Hetty and Granger were sparring in the gym.
'If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were a little slow today, Henrietta.' Granger said.
'Maybe. Or was I?' Hetty responded.
As she walked off, Granger couldn't help but notice a slight limp in her step.
'Hetty, you okay?'
'Yes, why?'
'Stand up, walk with your left foot.'
She stood up, and waled with her left foot.
'Ow!'
'I knew I saw a limp!'
'Goody goody for you, dear.' Hetty responded.
'Would you like to tell me how you got the limp?'
'Do I have to?'
'If you want to tell only me, and not someone like Agent Callen.'
'Sigh. Fine, sit down.'
He sat down.
'I was at a bar last night. Enjoying myself. Then these 2 rude big guys walk over to me laughing, and saying rude remarks about my size.'
'This should be good.' Granger snickered.
'I told them to please stop with the remarks or I would get nasty. Then one of them retorted, and said I didn't have the guts or the strength to fight. After hearing that, I kicked one of them in the shins.'
'Whoa.'
'Then a full fledged bar fight broke out. I rushed to get out, and I tripped over a bar stool. That's why I'm limping.'
Silence.
'You gonna say something?' Hetty asked.
'Yeah. You sure that limp isn't serious?'
'It's fine.'
'Okay. I'm a bit amazed. I thought you only got into bar fights when a mechanical bull is involved.'
'Owen!'
'Chuckle.'