Snake Eyes and the Baroness paradropped into the abandoned Mayan Temple. Snake Eyes turned on his night vision goggles. Night Vipers were crawling everywhere. He prepped his katana and steeled himself to take on a whole army. The odds were against him. But then again, they always were. He was the kind of guy who was impossibly gallant. One of the few good men who'd risk his own life to protect the people around him. That's what made Snake Eyes so cool.

"Wait," said the Baroness. "You don't have to do this. If I remember this station correctly, there's a secret tunnel a half mile down the road from here. It's disguised as a sewer exit on the riverbank."

"Thank you, Baroness," Snake Eyes said in his typically gruff and very cool manner, "but I prefer to do things my way."

"Dammit," the Baroness said, blushing and stomping her foot. "Would it kill you to go along with my plans for once? Why does it feel like I'm pulling you through a bed of nails every time I suggest something?"

"Because it's a lame karaoke party," Jeff said as he walked toward the cafeteria breakfast line with Annie following closely behind him, "and the only difference between this and Judy Garland Appreciation Night at the Sushi Bar is the fact that it was notarized by Dean Pelton."

"It's not exactly karaoke," Annie insisted. "I modified the format so every act is a duet. I think it works on a more personal, interactive level than a single singer, and it gives the entire show a little je ne sais quois."

"Huh? Sorry, I'm a little rusty on my Spanish."

"That was French, actually."

Pierce, standing at the other side of Jeff in the self-serve breakfast line, suddenly took notice of the two. "Hey, Annie!" he said sunnily. "Is the Greendale Idol still on this weekend?"

"So far," she said glumly.

"Oh, good," Pierce said. "If it's OK with you, I want to make a slight modification on the entrance form I submitted. Instead of Pierce Hawthorne, I'd like it to read: 'PH Balance.'"

"What?" Annie said, exasperated. "Why?"

"It's my rap artist name," he said proudly, "You see, Fake Troy and I…."

"He HAS a name," Shirley said on the other side of Pierce. "It's LeJon."

"….we've been working on a fresh new mash-up fusing West Coast Rap style with Barry Manilow. And, Pierce Hawthorne … it lacks some street cred. It sounds like…."

"The name of the CEO running a moist toilette company, maybe?" Jeff interjected.

"EXACTLY," Pierce replied. "It's far too corporate. It reeks of The Man. I need a handle that gives me street cred, like 50 Cent or Aaron Carter. Not something sissy like M and M's."

"That's Eminem," Jeff said.

"Hence," Pierce continued, "PH Balance. See, the PH are my initials, and Balance highlights the fine line balancing act between hip hop and 70's easy listening. Pierce Hawthorne, that's the old and busted. PH Balance, that's the new hotness. You hear that name, and you think about hanging out with your bitches, hoes, and nig-…." Pierce looked nervously at Shirley, who fixed him with a stern glare. "Nig-cotine addicts. Because cigarettes are a huge problem in the inner city. So I've heard. Speaking truth to power, right Shirley?"

"I don't listen to rap," Shirley said. "It's only young boys pretending to be all tough. It's cute when they're six, but it's annoying when they're twenty. Why do they have to be mad at? Did their ex's split taking all their money in a court settlement? Now, see James Blunt? He's the real deal. I heard he served in the army. And those washboard abs of his? Girl could spend all night exfoliating her face just rubbing her cheeks on his tummy."

"I'll look into it, Pierce," Annie said hesitantly. "Jeff, I'm not asking you because you're super popular or because you wear Burberry and Dolce & Galbanna Cologne for Men. Which is… wow, it smells pretty hot."

"Thanks," Jeff said, smirking.

"It's just," Annie said, drooping her shoulders, "I'm asking you because we're friends."

"Annie, I'm terrible at this," Jeff said. "Remember the Debate Team? I didn't even know the rules beforehand."

"But we won!" Annie beamed. "And that's why I need you. You're…." A knight in shining armor? No, that would sound like she was hitting on him. But would that be so wrong? No, think. Snake Eyes? Wait, that's dorky. "…clutch," Annie said. "You're clutch!"

Jeff sighed. "Fine," he said. "I'll think about it."

"Thanks," Annie smiled. "I'll chalk you down as tentatively yes."

As she started to turn away, Troy skidded into the cafeteria. "Hey, Annie!" he called out. "How's that sports novel going?"

Jeff snorted. "Sports novel?" he asked. "You don't know anything about sports. I spent most of Troy's first football game explaining the rules to you. And I don't think I ever got farther than try to explain who was on the 'green butts' and who was on the 'yellow butts.'"

"I do know about sports!" Annie said. "There's competition. And action. People getting hurt and acting all arrogant. It's not different from watching a movie."

"Huh," Jeff said. "Can I read it?"

"It's in work!" Annie said defensively. "I have to work the plot out on my own. And the Grammar Girl podcast says I can't let anyone see it unless it's done."

She twirled around and escaped down the hall. Jeff's gaze lingered on her retreat, admiring her gracefulness yet purposefulness, before shaking his head and scooping the gravy on his hash browns.

Britta had been watching the whole exchange from a table on the far side of the room. She also watched Annie, then turned to look at Jeff. She needed to talk to him. But now now. Later.