"Alright, Scherbatsky, are you ready to have your mind blown?"

Robin looks up at him with her arms crossed over her chest as she sits at her makeup chair. "Probably not, but go ahead."

Barney narrows his eyes at her for not playing along but goes on as instructed. "Your performance thus far has been first-rate, so I'm adding a little theatrics into the mix. And now," he grandly announces, for your next challenge – "

"There isn't going to be a next challenge." He opens his mouth, about to make a rebuttal, but she's way ahead of him. "I don't care how much you offer me." She doesn't exactly have Barney's level of wealth – not without touching her trust fund, anyway – but she's holding her own. It certainly isn't worth selling her integrity.

Barney can easily read it on her that money alone isn't going to work, but he also has the advantage of knowing bribery has nothing to do with this. He just has to get her to admit it. "Oh search your soul, Robin." He regards her with shrewd eyes as he slowly circles her chair, the shark narrowing in on his prey. "You and I both know this wasn't about the money. Sure, Metro News 1 pays you jack, and hey – " He suddenly swoops down onto his knees beside her, all the better to stare her down and intently focus his temptation, like the proverbial devil on her shoulder. " – a little green salad on the side is good for you, me, and Mr. McGee."

Robin shakes her head, biting back a smile. "Seriously? Who talks like that?"

"But what baby really likes," he continues, holding her gaze meaningfully, "is the thrill of pulling one over on those bean-counters who underappreciate you and still haven't promoted you."

That strikes a nerve with Robin. Who's she kidding? It hits the target dead-on.

It had felt so good to stick it to her bosses for once. In that moment in front of the live cameras, she knows she would have still said 'nipple' even if there was no money involved. In fact, just remembering back on that ridiculous and degrading hot dog cart story she'd been assigned, she wants nothing more than to do it all over again. She's ready for Barney's next challenge alright.

Shivering, Robin tries to shake it off, but it's no use. He's gotten in her head and she's knows he's right: about Metro News 1, about why she wants to do it, about everything.

Barney sees what she's thinking and he knows he's got. Swooping around to her other shoulder just for that added element of surprise to keep her off-balance, he goes in for the kill. "So, for two more hundie sticks, baby's going to look in the camera and say this…." He brings his hand up to cup his mouth as he bends to whisper in her ear. "'I'm a dirty, dirty girl', and then spank yourself, telling daddy how good it feels."

To say that Robin's greatly tempted by his proposition is an understatement. She really does love the thrill of it, that aspect of reprisal and retaliation. Revenge is a seductive thing, and doing it right under their noses makes it all the more exhilarating. But those impulses are at war with her sense of professionalism and, with this particular challenge, her simple dignity.

She lifts her hands in what he initially takes for surrender but it's merely her attempt to break out of his spell. "I've got to get back to work," she shelves any further debate, getting up from her chair. "See you, Barney."

He steps into her path, blocking her way as she tries to leave the room and pinning her with questioning eyes.

There's a part of Robin that would like to flat-out tell him 'no' and just end this now, once and for all. But at the moment there's an equally strong part of her that really wants to say 'yes'. "Baby's gonna think about it," she eventually admits, because even she doesn't know which side is going to end up winning.

The following day, when Robin gets sent out on her next story, all remaining level-headed thinking goes out the window.

The assignment is no better than before, no less of a joke. She doesn't know why she keeps hoping this time it will magically be different, that suddenly her bosses will take her seriously and let her report real, important news. They never have before and they never will. It is never going to change.

She started out her career in New York City with so much hope, but now she's become disenchanted and embittered by the whole experience. What's the point in trying? What's the point in having things like integrity and professionalism when she only ends up at hotdog carts and old people homes anyway? If this is all she'll ever amount to then she might as well have some fun with it, give herself and Barney a little excitement along the way while earning a couple extra hundred on the side.

And so she finishes off her broadcast on the tragic passing of New York's oldest twins by proclaiming herself a dirty, dirty girl, slapping her bottom, and letting out a halfhearted "ow" for Barney's benefit.

Sinking to that level on live TV makes Robin feel like a part of her soul just died, but if she's going to be a joke she might as well embrace it, right?

…..Come to think of it, maybe it's not her soul dying. Maybe this is just what giving up feels like.

But the second the report is over, her field producer gets a call and informs Robin that their boss wants to see her in his office. She's certain she's in for it now, and a brutal deluge of cold stomach-churning remorse swamps her.

