Keri checked her image in the mirror, again; making minute adjustments to the fragrant strand of tiny pikake blossoms that Lewis had wound through the hair pinned to the top of her head. She looked through the dressing area door and bit her lip as she saw the Juliet's cap that she had originally intended to wear laying on the bed. Sighing, she turned to meet Anja's serious charcoal eyes in the mirror. "I won't have a veil if I wear the flowers," she complained. "I'm supposed to have a veil."

Anja rolled her eyes. "You're the bride; you can do whatever you want." Suddenly those eyes brightened and Keri began to worry just what her sib was about to come up with. "Since you not wearing hat, we should all not wear them, that way it doesn't look funny!"

"Oh, no, you don't get out of it that easily. Besides it looks adorable on you."

"Great. Last thing I want."

Caryn leaned against the doorjamb, shaking her head at the two of them. "She might have a point," she said with a hopeful smile. It faded as soon as Keri raised an eyebrow at her. "Wellll, the only thing worse from mah point of view would have been a picture hat."

"You should be thanking me," Keri told her. "At least I didn't make you wear the lace tunic."

"God, yes. Thank you."

"Now what do I do about a veil?"

From the bedroom Sloan said, "We could take this one off of the cap and pin it in your hair." She held it up and examined it more closely. "I don't think we could hook it so that it would do the over the face thing and then the fold back thing, though." The cap was tossed unceremoniously back on the bed. "Ah, the heck with it. Anja's right. You're the bride and if you want to wear your favorite Hawaiian flowers instead of a veil, that's your privilege. Besides, after all the trouble Lewis went to, having them flown in and then putting them in your hair for you…"

"True. Okay, that's it then, just need my bouquet and…"

"No, you need to sit back down so I can fix your mouth." Alexa detached herself from where she'd been leaning against the room's back wall and reached for a tissue and the lip brush. "Not to mention your teeth. What did I tell you about that lip color?"

"Don't close my lips on anything for ten minutes," Keri repeated the instruction in a sing-song voice. "I thought it had been a lot longer than that."

"No, only five. Now open…yes, there we go," she said, wiping color off of the bride's front teeth. "Not too much came off on your teeth, just enough to be noticeable. Let me get a little color…okay. Now, don't touch your lips to anything, including your teeth, until I tell you otherwise, understood?"

"Yes, Alexa," Keri said dutifully. "Thank you, Alexa."

The tall chameleon gave what could be interpreted as a pleased smile. "You are welcome. All I ask in return is that you give me ten minutes to get to my suite and change before you head downstairs."

"You've got it."

She headed out to the main door. "And don't touch anything with your lips until I tell you that you can," she reminded.

Keri sighed as the door to the hall closed. She tapped her fingers on the counter restlessly and then looked up at her attendants. "Has it been ten minutes yet?" Anja threw her hands up in the air and flounced…yes, flounced out into the bedroom and then through the French doors and onto the balcony. "What did I say?"

... ...

Lewis fidgeted as he waited for Tom to come out of the bedroom. "We're late," he announced.

"The bride isn't down there yet, so we are not late," his best man assured him.

"I detest being late."

Ed Tate looked up from the chessboard. "You know, being late is an art form. It's something you need to practice to perfect."

If he practiced that art on…Lewis decided to share his observation. "Tate, if you value your skin, I suggest that you do not practice that art on Alexa. While they are trained in patience, chameleons do not care to be kept waiting unnecessarily. And if you cannot avoid being late, I suggest you not try to be cute about it. Attempts at manipulation are viewed even less favorably than tardiness."

The young doctor stared at him then cleared his throat. "Ahem. I, ah, appreciate the warning, Lewis. But just for the record, why are you warning me? I mean, I understand that you won't interfere with Alexa's choices, but, uh, this is like, helping me out."

Lewis snorted his derision. "Hardly. Your emotions may have Alexa off balance. If so, and you annoy her sufficiently, she may react without thinking. I do not wish to deal with her guilt should she do you irreparable harm."

