One of the less flashy, but no less useful aspects of super soldier serum was how it affected his ability to sleep. Sure, Steve knew he could go far longer and on less sleep than other people, but when the opportunity to rest presented itself he never had trouble falling asleep. It was like his body knew it should rest when it had the chance and when he told himself it was time for bed…Boom. Sleep.
No tossing and turning, no stressing over things he couldn't control and, at the moment, no internal meltdowns over the fact that physically he was now a she.
Sometimes he still felt out of place in his own body, but that was a discomfort he'd gotten used to. The lady parts though….
Sleep had been a welcome respite.
When he woke, Steve lay for a moment, hoping that the previous day had perhaps been one long, strange dream.
Unfortunately, the hair lying across his face quickly dashed those hopes.
Heaving a sigh, Steve sat up, flipping his too long hair out of his eyes before rising and padding over to the dresser, quickly tugging on workout clothes before making his way down to the warm-up room of their home gym.
To be honest, the warm-up room was what anyone else would call a large, well appointed gym. There were sparring mats, a boxing ring, weights and cardio equipment, even a high bar to be used for pull-ups or gymnastics work.
But the Avengers were different. Tony had given Steve, Natasha and Clint free reign to design whatever training facilities they wanted and the outcome was…unique. Four levels of controlled chaos, that's what Tony called final product. One floor was devoted to a firing range and weapons training while the others have been remodeled into a multi-level insane obstacle course that included your basic physical challenges, small explosions, lasers, live ammo, electric shocks and many other things designed to keep the team on their toes.
Tony and Bruce rarely ventured out of the warm-up room, but the rest of the team had a lot of fun with it.
Today though, Steve stuck to an easy routine, testing this version of his body to see what it was capable of. It was a relief to discover his endurance hadn't flagged, as he sprinted 10 miles on the treadmill in his usual time without running out of breath. The less bulky muscles of his arms and legs were slightly weaker than he'd become used to but still a good bit stronger than those of any non-superhuman man.
After an hour of testing himself, Steve was sure that, if it should prove necessary, he would be able to perform effectively as Captain America. He was still a super soldier, just packaged a bit differently.
Natasha appeared at 6 AM and they sparred until seven. Like himself, she was assessing her performance, adjusting to an unfamiliar body.
When they finished, she nodded and said, "Well, my center of gravity is different, arms and legs longer, but not too bad. I can still fight."
She surely could.
They separated to wash up and Steve tackle the daunting prospect of showering head on. Head on and eyes firmly shut, trying to ignore exactly what he was doing.
It took longer than he would've liked, as he discovered shampooing and rinsing longhair took a lot of time, but eventually you reentered his bedroom, wrapped in his familiar if now too big robe.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Natasha perched on the edge of the bed, freshly showered and changed, obviously waiting for him. "Natasha!" he yelped, clutching the robe closer to his chest. "What are you doing here?"
"Helping you deal with your hair," she replied, pointing with one long finger, "or do you know how to untangle that mess?"
To be honest, he did not, so he thanked her and allowed Natasha to shepherd him back into the bath room and show him how to work out the tangles. She also insisted he had to buy some conditioner, as it would make the battle easier. Once the long hair was dry, Natasha pulled back into a thick braid that draped over his left shoulder.
Her work done, Natasha nodded and disappeared, leaving Steve to dress in peace. He considered an accomplishment that he managed to get into the white, cotton underwear and bra without opening his eyes. Once those bits were covered, he felt less awkward and tugged on a pair of jeans, a white T-shirt and blue plaid shirt which he resolutely tucked in. A brown leather belt and boots completed his outfit and made him feel ready to face the day.
Entering the team kitchen, Steve made his way to the fridge, opening the massive appliance and peering into it. He liked the communal fridge, enjoyed seeing what his teammates put in there, as there was almost always something he couldn't recognize. As he gathered supplies to make an omelette, he said, "Morning, Clint."
The archer was seated crosslegged atop the refrigerator, a mixing bowl full of Cocoa Krispies in his lap. "Cap," he mumbled around his spoon, eyes only half open. "Coffee?"
After several…incidents, Clint and Thor had both been forbidden to operate the coffee machine and, since this was Tony's Tech they were using, the machine knew they were banned and refused to work for them. Now, they had to wait for one of the others to arrive before they could get their caffeine fixes.
