The rest of the night lacked any unmanageable scandalous behavior, mostly because Dan avoided Christine like a bad cough. He considered Harry's words and conceded to a fair amount of reason in them—except for the bit about him not being able to go through with the bet in the end. He was determined not to measure up to Harry's high opinion of him. He would show him, and have eternal bragging rights, to boot. He certainly wasn't going to make a fool of himself in front of an audience, however, and so needed to find a way to let his genuine self shine—he shuddered at the thought and tried to remember who that was, anyway—in a fairly discreet way. He had a reputation to keep, dammit, and he wouldn't lose what he had worked years for to create. And it wouldn't be so unbearable with Christine, he reasoned to himself. She'd often seen his softer (yuck) side, and did seem to warm up quite a bit to that, he brightened a little at the thought. Maybe he'd get under her skin just enough, after all.
"So, Christine," Dan came over to her desk (still at arm's distance) after the night was adjourned and everybody wished each other a happy New Year, "I was thinking, it would be a shame if all this fun we've been having with our silly bet has to stop before New Year's actually here. If you're not busy—and I'm sure someone as beautiful as you already has a date—I was wondering if you'd like to join me for dinner tomorrow night? I know a great little French place..."
"Well, actually, I do already have plans," she admitted, and Dan's forced smile became a little more forced at the news, "but I think I'll cancel. I've been a little disappointed in your efforts with our silly bet," Christine tilted her head to the side, twirling a lock of hair around her fingers, "and besides, my car is getting a new paint job, and the winnings will come in really handy for that."
"Ha, ha, ha," Dan shook off her over-confidence."I'll call you tomorrow." And he bid her goodnight (from a distance, he still didn't trust her to keep her claws off him—what cruel irony had he brought upon himself, he wondered?). As he exited through the double doors in back of the courtroom, Roz came in through the front hall door.
"You ready?" she asked Christine, who really was having her car painted and had arranged to carpool with Roz.
"Yup," she answered, just clicking her briefcase shut and swinging it down to her side. As they walked down the hall to the elevator, they talked about their plans for New Year. Roz had gotten tickets to see WrestleMania from Bull for Christmas, so she decided to invite him along. When Christine shared her change of plans to go out to dinner with Dan, Roz raised her eyebrows and shook her head.
"Poor Dan, he didn't know what he was getting himself into when he made that stupid bet. But then, I didn't think you had it in you to take him on." said Roz while the elevator door slid closed.
"Well, I wouldn't have, but he just makes me so mad sometimes with all that...that..." Christine was looking for the right word to describe his pigheadedness, "pigheadedness!"—she found it. "Someone's gotta teach him a lesson, and for once I'm going to go to some extents to do it." resolved Christine.
"But what's the use? He's hit on you every single day for years. What makes you think he's gonna change?"
"Well, I don't know, but maybe if he got broke a little—in more ways than one—he wouldn't be so quick to make a fool of himself." Christine tried to sound convinced of her theory.
"Christine," leveled Roz, "You know Dan annoys me—and all of us—to no end, but you don't strike me as the kind of person who breaks stuff, including chauvinistic stuff like Dan. Heck, if there were eggshells on the floor, you'd probably be down there trying to glue them back together."
"Maybe," Christine gave Roz a furtive look and stood silent for a few seconds. Roz counted down those seconds right before..."Oh, who am I kidding?! I felt like a cheap bimbo today just trying to get him to kiss me—ugh, and I can't believe I tried to do that! Ugh, ugh, ugh!" She gagged at the numbered buttons to the side of the elevator doors. Roz felt her work was done. "And I told him I'd go out with him, too," she lamented. The doors slid open and they walked out into the main lobby.
"Well, you can't back out now," Roz reminded her, "unless you want to treat him to a thousand bucks and the sight of you in a French maid uniform." Christine made a face at the thought. "Be nice, but maybe you can slip in those pouts you do with that lower lip here and there, without taxing your conscience too much, mama still gots to pay for that paint job." They braced themselves for the frigid breeze as they entered into the parking garage, wishing the night guard good night and "see you next year."
