In Walters' apartment later that night, Douglas Benson had showered at his friend's polite insistence and the ragged remnants of his old business suit had been swapped out for some fresh clothing that belonged to Walters. Of course, with Walters being so much taller than Douglas, the only thing that fit him was a sleeveless undershirt and boxer shorts.

Now, Douglas himself as sitting in a chair in the kitchen wrapped in a blanket, shivering and occasionally sneezing. Neither had any doubts that he had a cold, and at the moment Walters was spoon-feeding the sick tabby some chicken soup. The hot liquid tasted good and was the first real meal that Douglas had had in some time. He was eternally grateful to Walters, the only real friend he'd ever had at Khan Industries, or anywhere else for that matter.

Walters, after giving 'Dougie' as much of the soup as he figured his stomach could handle, set the bowl aside and sat at the table across from him. "Now, Dougie--"

"Douglas," Douglas said, and coughed. Why was it so difficult for everyone to get his name right? Even Walters, who he'd known since he first came to Khan Industries, continually slipped up and called him 'Dougie' despite his constant insistence he do otherwise. At least Mr. Khan had always just called him Benson.

"Right, right," Walters murmured, looking embarrassed. "So, uh, Douglas, look, we've got to talk. What in the world happened to you? I mean, I know Khan fired you for the whole fiasco with Louie's - and believe me, I'm no longer welcome there myself - but what happened after that? It's like you just dropped off the face of the planet."

Douglas sighed. How could he rationally explain his time in a psychiatric clinic? He decided not to mention that to his friend. "Well, I tried and I tried, but I just couldn't find a job that paid anything halfway decent. Underskilled and overeducated, they said. And too funny. Yeah." As he talked, Douglas shrugged off the blanket and began pacing back and forth through the kitchen in his borrowed boxers. "Just like everyone else, they couldn't stop laughing at me, and said if they hired me I'd be a serious distraction to the other employees. I'm starting to wonder how I even made it as far as I did at Khan Industries."

Walters raised an eyebrow as he watched his friend pacing, trying very hard not to laugh at the sight of the smaller feline in underwear far too large for him. Douglas Benson being considered such a joke he'd be a distraction? All the panther could say in sympathy was, "Gee, Dougie-- Er, Douglas, I'm sorry."

Douglas shot an annoyed look in Walters' direction at his friend's slip-up, but then sighed. "Anyway, I ended up having to sell practically everything I owned so I could buy groceries and keep up my rent payments."

This surprised Walters. "Gee, Douglas, if you needed money, why didn't you come to me? You know I never would've turned you down."

"I would have, except you and Harmon were both off on that business trip to Walla-Walla Bing-Bang at the time, remember? Khan had sent you guys as financial emissaries or something to Prince Wudolph. You left practically right after we went to Louie's."

"Oh," said Walters, "well, uh, still, I would've helped you. And the offer still stands, y'know."

Douglas stopped his pacing and turned to look at his friend. "Well, I doubt you could give me enough money to buy a new apartment, or even afford a good hotel for however long it took me to get back on my feet, if ever."

Walters stood and walked over, putting a hand on Douglas' shoulder. "Hey, listen, cowboy," he said, using a nickname Douglas had never liked but tolerated anyway because it was still better than 'Dougie,' "I know that, but who says you need a hotel? You can stay here at my place until you find your feet again. I could even try and get you a job someplace. I mean, I'm not a top-level executive at Khan Industries for nothing, huh?"

Douglas' eyes lit up and he grinned widely, almost maniacally, "That's it, Walters," he cried, and before Walters could respond, continued, "you'll help me get my job back at Khan Industries!"

"What!" Walters cried. "Are you insane? After Khan personally fired you? H-He'd fire me just for suggesting he let you come back!"

Douglas' smile vanished. Walters was right. What reason would Shere Khan have for wanting him back after all that he'd done? Despite his situation, Douglas was not filled with anger at Khan, or even at that ape Louie and his friends. Having had time to think over his actions he had come to realize that he had gotten what he deserved for his irresponsible actions. But he'd paid for his mistakes! He was determined, by hook or by crook, to get his old job back.

"Besides," continued Walters, "how would you even get into Khan's office to talk to him? No one can get past that gargoyle of a receptionist."

"Well, I've got a plan," Douglas said, "but you're gonna have to fib a little, Walters."