With all her rebelliousness deflated, she's angry with Barney, but most of all angry with herself. How could she allow herself to compromise her employment this way? She may have been going nowhere fast, but she still always took her work seriously. Up until now, that was the one thing her dad couldn't fault her on: Scherbatskys never get fired.

Looks like she's about to disappoint him on every level.

Walking into her boss's office, Robin is well aware she has no choice but to grovel – and she hasn't pride enough left to even find that demeaning. "Before you say anything, Mr. Adams, I just want to say that I really like working here at Metro News 1, and I – "

"That's great," he cuts her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "So my dog keeps making this terrible chocking sound and – "

"What?" Robin questions, stunned.

"You have dogs, right? What do you think that means?"

"Take him to the vet?" she suggests in a daze. It's hard not to feel dazed when she was fully expecting a stern lecture and angry yelling, when she went in preparing an impassioned plea to keep her job, and now all he's talking about is his dog.

"Genius! That's one I owe you."

"Was that all?" she gently ventures, still waiting for the other shoe to fall. But he assures her that was it and is already back to his paperwork, ignoring her presence. She gets up from the chair and turns to leave, but before she goes she just has to ask. "And….and nothing about the twins story?" She knows she's tempting fate here and that anyone else would just take the break and run, but it's impossible to believe he's not going to scold her a little for her on-air antics, at the very least tell her to knock it off.

"Oh yeah, yeah, great job on that one," he says off-handedly, not even bothering to look back up. "New York loves you. You're a superstar," he mumbles insincerely, the same artificial words and tone he uses to deal with all troublesome insecure talent. He brushes her off with a curt and firm, "Bye-bye", making it crystal clear she should leave him alone now.

And that's when Robin realizes a truth even sadder than getting fired: no one, not ever her boss, watches Metro News 1.

The minute she closes his office door behind her, Robin whips out her phone and calls Barney. "What's next?" she demands.

It goes on like this for days with no end in sight. By that Thursday night, ready to accept his next dare, Robin meets Barney at a college bar halfway between the station and GNB – a bar he knows the gang would never set foot in.

"Well," she announces, hooking her purse around the empty chair across from Barney's, "I just wrapped up a live newscast by honking my own boobs."

"And great TV was had by all," Barney smirks.

Robin laughs, shaking her head as she sits down with him.

"Alright, Scherbatsky, new challenge," he proposes. "And this one's big, but so is the cash reward. For $1,000 – you heard me – all you have to do is get up there on the news and do the Ickey Shuffle."

"What the hell is that?"

"A legendary dance made famous by Elbert "Ickey" Woods of the Cincinnati Bengals," Barney explains. "You see, every time he'd score a touchdown, he'd do this celebratory dance. Super awesome," he raves, and in an attempt to dissuade her, Barney adds, "but also super conspicuous. Some would even say ostentatious."

He eyes her carefully, but his latest challenge, outrageous as it is, doesn't seem to have any effect. "It was so ostentatious, in fact, it led the NFL to create an Excessive Celebration penalty."

When she still remains unmoved, Barney pushes up from his chair, determined to show her just how silly she'll look. "Here, I'll demonstrate it for you. You've got to shuffle your feet to the right while pretending to hold a football with that same hand," he says, doing just that in an overstated matter to look all the more stupid. "Then shuffle to the left and switch up the imaginary football too. Finally, you'll finish up by pretend-spiking the ball and lifting your hand triumphantly to the heavens in an 'I'm number one' sign."

Even after the disturbing visual, Robin's not protesting, leading Barney to tack on, "And all the while as you're doing it you'll say, 'Elbert "Ickey" Woods, the Bengals were fools to cut you in '91. Your 1,525 rushing yards and your 27 touchdowns will not be forgotten. So Coach Dave Shula, screw you and your crappy steakhouse!'"

He made that up as he was going, but it works to his advantage because it's so long and ridiculous, especially alongside the dance, that now she must realize it won't go unnoticed. Doing all that on-air, she'll make a complete fool of herself.

But Robin merely shrugs, resigned. "Just write it down for me. What do I care? It's not like anyone's watching anyway, right?"

Eyebrows furrowed, Barney sinks back down into his chair. As fun as this has been, he's getting a little worried now. Oh, he's been successful in getting her to resent Metro News 1 and her bosses there who are undervaluing her and who, as it turns out, don't even watch either. But the end result was supposed to make her fed up enough to do something about it. Instead, Robin just keeps going along with his challenges. He thought it would spur her on when he started making them increasingly ridiculous, but so far she hasn't budged. Now he's starting to get afraid his plan may actually backfire.

