Swing and a Miss?
Casey noticed John's high stress level. He hid behind his sardonic humor, but she could see it in his eyes, even through those damn dark glasses, and it bothered her.
"John, want to go relieve some stress with me?" she asked.
He smiled wickedly, "Depends, what've you got in mind?"
Linking her arm through his, she said, "How about a few beers at my favorite bar?"
Munch had no idea Novak's favorite bar would be so sports oriented.
John swung futilely at a pitch and wondered, for the umpteenth time, how he'd ended up in a batting cage.
"It's OK, you're improving with every pitch."
'Oh yes,' now he remembered, 'it had something to do with his weakness for redheads'.