"Oh. I see. Well, in the interest of saving you the bother of dealing with Alexa's guilt, I'll do my damnedest not to annoy her."

An eyebrow lifted as he noted Tate's attempt to hide a smile. "Good."

"All right, I'm ready," Tom said. "And the women still have not left your suite, so we are still not late."

"How fortunate for you."

... ...

Harry Foster shaded his Ray Bans with one hand and stared up at the unrelenting glare of the sun. Were they still in California or had the enclosed truck taken them over the border into Nevada…or maybe Mexico? He glanced around at the crowd gathered on the lawn. Caucasians predominated, though there were African-Americans, Asians, Latinos, and even Native Americans represented as well. They were still probably in California, he decided, or in Nevada.

"Hmm, quite a crowd for a supposedly secret event," Agent Marcie Newman commented. "Do you think they're all dominants?"

He looked back at the compactly built NSA agent. Her fingers stabbed at the bridge of her nose as though she was pushing up invisible spectacles. She evidently hadn't gotten used to not needing them after her Lasik surgery. "Other than the sapiens we know? Probably, they look a bit too uniformly fit and healthy for it to be otherwise."

Newman's freckled nose wrinkled. "Hadn't thought about that, but you're right. Damn, they look good."

Harry shook his head in reluctant admiration. They did look good. The women were, at the very least, attractive in a healthy girl next door sort of way and the men looked like the clean cut frat brothers he'd always resented at Stanford. "I'm still wondering why Lewis asked us…hell, insisted that we come."

His counterpart shrugged. "He likes us?" She chuckled at his dismay. "I'm kidding. I think we both know that however charming Lewis Ryan chooses to be that he does nothing without a reason."

"But what's his reason this time? That's the million dollar question."

"Keridwen Elizabeth Ashton, no doubt…though I hear she's worth more like a quite a few hundred million now that the Senator's dead."

He frowned, confused. "What does she have to do with it? All of our Intel showed that he's worth easily that much…legally, no less."

Newman sighed and put on what he'd dubbed 'her patient expression'. "He probably wants neutral witnesses to the fact that he did actually marry her. You know, even aside from the money, this marriage would have made him a U.S. citizen, after the paperwork was handled. He doesn't know that it's already been taken care of."

"I don't think any of them gives a shit about paperwork. Hell, they can probably produce it at will."

Nearly choking on laughter, Marcie wrapped her hands around her stomach. "Don't you think you're getting a little paranoid, even for the CIA?" she asked. "Oh God, don't make me laugh like that. It hurts!"

"I didn't think I was being funny," he began, breaking off abruptly as the earsplitting and unmistakable roar of Harley engines filled the air. He turned and stared at the driveway where an assortment of bikers wound their way through the property. One of the dominants, a twenty-something-young man with longish dark hair and an incongruously innocent face trotted over to the asphalt and spoke with one of them and pointed to an empty area behind the garage. "Son of a bitch," Harry muttered as he recognized the big hirsute biker in the faded fatigue pants and a camouflage t-shirt half-hidden by a scuffed leather vest decorated with a hand painted Special Forces emblem. "Dominant bikers?"

"What? Foster, you've been out in the sun too long." Newman told him. "I don't think dominants could look that motley if they tried."

He snorted. "Well, that's easier to believe than a group of real bikers working for the dominants. They're the ones, the men anyway, that kept us from following Lewis' people when they liberated Tom Daniels."

"Oh? Well, good for them. I'll have to thank them." She stared at his appalled expression. "Oh, come on, Foster. Don't tell me you really wanted those so-called experiments to go forward?"

"No," he sighed. "I guess not."

"Hey, the preacher's outside waiting," Anja called out. "Looks like he came with Attwood, Peterson and those Feebs, uh, Feds from LA. Huh, not bad looking, either...the preacher, I mean, not the Fed."