The next night, it's all set to go down.

Robin is doing a live remote with New York's oldest hansom cab driver during the 11pm news while Barney watches from MacLaren's, where he made sure to have Carl turn all on the TVs to Metro News 1.

"In your past sixty years on the job, what is your most exciting memory?" he watches Robin ask, and Barney perks up.

"This is it," he whispers beneath his breath. Standing up with his drink in hand, ready to toast the awesomeness that's about to happen, Barney addresses the bar. "Everyone, everyone, if I may direct your attention to the television, you are about to see something amazing."

Outside, just across from Central Park, Robin has the plan memorized. She'll finish up this humdrum interview, climb down from the carriage, and once on the ground she'll end her report by doing the dance and reciting Barney's script. She's ready to do it all, get her thousand bucks and get out of here – because not only is this not news, but the horse next to them just took a dump in the street and it's starting to smell.

She can barely contain her impatience as Henry the hansom cab driver continues to drone on about the fourth time Mickey Mantle rode in his cab back in '72. She half drowns him out, putting on her game face and mentally preparing for her most humiliating challenge yet, when she catches Henry say, "But the most exciting moment, that would have to be this one, right now."

"What?" she asks, surprised.

"Look at me!" Henry declares in pure happiness. "I'm on TV! I never thought I'd have my story told." The man turns to her with a look of serine gratitude. "Thank you, Miss Robin Scherbatsky. Thank you."

And all at once Robin recognizes what a mistake she's made this past week. She may report fluff pieces and no one but Barney may be watching, but still, look at the difference she made to this man – and it's surely the same with the owner of the hotdog cart too. This isn't what she wanted to be doing with her life, not even close, but that doesn't mean her job isn't truly important all the same.

She nods, placing her hand on his shoulder. "It's an honor to tell your story, Henry."

Barney watches Robin look directly in the camera as she stands up inside the cab and starts an inspiring declaration. It's clear she believes in herself again; she's got her pride and self-respect back, and that's wonderful to see.

But now that means he won't get to witness the Icky Shuffle.

Much more importantly, he reminds himself to focus, it means Robin won't do a damn thing about her job. With the assignments Metro News 1 doles out, it will only be a short matter of time before she's discouraged again – and this horse driver can't follow her around 24/7.

But then, just as Robin's pledging that despite their low viewership, she herself still takes pride in what they do, her boot slips on the metal edging of the stairs and she goes tumbling down from the carriage, landing with a SQUISH directly in the pile of poop.

"Oh! Oh my God, I'm covered in horse crap!"

The camera pans down and Barney soon discovers how accurate her statement was. Either there is something seriously wrong with that horse, or they've been shoveling the poop for the whole carriage fleet there because there's a huge mound of it, and Robin's fallen right in the middle.

"Ow," she says, trying to lift herself out of the poop and in the process feeling the pain from the fall she took. When she finally manages to sit up, she can see her oozing locks and that causes a new exclamation. "Oh my God! It's in my hair! Oh my – ouch!" she breaks off again as she attempts a kneeling position to push up off the ground. "Ow, oh my knee."

The live remote cuts off then and Barney is left standing there, decidedly torn between the undeniable awesomeness of what he just witnessed and feeling genuinely bad about it because the butt of the joke in this case was Robin.

"That was beyond my wildest dreams," Barney playfully tells her as he walks into Robin's dressing room. But after just one look at her any further teasing remarks die in his throat.

She was such a mess – literally and figuratively – after the horse poop incident that Robin's producer felt bad for her and let her use Sandy's shower to clean up while Patrice got her a change of clothes. Right now she's sitting in her makeup chair in sweats and a t-shirt with a towel wrapped around her shoulders and her hair still drying.

She looks up at him with a faint frown. Mostly she just looks miserable. "I can't take any jokes right now, Barney. I just scrubbed myself for a good half hour to get the smell out. I had to wash my hair five times."

