A/N: Takes place at the beginning of the season, late October. Please read and review.

Carl stood in front of the mirror in his nearly-all-chrome bathroom, shaving his barely-visible five-o'clock shadow. He glanced over at his companion, who was brushing her teeth. "You know, I just had a thought."

"Carl," said Shirley, after spitting out her toothpaste, "You know I wish you wouldn't. It's dangerous. Let me handle that."

He smirked. "I'm not Denny Crane. I'm quite capable of thinking for myself." Nicking himself slightly with his razor when he smirked, he reached for a piece of tissue, dabbing at the skin.

She sighed, setting her toothbrush back in its' holder. Better to let him get it out of his system. "Go ahead."

"I'm guessing that Denny still makes the entire firm go to that ridiculous Halloween party?" he asked, putting on aftershave lotion.

"I think it's good for morale," she glared. "I suggested people attend."

Carl rolled his eyes. "Well in that case, we should find matching costumes or some such nonsense. What do people wear for Halloween these days? In New York City, it's just an excuse for 20somethings to dress sluttily."

"Only you could dismiss the Greenwich Village parade as an excuse for exhibitionism." Shirley opened the medicine cabinet and took out a couple of Excedrin from a giant bottle. May as well start now, she thought.

"Oh, come on now." He peered over her shoulder, looking at their reflections in the mirror. "I could be Captain America and you could be Wonder Woman..."

"I'm not so sure I should be that exposed...and Captain America?" She raised a brow.

He stepped aside and puffed out his chest. "Or Superman, perhaps."

"Carl, for me, please...underwear on the inside of the pants, all right?"

He gave her a mock-glare. "Fine. But can I keep the x-ray vision?"

Shirley shook her head. "I had no idea you wanted to go around staring at people's skeletons."

This time his glare was real. "Well do you have any better suggestions?"

"I don't know, Carl." She was losing patience. "Did you really have to have superpowers?"

"Yes." His voice was serious.

At that, she paused. "Any reason why?"

"Would you rather I cross-dressed and pretended to be part of some 60s girl band?" he asked.

"It's been done," she smirked. "Pass."

Putting on a crisp white shirt over his undershirt, Carl gave an annoyed grunt. "Then what would you suggest?"

"I don't know," she said, smoothing her blouse. "Somehow I never pictured you as wanting to be anyone else."

"Yes, I'm perfectly secure in who I am." He buttoned his shirt. "But I would hate to crush morale." He snorted, unable to get through the sentence with a straight face.

"I thought you lived for that." Shirley looked at him across the double sinks.

"Yes, well...it's Halloween." He frowned. "The freaks have to have -one- day to fly their flags. As if they didn't already."

"Carl!" Her tone was a warning. "What did we say about that word?!"

"...which word?" He backed up a step, knotting his tie. "Halloween?"

"No, Carl. The F-word. I was very clear about that." She glowered.

He rolled his eyes. "What? They ARE."

"Do we need to go over the needlessly-blunt conversation again?"

He sighed, straightening his tie. "No. Let me rephrase." He stared at her a moment, getting distracted. "You should be a judge with that tone of voice."

"Don't think I haven't considered it," she broke into a grin.

He smirked. "You'd scare the socks off anyone stupid enough to challenge your authority."

"You won't sweet-talk your way around me yet." Shirley applied her lipstick carefully. "Keep trying."

"Yes, yes," he said dutifully. "Back to the subject at hand. Are you saying I'm scary enough to go as myself?"

"Well, to be honest, you've already established yourself as some kind of monster," she chuckled. "Jerry Espenson's scared stiff at the mention of you."

"As he should be," Carl said. "So, what kind of a monster am I, then?"

"It depends who you ask. I imagine the associates see you as the grim reaper. Denny probably thinks of you more like a vampire - he hoped you were gone, but you're back for more blood." She put a hand on his shoulder, "I don't think you're so bad. Frankenstein's monster was actually quite misunderstood."

He thought about that for a moment. "Thanks...I think."

"Oh, come on, I could be the Bride of Frankenstein."

He smirked. "You could indeed. I think you'd be able to give her a certain class."

"Why, thank you." She smiled. "I think."

As he finished getting ready, Carl paused, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Come on. The fre--associates--are waiting."

"Play nice with the villagers, Carl." Shirley took his hand. "As long as they don't have torches and pitchforks, we're fine."

Carl sighed as he exited the bathroom. "I'll try."