Once, Steve had caught Clint eating instant coffee, dry. There'd been a tense moment before both decided never to mention it again.
"Sure," Steve said, placing the omelette fixings on the counter and turning to the coffee machine, tapping the top with one finger to alert the system to his presence. "Could I please have a pot of Nantucket Blend. Extra strong. Thank you."
Tony had told him repeatedly that he didn't need to be polite to the appliances, but then he made comments about them being sentient. It seemed only right to be as polite to them as he was to Jarvis.
Besides, if the machines ever took over like they did in that movie starring the governor of California, Steve thought it best to stay on good terms with them.
The coffee maker beeped agreeably and Steve went back to prepping his omelette, separating the eggs and mix in the yolks with a splash of milk before whipping the whites into a foam and folding them together. After pouring the mix into the pan, he sprinkled shredded cheese and a little sliced ham onto the top.
By the time the coffee was brewed, his omelette was ready, so he plated it, poured the coffee (handing Clint's mug up to him) and took a seat at the counter to enjoy his breakfast.
Knowing Clint wouldn't be capable of pleasant conversation for a while, Steve thumbed on his Kindle, pulling up the days Times. Of all the technology he'd seen in the 21st century, Steve liked the pocket library best. It lacked the tactile sensation of real paper, but he was willing to trade that the lack of dirty, messy newsprint.
It was one thing to get covered in coal dust or ink for artistic reasons, another altogether to get filthy will simply trying to read the news.
Steve was halfway through the papers account of their battle with Loki (fortunately, no one had seen were gone down on the roof and S.H.I.E.L.D. Bad been quick to extract them) when Tony wandered in, making a beeline for the coffee. Clearly, he been up in the lab all night. He was wearing the same jeans he'd had on the previous evening, now stained with God only knew what and a tank top. His skin was streaked with engine grease and he smelled like burnt circuitry and smelted metal.
Tony didn't acknowledge Steve or Clint, simply open the cabinet and reached up for mug. Then he froze. "Oh, I hate this," he said, sounding slightly manic. "This is so, so wrong."
He couldn't reach the shelf he kept his mugs on. This could be bad, Steve realized, knowing Tony was probably seconds away from scrambling onto the countertop to access said mugs. Sleep deprived Tony climbing the cabinetry was not something Steve thought would end well for anyone.
Standing, Steve crossed the room quickly and reached around Tony, snagging a tall, black mug and pressing it into the inventors hands. "Here," he said, filling the cup and then pointing to the island counter. "Sit and have something to eat."
Usually, it was a fight to get Tony to normal breakfast, but shockingly, he agreed with no fuss. "Sure," he said, then downed half his coffee and topped it off before actually sitting. "What's to eat?"
"Eggs…I was thinking of frying up some bacon too," Steve replied, the omelette not quite enough to sate his serum enhanced metabolism. He wasn't about to question Tony's willingness to eat a good breakfast and he knew the man loved bacon, so he wasn't above adding the incentive.
Clint however was entirely willing to question. "Okay, what gives?" he asked, still from atop the fridge. "Normally when someone offers you breakfast, you run, say you're too busy, blah blah blah. Today, no fight. I mean sure, Cap's ass looks great in those jeans, but it always does so that's not new."
Flushing, Steve threw a cheese cube at Clint's head…which he caught in his mouth with a grin, completely un-chastised.
Tony just looked amused. "Well, obviously Cap's perfect ass transcends gender, but usually I am too busy. Today, not so much. Until we go public with our little situation, I have no meetings, no boards of directors to appease, no press conferences...Pepper already yanked everything for my schedule before she went to the office this morning. Just working in the lab and right now Jarvis's fabricating a redesign of my suit in case we have to fight like this, so I'm free."
That was good. Tony would soon be battle ready and Steve knew he and Natasha felt confident in their abilities to perform their duties. Thor never questioned his and Bruce…A giant green rage monster was a giant green rage monster regardless of gender.
Which left….
"Clint, we're sparring later," Natasha announced, startling Steve, who hadn't heard her come in. She was perched on a stool by Tony and regarded Steve with a small smile. "I'd like my eggs poached."
"S.H.I.E.L.D. still has to get me a new bow," Clint said, which caused Tony to snort into the plate of scrambled eggs , toast and bacon Steve had handed to him.