Barney clears his throat tactfully, pulling over a chair to sit beside her. "Look, I know it may not seem like it now, but I'm really not some coldhearted prick who just wanted to watch you dance like a puppet on a string. Sure, that's part of – okay, most of – the fun with other people. But with someone as strong and fierce as you…..watching your spirit get broken was just, well, sad. And the whole manure thing, while somewhat way awesome," he admits, and Robin rolls her eyes, "wasn't what I had in mind at all. I just, I thought if I could make you see how much they've been undervaluing you here that would give you the push you need to find something else, something new where you can actually be doing what you've wanted to do."

"I never meant for this – " He gestures at her wet hair and sweats. " – to happen, and I sure as hell didn't mean to make you give up on yourself...Because you shouldn't...because I've never met anyone like you and there's no doubt in my mind that you can do whatever you set your mind to." He reaches over and picks up a piece of her wet hair, worrying it between his fingers before mischievously flinging it back at her, grinning as it lands across her cheek, leaving droplets of moisture on her lips. "I'm terrible at this stuff, but I am sorry this whole thing got so out of hand...Maybe I'm just an asshole."

Robin shakes her head. "No. You're not."

"No, you're right; I'm awesome," he readily agrees, making her laugh.

"It's alright. I get it, Barney."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I really do. I understand you meant well. The reason behind it, that was sweet. But I...I don't think there's anything to be done." She looks around at the broom closet she calls an office, looks out further to the darkened studio beyond and a desk she'll never sit behind. "When I first got this job in New York City, I was so excited – and scared too, but the good kind of scared, the kind where it's this adrenaline rush of a big new challenge and you know your life's about to change forever. It felt like all my dreams were coming true. And then I got here, and I realized what Metro News 1 really is. But at first I rallied. I told myself it was a setback but one I'd overcome. I had this crazy idea that I could be the one to make all the difference, that I could turn things around, turn the whole station around and within six months we'd all be delivering real, serious news. But I know now I was only fooling myself. I can't do it. I will never be able to turn things around here." She shrugs sullenly. "I guess I'm just not good enough."

"Hey, Robin," he says surprisingly gravely, making sure she holds his eye. "That's not true. What did I just say about doing anything you put your mind to? You're good enough for Metro News 1. The problem is you're too good for them."

"But it's more than just that. What if it's not a matter of being talented and driven and devoted to your craft? What if my dad was right and I'm just not cutout for this business…for this town?"

"You want to be more cutthroat? I can teach you to be cutthroat," he offers like it's an easy fix.

"Thanks." Robin twists her mouth up cynically. "But I got all the lessons I need in being cutthroat from my dad. That's not the problem….I don't know," she grasps blindly, because she honestly doesn't know exactly what's the matter with her, why she feels so damn ready to give up. "Sometimes I feel like I just don't fit in, like I won't ever belong here."

A deep line of apprehension furrows Barney's brow. "What are you saying? Are you thinking about moving back to Canada?"

"No," Robin replies adamantly enough that his heart returns to its normal rhythm. "I love New York. Even if it turns out I can't make it here, I still love it. But I've been here for months and all I have to show for it is Patrice. Even my dogs came from Canada."

"Now you've got me," he reminds her, "and I'm awesome enough that I've gotta equal ten, maybe twenty, other people."

"Yeah, now I have you," Robin smiles. "And I appreciate that, I really do." She sighs heavily as she sweeps her hair to one side, lifting the towel off her shoulder and wrapping it around her hair, using it to squeeze out the remaining water. "I'm sorry for all of this. I know it's stupid; I'm being stupid. But sometimes I still feel like such an outsider. Something happens – like those horrible guys who kept mocking me on the way over with 'Ow, my knee!'" she parrots their insultingly childish voices, "and 'It's in my hair!' – and, just like that, I miss how welcoming and kind people are back home….Or I might get really excited about something and slip into my old accent for a word or two, and suddenly people are looking at me like I've grown a second head."

"Well, that's just because not everyone here speaks Canadian. But, Robin, that doesn't mean – "

"It's okay, Barney," she stops him with a smile, setting a hand to his leg. "I'm just a little homesick and feeling sorry for myself right now, but I'll get over it. And I don't want you to think any of this is your fault, because what you were doing was a good thing. I mean, really messed up and borderline sociopathic, but with good intentions. Come to think of it," she grins, "that pretty much sums you up entirely."

"Aww, you're so sweet," Barney coos.

"Come on," she laughs, patting his leg as she stands up. "Let's get out of here."

"How about we have a late dinner?" He looks down at her sweatpants, t-shirt, and still-damp hair and screws up his face. "Someplace casual."

