Monday morning Ben is busy with paperwork when Tom Barnaby walks into the office.
"Good morning, Jones, Stevens."
"Morning, Sir." Ben looks up for a second or two to greet his boss and turns back to his paperwork.
"Good morning, Sir, how was your weekend?" Gail Stevens asks.
"There have been better ones, Stevens."
"I'm sorry to hear that," she replies. When the DCI doesn't offer any further insight, she turns back to her own desk.
"I met Mrs. Barnaby the other day," Ben states a while later when he's done with his reading.
"Yes, I know,"is the DCI's court reply.
'Well, of course you do. Why do I bother telling you anything? You know everything long before me, anyway.'
"Had I known we're using same dry cleaner's, you could have saved her a trip the other day and picked up my suit, too."
Ben decides his attempt at small talk has failed miserably and doesn't respond. It's enough that his boss is chasing him around like mad on the job, he really doesn't need a second job as Tom Barnaby's runner in his increasingly spare free time, too. He hears a faint giggle from behind himself, Stevens! He ignores her, too, and picks up another file someone dumped on his desk.
"Oh, by the way, I hope you don't have any plans for tonight, do you?"
Ben looks back up questioningly. "Well, no..."
"Good, because Mrs. Barnaby insists on inviting you over to dinner."
Something in the look Tom Barnaby bestows upon him makes Ben wonder how unpleasant this invitation might turn out to be.
"Seven thirty all right with you?"
"Uhm, yes, Sir."
"Good."