"Please, I'll be the one making your bow," he said, pointing a fork at Clint. "We can measure the length of your arms later, figure out how much resistance your muscles can deal with… Clearly your sex change hasn't altered your need to assume the high ground."
"Has anyone seen Bruce or Thor today?" Natasha asked, a question that drew a near hysterical bark of laughter from the doorway.
"Scene, no. Heard, yes," Darcy muttered, shuffling toward the coffee pot and attacking it with fervor. "Multiple times, all through the night. The only stopped a few hours ago."
Everyone took a moment to absorb that information before Tony said, "The walls are soundproof."
Darcy gave him a dark look. "Not nearly soundproof enough," she asserted, then ran and eye over the assembled group before jabbing a finger at Steve. "I'm sleeping in one of the spare rooms on your floor until this is over. Their normal noises, I can deal with that. Hell, they stay in their own room and I've had roommates before that haven't been nearly so considerate, but this marathon insanity…no."
Red in the face, Steve could only nod agreeably and slide Sunnyside up eggs toward her.
"Dr. Banner is sleeping on the cot in his lab," Phil said as he wandered in, already wearing one of his sharp suits. A tablet was tucked under his arm, screen aglow, but he ignored it to continue, "S.H.I.E.L.D. has been making discreet inquiries amongst the superhuman scientific community. Dr. McCoy has offered any assistance he can. Apparently the X-Men are not unfamiliar with spontaneous mass gender changes, though theirs was due to the student's uncontrolled mutation. Dr. Richards…."
"No. That stretchy fuckwit had better stay the hell away from me."
"Richards is the king of douche land. How many times he dragged his group off to where-the-fuck-ever and left us to deal with whatever super villain of the week that shows up looking for them?"
"Oh my God, have him bring Johnny! I want to see if he tries to hit on Steve…or, ya know, any of you, but what with Stephen Johnny having the whole doppelgänger thing, it'd be like he was trying to hit on himself!"
Pausing to allow Clint and Tony's protests and Darcy's excited exclamation, Phil continued, "Dr. Richards was consulted, but is apparently 'too busy' working on 'matters of the utmost delicacy and importance'. Douche."
Opinions about the Fantastic Four were unifying thing among the Avengers. No one liked Richards, not even Steve, who is predisposed to like everyone (that probably had something to do with the fact that the man had demanded a blood sample before they even shaken hands). Tony had once expressed the opinion that Sue Storm was okay, but suffering from some kind of Stockholm syndrome with regards to Richards and they had all adopted that theory. Johnny Storm was kind of an asshole, but in the sarcastic, good-natured and likable way that fit in pretty well with the Avengers own dynamic. Ben Grimm was a good guy, steady, funny and a hell of a fighter, probably suffering the same Stockholm syndrome as Sue.
"Hey," Darcy said suddenly, tilting her head to the side and considering Steve and Tony, "Are you guys going to just hang out here or use this to go out without having the fans and paparazzi chase you around? Cuz this is like the ultimate incognito. You guys and Thor could get a break."
The media could be a bit overwhelming. Tony and Thor were swarmed wherever they went and Steve himself could rarely escape the attention. Bruce wasn't bothered often because everybody (even the paparazzi) were hesitant to provoke the Hulk. Natasha and Clint both used their skills to avoid notice most of the time, something Steve had been trying (unsuccessfully) to learn.
"Yeah, going out in public like this is high on my priority list," Clint quipped, then shot Natasha a slightly nervous look. "Not that there's anything wrong with being a woman obviously, but me as a woman…yeah, so very wrong."
"What the hell? Yesterday you were all 'Oh, look, I've got boobs! They bounce!" Tony asked, peering up at the clearly grumpy archer.
Clint scowled down at him. "Yeah well, the whole 'Oh my God, I got boobs!' Thing quickly turned into 'Oh. My. Fucking. God. I've got boobs. This is wrong…wrong, wrong, wrong.'"
"At the very least, we have to go have someone fix the butcher job you did on your hair," Natasha replied placidly, much to Clint's obvious surprise. "What, you thought I wouldn't notice if you kept your hoodie up?"
Along with everyone else, Steve turned to look at Clint, who heaved a sigh and shoved back his hood. Yesterday, after the change, he sported long, light blonde locks which were now chopped off unevenly at chin length. "What?" he said defensively. "It was a tactical decision. Give the enemy less to grab onto during a fight."