"Shut up." Robin shoves her hip into his shoulder to Barney's laughter.

"And we'll figure out what your options are beyond Metro News 1."

During dinner the two of them talked and Robin decided she's going to look for something better. Then, once she has a new position secured, she'll quit Metro News 1.

All and all, things had gone well.

Still, what she said about being homesick continues to stay with him. It was in the back of Barney's mind all throughout dinner and continues to be on the car ride home. He just can't stop thinking about how sad she seemed. When he left her, Robin was back in good spirits, but though she may have gotten over it for now as she claimed she would, he still wants to do something for her to solve the problem permanently.

By the time he arrives at his apartment building Barney's already come up with an idea, and the second he gets back in The Fortress he whips out his phone and calls Marshall.

"Hey, dude," Marshall answers sounding sleepy but congenial enough. "Why are you calling so late? Wait, did you get another public urination citation? Barney, you've got to stop peeing anywhere you want to."

"No, it's not that." As an FBI man, even one working in something as nonthreatening as corporate corruption and espionage, he could pull a few strings to get out of those citations on his own anyway if need be. But since he is undercover, tasked with fitting in with the goodtime 'bros' of GNB, the bureau decided it would be best if he handled any legal troubles the same way they do: by using knowledgeable lawyers and high-powered friends to get out of it. "I need a favor, and I was hoping you could help me out. You know how we do lots of international business at GNB?"

"Man, I've told you," Marshall exclaims uneasily, "I don't want to hear about anything you guys do there. It's easier to claim plausible deniability if I'm actually in the dark."

"Psh, it wouldn't matter anyway," Barney scoffs. "Attorney/client privilege. Besides, that's not what this is about." He still has every intention of keeping Robin his little secret for now, so he thought up this subterfuge on the elevator ride up. "I have this new client from Canada and I'm looking for someplace authentically Canadian to make him feel at home where I can sell him on the pitch. I just thought with you being somewhat from that sphere, and the whole Little Minnesota you've got going at The Walleye Saloon, maybe you could hook me up with something similar from above the border."

"Okay, I'll see what I can do."

Robin spends the weekend searching out new job leads, sticking to what she told Barney. But come Monday afternoon, her producer informs her Joel Adams wants to see her after work. She can already see the writing on the wall and immediately calls Barney.

"Looks like my career plans are getting a jumpstart," she wryly informs him.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm getting called in for a big meeting. I think my boss must have finally watched our broadcasts." He hears her let out of huff of agitation. "I was going to wait until I found something first, but there's no way I'm going to let myself be fired from a job I was about to quit anyway."

"I'm sorry, Robin. But this is a good thing, right?"

"I guess…."

He can tell she doesn't really believe it. "I'm taking you out tonight after work. I'll meet you at the station. I think I know just the thing to cheer you up."

"I'm not sleeping with you, Barney," she jokes unenthusiastically.

"Nice try, Scherbatsky. But, geez, everything isn't always about sex."

"What?" Robin asks with a hint of a smile in her tone. "You're the one who always – "

But she hears a click, letting her know he's hung up.

Barney is waiting in the town car with Ranjit when Robin comes out of the building and lets herself into the car.

"Hello!" the driver gives his usual greeting.

"Hey, Ranjit!" Robin returns his welcome.

Barney instantly notices a totally different attitude about her. She seems keyed up and excited. He figures she's buzzing on the adrenaline rush of finally letting Metro News 1 know what she thinks of them. "So? Did you do it? Did you quit?"

She turns to him, taking a deep breath. "No."

"Robin," he frowns.

"Let me finish: I didn't need to. It seems that, thanks to your little game, I've gained something of a cult following online. Thousands of new followers for myself and the network." Her face lights up with a mystified smile. "And get this; the whole falling in horse poop video went viral after someone put it on Youtube."

Barney beams. "I know! That was me!" She looks at him sharply. "What? No, it wasn't," he tries.

Robin gives him a smirk that says she knows better. "Well, as humiliating as it was, because of all that I've been promoted – from field reporter to co-anchor right alongside Sandy!"

"Really?" he says, pleased for her.

"I mean, it's still Metro News 1, but it's definitely better. Maybe I can turn things around, after all," she asserts with a broad grin.

"Robin, that's great!"

"You're not mad that I stayed?" she asks tentatively.

"Mad?" He gives her a look like she's crazy. "Why would I be mad? If you're happy, I'm happy."

"Thanks, Barney," she smiles.