Caryn smiled as she watched Keri continue to fidget in front of the dressing room mirror. Anja was out on the balcony; leaning on the rail, watching the chaos below and giving them a play by play description of the action. And Sloan…oh. Sloan was sitting on the bed, finally, looking at the bouquets with a dreamy expression. "Earth to Sloan," she teased. "Time to go, we're running late so let's get Keri into her overdress and get moving."

"Huh? Oh. Right." Sloan turned and looked into the dressing room. "Uh, Caryn? She's already in her overdress."

"I know. I just wanted to see if you were paying attention." She turned toward the windows. "Anja, it's time."

The young dominant woman pushed back from the rail and tried to stride into the bedroom. The long skirt came close to tripping her up before she adjusted. "Damn stupid dress," she muttered, watching the hem now as she walked. "Why am I doing this?"

"Because you love your sib."

"Oh. Right. The stupid things I do for her."

"Sure, hon, you know you love it."

Anja's head lifted sharply. "You better be kidding."

Caryn relented. "Yes, I am." She grinned irrepressibly and reached for her flowers. "Don't forget to make sure Keri has her bouquet before you pick up yours."

A heartfelt sigh emerged from the maid of honor, and Caryn bit her lip to hold back a giggle. "Okay, okay. Why I got to have flowers again?"

"Hell, Anja, I don't know. It's tradition, and where I come from you don't mess with tradition."

"Humph. Or question it apparently."

"You've got it."

"I think it's nice." They both turned to stare at Sloan. "Well, the whole thing, not just the flowers. It's all so romantic. You know Lewis didn't have to do any of this, Keri wouldn't have asked for it."

"Lewis needs his head ex…" Anja shut her mouth abruptly, blinked, and began again. "Ja, you're right," she said, her voice just a bit strained. Lewis did romantic thing for my sib."

Sloan looked almost as surprised as Caryn felt as they watched Anja carefully lift the bouquet of Crimson Glory roses and baby's breath that was secured by ribbons of sapphire blue and metallic gold silk twisted with strands of pikake. Caryn mentally shook herself, wondering what Alexa and Keri had said, or more to the point, what Alexa had done to Anja when they had her alone in the bedroom. "Ohhhhhkay," she said and cradled her white roses with the periwinkle blue tinted baby's breath in the crook of her arm. "Let's get this show on the road."

... ...

Walter Attwood squinted through his wire-rimmed glasses as he watched the balcony. The maid of honor had just retreated into the suite; hopefully that meant that the bridal party was on their way down. The groom, his best man, and groomsmen Jeff and Ed had emerged some ten or fifteen minutes ago. The latter two had moved to organize the 'guests' who were wandering up from all over the property. Other than the soldiers on guard duty, it didn't look like anyone was going to miss the spectacle of Lewis getting married…in a sapiens' ceremony, no less. The kitchen door snapped open and Alexa emerged. "Well, not the bridal party, but I don't think there's anyone else left in the house," he murmured to Ray and Reverend Hanson.

"Ah, well then, I should probably take my position," the suspiciously fit minister returned. "Gentlemen," he said, nodding, and headed for the portable pulpit set under a pair of old growth trees.

"I'm telling you, Walter. That man ain't out of the game," Ray insisted.

"I don't doubt that at all." Walter shrugged. "It hardly matters. I know for a fact that he's an ordained minister, and even the dominants in the coexistence faction are paranoid about security. He didn't have the opportunity to make this location."

"I know. Still just sits wrong. Kind of lays on my gut, if you know what I mean."

Walter felt his eyebrows shoot up. Ray's 'gut' was rarely wrong. "Yes, I'm afraid that I do. Perhaps we should have a word with Karl Hunter?"

"Who?"

"Stephen's replacement as the facility's head of security."

"Oh, him. When did you get introduced?"