Natasha and Phil traded raised eyebrows will Darcy offered, "Short hair is in this season."
"It suits your features," Steve added truthfully. Clint's feminized face did have a slightly Elven look to it in the long hair had hidden that.
Tony pulled out his phone and tapped a button. After moment, he said, "Hi, can Simone make time for friend of Tony Stark today?...Yes, thank you." He hung up and turned to Clint. "Get dressed, Katniss. We're going to get your do done right."
As Tony and half expected, the trip to get Clint's self-administered haircut repaired turned into quite the event. The archer had protested, relenting only under the combined stares of Phil and Natasha. They then proceeded to drag him off to be dressed in something more fashionable than oversized sweats and a ratty hoodie. Darcy scampered off to alert Jane and Thor about the trip, clearly having forgiven them for humping like insanely loud and enduring bunnies the previous night.
Well Steve cleaned up the kitchen (something he always insisted on doing despite Tony's assurances that he paid people to do things like that), Tony took a quick shower and dressed in one of the outfits he purchased during the previous days shopping expedition.
Initially, he been rather put out by the fact that he made for a very, very petite woman. Well proportioned, with a nice ass, but so small. Tiny hands, tiny feet, tiny little waist…It had taken Tony some time to come to terms with the fact that he was never going to be considered a physically imposing man, but he had always been strong, with more muscle than people gave him credit for.
Now he was a waif…though he discovered that tiny hands were excellent for delicate lab work. That was pretty awesome.
Plus, clothes looked really good on him. They always did, he was a hot guy. It was pretty cool to know that he still would've been hot even if he'd been born a girl.
After a shower, Tony peered at himself in the mirror for a long moment. Considering how badly he'd treated his body over the years, he knew he'd aged well and that translated to this body. Sure he had a few wrinkles here and there, but he always eschewed Botox, just as he turned his nose up at the idea of dying the smattering of greatest temples. He wore them like his arc reactor, badges of honor and accomplishment.
He'd survived a lot.
All in all, he thought he actually looked a bit younger as a woman, the effect of softer, rounder features. His shoulders and torso were narrow, which may be arc reactor, seated between his small but perky (and untouched by gravity) breasts, seem bigger than it was. His tummy was taut and flat, hips and ass gentle curves that led to slim thighs and legs.
A damn good package, if he said so himself.
Not quite sure what to do with his hair, Tony simply combed it, dried it and left it to hang loosely around his shoulders. Later he'd probably get annoyed and pull it back, but for now it was a novelty.
In his room, he tugged on a black bra and panty set (situating the cutlets more easily after having practiced with them yesterday) before sliding a high necked, black tank top over his head. The extra layer would help shield the reactor from public view, something he normally didn't bother with, but this was hardly a normal situation.
Or was it.
Abnormal had become the norm for them.
Next came jeans, a snug pair that may Darcy mutter about doll clothes, and a black three-quarter length sleeves shirt. Black leather, knee-high boots with a 3 inch wedge heel and a motorcycle jacket completed his outfit. Checking his reflection, Tony decided he looked good and stuck his cell phone and credit card into a pocket before selecting a pair of sunglasses and strolling down to the common floor with a planned to meet.
Steve, Darcy and Thor were waiting, ensconced on one of the couches. Still wearing the plaid and denim ensemble from earlier, Steve had added a tan barn coat in concession to the fall weather. He looked like some kind of Midwestern, all-American Farmer's daughter and, though he really worked the look, Tony sighed.
He had hoped pepper might have used her influence to sway steam away from all L.L. Bean and Grandpa wear.
Thor was wearing jeans as well, boot cut like Steve instead of skinny like Tony and Darcy. Somehow, he made Nikes and a red T-shirt with the words Hammer Time! emblazoned across the front in silver look like the height of fashion. Thor never seemed to feel the cold like the rest of them. His hair was loose and wild, combed but still refusing to be constrained. Again, it looked intentional and very awesome.
Tony speculated that was one of his Asgardian superpowers, looking incredible no matter what.
Sitting between the two men, Darcy (still used to the warm, New Mexico climate) was wrapped up in an olive green canvas jacket and a colorful scarf. Her jeans were tucked into her new boots and she'd twisted her hair up in one of those clawed clips Tony always stole to keeps bags of chips from going stale.
