blinked. "Are they talking about shows that involve murders and dismemberment?"

"How'd you guess?"

Elaine looked at him. "I know Celeste. She loves those shows. She also enjoys Mythbusters, but at times like this I wonder what would happen to the poor guy she decides to actually kill."

"So she could hide a body?"

"If she decided to, yes. If she asked for my help, very likely. Why?"

"I just realized if she asked for Illya's help it would probably be the same thing. Should we interrupt them?"

"Please. I don't like cop shows...don't ask why, I just don't."

Napoleon nodded his understanding. "You don't have to tell me anything, Elaine."

Elaine blushed. "You want me to stay in the bathroom all night, don't you?"

"No, that would be counter-productive. Let's work on something that will involve more acting and less footwork."

"Thank you."