"Okay." He claps his hands, rubbing them together. "Tonight's mission has officially changed from cheering you up to celebrating hard."

Robin giggles happily. "MacLaren's?"

"Ordinarily, I'd say yes. But tonight I've got someplace extra special in mind."

"Now remember," Barney tells her as Robin sits in the back of the town car with his hands over her eyes, "I don't condone anything you're about to experience. This is all for you. Keep your eyes closed," he instructs as he moves his hands to hers, helping her out of the car and onto the sidewalk. "Alright, open them and look right across the street."

Her eyes flutter open to see a bar front with a big lit sign above that reads Hoser Hut. "Are you serious right now?!" she exclaims, taking it all in.

There's a red and white canopy leading up to the door with the bar's name repeated along with a red maple leaf the size of her torso, and another black sign hangs overhead with two hockey sticks crossed like swords. The ambience is completed with a large neon maple leaf in the front window above another neon sign advertising Labatt.

"Oh, I am deadly serious, Robin. Welcome to the Hoser Hut, America's premiere Canadian bar."

He leads her inside and it's like she's instantly stepped over 3,000 miles back into her hometown. The bar is decorated in all things Canadian: hockey paraphernalia, snowshoes on the wall, mounted deer and moose heads – there's even a Vancouver Canucks jersey. Antlers and little Canadian flags are everywhere, and the far wall is adorned with pictures of various Canadian celebrities with landscapes of the Canadian wilderness peppered in. There's a large painting of the queen in a place of honor behind the bar and, a little further beyond, a pair of skates hang at the ready right beside the flat screen above the bar that's broadcasting hockey. Finally, directly adjacent to them, the same crossed hockey sticks as outside are hung on the wall as well as a proudly unfurled Canadian flag right above the karaoke stage where a guy is currently singing a Crash Test Dummies song.

"Oh my god, Barney, I love it!" Robin gushes elatedly. "How did you find this place?"

Barney shrugs as if he didn't just go out of his way for her. "A friend told me about it."

"You have another friend from Canada?"

"No, Minnesota. They have their own bar too. I asked him to look into it and he found this one for me."

Robin smiles affectionately. "You mean for me," she softly corrects.

Barney only grins, brushing off her praise like it's no big thing. "Feels like home, right?"

"There's one way to find out." Biting her lip with excitement, she purposefully bumps into the man directly in front of her.

"Well, sorry there," he says in a thick Canadian accent. "Didn't see ya. Are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine."

"Okay, sorry aboot that." He reaches down onto the table and grabs a bakery box, opening it for her. "Have a donut on the hoose."

"Thanks," Robin smiles, taking one.

"Wait a second," Barney scowls. "You bumped into him and he apologized – and gave you a donut 'on the hoose'?" he mimics.

"Not just any donut, a Timmy's donut," she basks, taking a bite. "Oh, it's just like home!"

He shakes his head, half in wonder, half in disgust. "I'm glad you're happy, Scherbatsky, but I don't get it. There is nothing special about Canada. You want to impersonate a Canadian? Just turn of the lights and get all scared!"

"What?" Robin laughs. "You think Canadians are afraid of the dark?"

"Uh, I don't just think. Everyone knows that. It's like, hey, how many Canadians does it take to change a lightbulb? 'What?'" he impersonates again in an exaggerated accent. "'Oh no, the lightbulb's out?! I'm scared!"

"Barney, that is insane."

"Psh, no, it's not. I heard it from a friend who has firsthand knowledge," he brags.

She shoots him a suspicious look. "The same friend who found you this place?"

"Yeah, so what?"

"Stupid Minnesotans and their Canadian prejudices," she mutters.

"Forget the shortcomings of your people, Robin. Let's have some fun! Tonight, for you, I'll even agree to drink Canadian beer."

Laughing, Robin takes his hand and pulls him toward the bar.

The hours go by and he actually does enjoy himself. Robin even gets him to do Canadian karaoke with her. And all the while she's so happy that Barney mentally high-fives himself for having the idea.

When it's nearing in on closing time and the two of them get up to leave, Barney accidentally brushes against the wall and knocks the light switch down, sending the newly darkened bar into a panic of screams and cries for help.

"Sorry!" he shouts to be heard above the commotion as he switches the lights back on. "It's gonna be fine! Sorry."

Looking to Robin, Barney gives her a cocky grin.

"Well, no one likes the dark."