"No Jane?" Tony questioned, flopping down beside Steve and enjoying the softness of the cushions. Despite what the others probably assumed, he had gotten some sleep the previous night…but sleeping slumped over her desk wasn't very comfortable, even if Dummy had draped a blanket over him at some point.
"Alas, no," Thor said with a shake of his head. "She intends to stay and assist Bruce in investigating potential cures for our situation. I have assured her that it is unnecessary, but they persist."
Leaning over Steve, Darcy whispered conspiratorially, "Also, I don't think she feels up to walking quite yet."
Well, that made sense, considering what Darcy had said earlier about overhearing a multiples marathon. "Bruce isn't coming either?"
"He said he'd rather not," Steve said, shrugging the shoulder his thick braid hung over. "You know how he doesn't really like crowds."
"Who does?" Tony mused lightly and heard a snort behind him.
"You do," Phil replied as he, Clint and Natasha entered.
Still was still wearing his typical suit, while Natasha had on a nicely cut pair of black trousers, black boots and a jade green shirt under brown suede jacket. Her short hair was artfully disheveled in a way that could've only been intentional, but looked perfectly natural.
Clint was wearing black jeans that fit, proof that he (or rather, Phil and Natasha) had purchased something the day before. If not for the size, his combat boots could've come from his normal wardrobe, but the purple, slim cut sweatshirt with a silkscreened hawk face on the front was new. His raggedly shorn hair was hidden under a battered Yankees and he only looked a little surly, which was actually his usual expression.
On a normal day, the team and their associates could only fit into one of Tony's largest cars (the ones Happy didn't really like to drive because they handled like an unresponsive tank), mostly due to the fact that Steve and Thor, while slim hipped, took up at least as much shoulder room as to normal sized people.
Between their altered physiques and the fact that Bruce and Jane had begged off, they took one of the normal cars, Phil riding up front with Happy, Steve, Tony and Darcy on the rear facing bench across from Natasha, Clint and Thor.
From his seat, Phil handed a small bundle to Steve. "ID's and emergency S.H.I.E.L.D. credit cards," the agent told them, then pursed his lips. "I think I need to have words with the rookie in the Cover ID Department. No creativity."
Intrigued, Tony plucked the cards from Steve's grip and began doling them out. "Stephanie Rogers," he read aloud. "Nathan Romanoff. Antonia Stark, subtle. Bryce Banner, I'll hold onto it for him. Clara Barton…think the kid in ID even knows there was someone famous with that name? And…Seriously! Thorina Odinson! That's just…wow…."
"It is a fine name for daughter," Thor declared with a grin.
When they reached the hair salon, Tony led their motley procession in, smirking at the wide, startled eyes of the staff and regular clientele. Clearly, they did not look like the salons target demographic.
Ignoring the gaping stares, Tony swept up to the desk and gave the thin, sour faced platinum blonde receptionist a bored sneer. He knew how to speak fluent snob. "She's here to see Simone," he said, flicking a thumb at Clint as he slid a black Stark Industries card across the desk.
The woman, whose name tag read Isis, blinked and asked, "Name?"
"Clara," Clint ground out, looking ready to make a dive for the display of expensive shampoos. The bottles looked heavy and, with his a, would make for dangerous projectiles.
"How…quaint," Isis muttered, tapping at her keyboard. "Simone will be with you shortly. The rest of you are here…why?"
"Moral support," Darcy chirped, poking at a jar of lotion that boasted to contain crushed diamond chips. "She's got some hair issues."
Tony realized bringing Thor to this kind of salon was probably one of his best ideas ever when the Asquardian eyed the shelves of shampoo and declared, "There is far more selection available at Sam's Club."
That started Isis's eye twitching, almost in beat with the rhythmic bass music being pumped through the salon. It only got worse when Clint complained to Natasha, "If you hadn't hidden all the clippers, we wouldn't be here. I could've buzzed it off and we would've been done."
"You are not getting a buzz cut," Natasha said evenly. "You want it short, ask for pixie cut."
"I'm not a fucking pixie," he mumbled, but knew better than to argue. Male or female, Natasha was the scariest person Tony had ever met. In a good what…well, sometimes in a bad way, but usually good.