Smiling, he gave Ray what he hoped was a reassuring look. "In Alaska. He negotiated surrender terms for Copeland's men."

"Oh? And now he's with...oh, never mind. I saw him mooning over that Chinese girl." The ex cop looked up at him with an odd expression. "She is one of us, right?"

"Yes, she's sapiens. Karl met her at Fort Lewis, and yes, he does have a relationship with her."

"Good." Ray shifted then looked past him. "Oh, thank God. Here comes the bride."

... ...

The Right Reverend Bradley James Hanson the Second let his gaze drift over the crowd of people…very unusual people. From the briefing he'd received from Archangel, the majority of the residents of this compound were homo dominant. It was very interesting. The tumult of random feelings he normally picked up from a crowd was missing. Certainly there were emotions readable here and there, but it was terribly controlled for this large a gathering. "Hmm. Terribly controlled," he muttered half under his breath. "Yeah, that's the best way to describe it." He looked toward the house when the crowd seemed to turn in that direction almost in unison. Four women emerged. All dressed in shades of blue, they hesitated as they reached ground level, had a brief discussion, then formed up in a line.

"Oh, thank God," he heard Ray Peterson say. "Here comes the bride."

The traditional music began to play and the women stepped out, walking down the paved path to the open grassy area. Two redheads wearing light blue silky looking dresses with spaghetti straps led the way. Small oval caps that matched their dresses rested on the crown of their heads, and when one looked to the side he could see ribbons that dangled from the back. They each carried a small bouquet of white roses. More ribbons trailed down from the flowers.

Next in line was a vision in royal blue. Silver shot deep royal blue lace enveloped her from shoulder to knees, and a small matching cap with a short veil adorned dark loose curls. She carried a bouquet of white roses interspersed with what might be bluebells, but he was unable to positively identify the small flowers at this distance. Ribbons that matched the visible portion of her underskirt trailed from beneath the flowers. The young woman's expression was even more interesting. It appeared as though she was struggling mightily not to roll her eyes.

The bride, of course, brought up the rear. He'd actually met Keri Ashton once, years before he'd been ordained, when Archangel had insisted he join him at one of Senator Ashton's soirees in Georgetown. She looked a good bit slimmer now, though she still was generously curved, and her dark red hair was tamed into some sort of bun wound through with white flowers. She also looked far more relaxed than she'd been in Georgetown.

For some reason, the bride had not chosen to wear white. She was dressed in a very dark blue dress, shot with gold, that otherwise matched the one worn by her maid of honor. The bishop sleeves of the blue and gold lace overdress accented her still slender wrists, and the closeness of the high lace collar that set off the upswept hairstyle confirmed his assumption that she had lost weight. She certainly looked healthy, another detail that he would report during his debriefing.

Out of the corner of his eye, Brad spotted one of the dominants with a video camera of some sort. Unless he was sadly mistaken it was one of the newest digital models that could interface with a computer. No…it looked even more advanced than the prototype Archangel had been playing with last week. He bit back a sigh…that was one thing that Walter Attwood had honestly reported. The dominants had the coolest toys. If he could get a copy of that video file…it would make his report so much simpler. But there was no way he'd be able to get at it; his skills weren't good enough to get past the dominant's 'radar'. Hell, Archangel himself would be hard pressed to manage it. He would just have to 'innocently' request a copy. While her soon to be husband would no doubt veto any such request, Keri might be approachable on the subject.

Leaving the path, the lady in question advanced through the grassy aisle behind her bridesmaids, but unlike them, her eyes were modestly downcast and a slight frown curved her lips. That was a sign of trouble, he thought. Why was she looking so humble, or was it submissive? Keridwen Elizabeth Ashton, from what he had been told, could never be accused of being either. What in heaven's name had these people done to her? He focused on the groom, one Lewis Ryan, and found only the smoothness of carefully wrought shields. One way or another, he had to figure out what kind of duress Miss Ashton was under and report it. He bit back a sigh. If she were that repressed, there was no way he could ask her for the video, she'd go directly to Lewis.