When Simone appeared and ushered Clint off, Tony decided some form of distraction was probably required to keep the others from a) giving Isis a heart attack or b) having the cops called on them. Glancing over at the other side of the salon, he saw that only a few of the Army of nail techs occupied, so he waved the card at Isis again. "Add a mani/pedi to Clara's ticket and we're all getting them too."
Though Isis didn't like having them in the salon, it was clear she found that preferable to having them all linger around waiting room with her.
Neither Steve nor Thor had ever had their nails done (Thor really liked the bubbly foot bath), but everyone else was familiar with the process.
Normally, Tony stuck with a Gentleman's Manicure and clear, shiny polish that entailed (He had better ways of driving his board of directors insane than to run around with brightly painted nails), but today he happily selected a bottle of Iron Man red polish and Gold for accents.
Thor stared at the array of choices and, eventually, decided to have a different color on each finger and toe.
Darcy went for a metallic turquoise and helped Steve choose a French manicure for himself, a subdued, classic style that suited him.
When Clint finally appeared, now sporting a flattering pixie cut that did, as Steve had said, flatter his features, he had gaped at them as though they'd all gone nuts. Then he sighed and shrugged. "What the hell?"
He picked a shade of purple that almost matched the accents on his uniform.
Cutting his hair seemed to have mellowed Clint slightly with regards to the whole wacky-alien-magic-sex-change situation. As someone with 'issues' of his own, Tony realized Clint's mood had probably had something to do with the lack of control of the situation. Loki had again done something to him that he was powerless to control… But he could and did get a haircut.
It wasn't much, but the little things mattered.
One thing Tony never thought he find himself doing was sharing a spa day with most of his team, Agent Phil Coulson and Darcy. Still, it was actually kind of soothing.
The girl trying to exfoliate Thor's feet discovered he was ticklish, which led to some splashing. It was funny enough that Tony made a mental note to give the poor girl a big tip.
Fortunately for everyone involved, the staff was too professional to comment about the odd calluses on most of their hands and they only twitched slightly when Clint refused to let them smooth out his skin. Tony's attendant wasn't so candid about her feelings regarding the oil and grease under Tony's blunt nails.
Honestly, it wasn't that bad. He did own (and use) a nail brush, but sometimes stuff got caught up under their. "This is just awful," she clucked, using one of the little metal probes to carefully scrape all trace of grime from under his nails. "Not only does it look bad, but the grease here can transfer. Think about it. Every time you touch your face, it's like you're rubbing a pizza on your skin!"
Well, that was just inaccurate, but Tony was distracted when a strange woman stepped into the space between Steve and Thor's chairs.
"You two are stunning! Who represents you?"
Both looked resigned and Thor shrugged at Steve, as he clearly thought this was just yet another odd Earth custom he didn't fully understand. "Thank you ma'am," Steve eventually replied. "We represent ourselves, I suppose. Personal responsibility is…."
"Oh that's just darling!" she practically cooed, producing business cards out of seemingly nowhere. "I'm Reggie Armstrong, talent manager. I could get you so much work."
This wasn't the first time in agent had approached a member of the team. Tony was safe, as he already had his own people on staff, but he'd seen it happen to Steve, Thor and Natasha on numerous occasions, Clint a few times and once Darcy (though that guy had been sketchy enough to prompt Clint to produce a huge knife to 'clean' and scare the guy off).
Steve and Thor originally hadn't understood what was going on, but after few times they figured it out… And came to the decision to play dumb, usually with amusing results.
"We already have jobs, but thank you again," Steve said, so polite butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.
"I can get you more money," she insisted. "Who do you work for?"
"That's classified," Phil interjected from where he was getting his nails buffed to a shine.
The talent manager turned to him, but froze before speaking when faced with his cold stare…or perhaps it was Natasha's blank yet somehow terrifying expression. Darcy was mimicking her with surprising skill (Tony was sure Natasha was giving her lessons on how to be scary).
Reggie wisely fled without another word.
"So, that brings the count to seven for Steve-ie and 6 for…Thorina," Clint said with a chuckle, stumbling over their cover names. He'd taken it upon himself to keep a running tally of such things. "Nat's still in the lead with 11."
"Was there any doubt?" she replied, grinning at Clint.
Clearly, the nail techs thought they were all insane but were too professional to say anything.
They all deserved big tips.
TBC...
Comments are loved!