Speaking of the devil, the silver-haired groom stepped forward as the bride approached the pulpit, watching with a frown as she stopped moving. Her brow furrowed as she hesitated. One delicate hand left the bouquet and reached down to slightly lift the long underskirt. Brad found himself frowning now, thoroughly confused. Then one foot, clad in a high-heeled pump that matched the dress, took a careful step forward, wobbled slightly, and then found firm footing. He could almost hear her sigh of relief as she dropped the skirt and continued processing. She finally reached her fiancé's side and looked up at him with a sunny smile.

Brad's eyebrows rose as the pieces finally fell into place. She hadn't had her eyes modestly or submissively downcast…she'd been searching the ground for obstacles. This revelation was confirmed when he heard the groom whispering to her.

... ...

"You made it," Lewis murmured, his lips twitching with humor.

"Safe and sound," Keri whispered back with a smile. "It was really close there for a second, though. Damned heels."

The minister cleared his throat and she looked up at him guiltily. "Are we ready?" he asked.

She looked back at Lewis who nodded firmly and held out his hand for hers as Reverend Hanson told them to join hands. Sighing with contentment she turned her gaze back to the minister and waited expectantly. Lewis gently squeezed her fingers and a quick sidelong glance told her that he was ridiculously pleased about something. Later she'd have to find out about what. Her attendants had peeled off to the left as they approached the pulpit and were now standing in an angled line that matched that of the groomsmen to her right. A half-smothered noise emerged from the trio. From the looks the other two gave her, her sib was the culprit. Her eyes flicked quickly at Lewis, and she discovered that however amused she might be at Anja's faux pas, her groom was not.

... ...

The minister instructed them to join hands and Lewis smiled down at his mate as he enfolded her delicate fingers in his grasp. Keridwen looked up at him through her lashes, her eyes shone and a slight blush colored her cheeks. She appeared almost as pleased as he felt. And he was quite pleased. For all that he had begun this for her sake, he'd come to realize that it suited him well. Now the laws of the land would bind her to him as firmly as did the traditions and the actual physiological bonds recognized by his people. No one could dispute his right to keep her by his side.

He tensed as Reverend Hanson asked for any objections to the marriage. Intellectually, he knew that no one here would dare object, but it still put him on edge and he would no doubt remain so until the ceremony resumed.

A noise from the bridesmaids caught his attention. Anja had made some sort of comment and had been shushed…one of these days, Lewis thought, I am going to turn that child over my knee and…he kept his expression clear of the frown that wanted to emerge. No, she'd probably enjoy that. Glancing to his left he saw that his mate once again had found Anja's antics amusing. Ah well, if Keridwen was not offended, then it was not yet an issue. The minister was speaking again. The usual blather of the ceremony was easily tuned out, at least on a subconscious level. This allowed him to relax and concentrate on more important things…such as how to avoid the tedium of the dinner celebration and evening party so that he could take his mate back to their suite and…

Reverend Hanson cleared his throat, and a flash of concern from his mate rippled through him. Obviously, he'd missed his cue. He looked at the minister with one brow raised in question, and gave Keridwen's hands a reassuring squeeze. The other man began to repeat the groom's portion of the vows they had chosen. No wonder they'd been concerned. He suppressed a smile and dutifully echoed the traditional words. He felt rather than heard his bride's sigh of relief as he spoke. "To love, honor, and cherish, so long as we both shall live."

Now it was her turn. The words flowed easily, but her voice was tremulous. Lewis wasn't certain if it was from nerves or emotion; so much of each was evident within her. His left eyebrow rose again as she reached the final phrase of her vows. He failed to totally suppress his chuckle as she finished with, "To love, honor, and obey, so long as we both shall live." Fortunately for him, considering her outraged expression, most of the bridal party and a few members of the audience were smiling, coughing slightly, or covering their mouths to muffle their own laughter at the thought of his rather overly independent mate practicing obedience.

... ...

Keri frowned when Lewis did not respond to the reverend's instruction to repeat after him. He looked startled when the other man cleared his throat, then he actually blushed slightly before he smiled at her and squeezed her hand. She wondered what had distracted him so thoroughly. He was back in control now and making up for it. The blue of his irises was at its most intense as he looked into her eyes and his deep voice was so firm and assured that it gave her goosebumps. She shivered as he promised to love, honor, and cherish her so long as they both lived. It was literal in their case. There would not be a widowed partner left behind some day to continue to love the one who had died.

It was interesting that, she thought as she began repeating her portion of the vows, the sapiens marriage ceremony put into words the same promises enforced by the dominants' mating bond. Their people were more alike in personal goals and values than either side would care to admit. She'd have to share that with Mark. Maybe focusing on the similarities between them would help coexistence more than trying to resolve their differences.

The ceremony was almost over. She took a deep breath before repeating her final promise, "To love, honor, and obey, so long as we both shall live." Her eyes opened wide in shock as a strangled sound escaped Lewis' tightly clamped lips. He was laughing! Of all the nerve! Muffled sounds from both sides of the pulpit caught her attention. She glanced around and was treated to the sight of most of her friends fighting the urge to laugh, and the remainder giving in to it. Dropping her eyes, she blinked back tears. It was not at all funny. She and Lewis had chosen the old wording purposely because it followed the traditions of his people. And she did try to obey; she knew he only gave her outright orders when he was concerned about her safety.

... ...

Anja tried but failed to smother her laughter, and raised her bouquet to hide the attempt. Finally, a use for the damn flowers. Her sib was promising to obey her mate…for the rest of her life, no less! It was just too funny. Keri might listen to Lewis, but she always made her own decisions, even if he didn't approve. She jumped slightly as the…Sloan whispered urgently in her ear.

"Stop that! What's wrong with you, you've got her crying now."

Biting back a retort, Anja tried to get a look at Keri's face. Her sib felt miserable, but that didn't mean…uh oh. Lewis was giving her a nasty look. She bit her lip and quelled her amusement so that Keri would no longer pick it up, then sighed and looked up at…Sloan. It galled her that the sapiens had noticed her sib's distress and she had not. but, since she had… "Sorry. Thanks for telling me." Anja had to bite back her grin as Sloan blinked in shock at her response.

"Uh, you're welcome. I'm…sure you didn't mean it," Sloan told her, her voice uncertain.

Nodding, Anja turned her attention back to the ceremony. Keri really was upset. She gnawed on her lower lip as she tried to think of some way to help but found none.

... ...

Okay, Brad thought, this had never happened to him before. Archangel had briefed him fairly thoroughly on Keri Ashton, and that briefing had included a discussion of her rebellious nature, but surely, it wasn't bad enough to warrant such amusement over the vow to obey from her friends, let alone her groom?

Lewis, he noted, had finally succeeded in choking back his amusement and was now very obviously concerned. Brad could feel that concern bordering on alarm as tears welled up in Keri's large gray eyes. The groom gave him a sharp look. "I suggest you get on with it and tell me to kiss the bride…now," he hissed, "before she loses it."

Brad nodded and straightened. "With the authority vested in me by God and by the State of California, I now pronounce you man and wife." He frowned slightly. They had insisted on the old format rather than the more commonly used 'husband and wife'. "You may kiss the bride," he told Lewis.

The dominant turned his full attention to his new wife, and cupping her cheeks in his hands, whispered to her and then kissed her. It began gently then deepened as she started to relax.

While he completed the declaration of marriage, Brad admired how Lewis used the caress to discretely wipe away Keri's tears. "What God has joined together, let no man put asunder," he finished. As the bride quieted and returned her new husband's kiss, his hands slipped down to her neck then moved to her waist. Finally, they broke apart and Lewis gave him an expectant look. Brad nodded and motioned them to turn around and face their guests. "For the first time I give you Mr. and Mrs. Ryan, Lewis and Keridwen." The humans…sapiens in the crowd began to applaud, as did two or three of the dominants. After a moment or so of confusion, the remaining dominants joined them. Evidently, no one had informed them of what to expect. Lewis seemed to know exactly what he was doing. Before the applause had died down, he had tucked his wife's hand in his arm and started down the aisle. Brad sighed in relief.

ELSEWHERE

Randall sighed as the SUV ate up the miles along Highway 99. He'd finally decided that Sarah was correct in her belief that his Zanzibar Red Porsche 911 would stand out too much in the Central Valley...after she'd suggested she could drive it so that he could get some rest. Not that the Porsche Cayenne SUV was much of a step down, luxury-wise. They both had the Turbo Tiptronic package, and the highest consumer ratings of almost any vehicle or vehicle type. And he couldn't have stretched out in the back for a nap in the coupe, even if he had been willing to let her drive it.

She glanced up in the mirror and met his eyes. As usual, hers looked as though she was keeping some particularly wicked secret. It was one of the things he liked best about her; that and her ability to deal with his moods. Sarah seemed to be the only one who really understood him. "We're almost there," she informed him. "So you want to stop and eat before we go to…"

"No. Let's just get it over with. Have you been able to reach Richard yet?" he asked as he sat up and reached over the seats for her cell phone. She smacked his hand when he 'accidentally' brushed her right breast as he stretched toward the dashboard holder, and then grabbed the phone and handed it back to him.

"What are you trying to do? Distract me and get us into an accident? We'll have time for more of that when we finish with business."

He smirked, and played with the tight dark curls that covered her head like a cap. "We could always take another rest stop…there's got to be a park of some kind nearby…or a field."

Sarah's sigh was laced with annoyance. "No thank you. The last one smelled like crap."

"Actually, it smelled like urine, but…"

"You know what I mean."

"Okay, okay. Hmm, lots of motels…"

"Randall…"

He snickered and reached around the headrest to stroke her cheek. "All right, I'll behave. Let's just get to…what the hell's the butt-fuck town's name?"

"Clovis. And it's a perfectly respectable small town…"

"Yeah, full of good ole' boys who wait all year for the big row-day-oh."

She groaned. "Just do both of us a favor, huh? Keep the snide comments to yourself, or you're never going to find Daniels without him knowing you're coming. You'll cause such a commotion everyone in the valley will know you're there."

"No one can take a joke, huh? Typical. Why can't anyone laugh anymore?"

"Lots of people, even sapiens, still laugh; they just don't generally share your sense of humor."

He snorted and dropped back against the seat.

... ...

Sarah watched his eyes close and then moved into the right lane, their exit was coming up. After following the signs, she turned onto east bound Herndon Avenue. Several lights later, she grabbed her wayfarers with the Oakland A's logo to block out the glare of the midmorning sun. A few more lights had her grumbling under her breath. The sign back at the exit had said Clovis was six miles away, but with the traffic, it was beginning to feel like sixty. She glanced to her left down a road marked as Maroa. There was a hell of a lot of traffic waiting to turn left onto it…and the bulk of the passengers were very well dressed. A few of the vehicles had packages wrapped in various white, silver, and gold patterned gift wrap. "Hmm, must be a wedding down there. It must be a pretty big one, judging by the number of cars."

She bit the inside of her cheek to hold in her laughter as Randall gave a pained sigh. "You see, that's what's wrong with the sapiens. Everything has to have a ceremony with a crowd in attendance. It's a wonder they ever get anything serious accomplished."

The snort slipped out. "Like you're always serious," she muttered, glancing at him in the mirror.

He shrugged. "I am when I need to get something accomplished. That's all that's necessary. I do not, however, need a crowd of witnesses."