Lance had started his job at the FBI before he knew it. Beginning a new job was always taxing—even finding his new office was a challenge. If Lance thought his brain was maximally stuffed full of his parents' odd and ends before he began working, he was now literally stretched to his limits. And this was a man who gotten two Ph.D.s in under five years.

He had been assigned to a number of agents starting off but was most interested in two partners: Dr. Temperance Brennan and Agent Seeley Booth. What intrigued him about the duo was that the woman was a famous forensics anthropologist and scientist, while Booth had a military and working class background. They appeared to be complete opposites, and he wondered how they functioned as a team. Obviously, not so well if they had been assigned to him. Agent Booth had recently arrested Dr. Brennan's father as a murder suspect. The FBI was thinking of dissolving their partnership because of the potential stress. Lance was supposed to meet with them as soon as possible, but they hadn't been returning his calls.

It was a Saturday, but Lance had been so overwhelmed in his first week that he had come in on the weekend to orient his brain and begin a few criminal profiles. He was also running from his empty life. His head was swimming, his heart aching, and he thought, I can't stay at work forever. What am I going to do with myself?

He had just ended an intense relationship in New York and didn't feel like trolling around for a date, not that he dated women casually anyway. But the thought of sitting home alone in his new apartment, which he had barely begun unpacking, was too pathetic to contemplate. He looked up Temple Micah on the internet. Now was as good a time as any to play the Jewish card. Lance was adopted, but he was fairly certain that his biological mother was actually Jewish. He was claiming this now, whether he believed in God or not. Maybe he'd get a really delicious casserole out of it.

At temple, Lance sat in the back. There was a woman in front of him with a swath of chestnut curls semi-blocking his view, but he didn't mind. He wasn't listening, he was mourning—stewing in pain and grief. His eyes were watery. After the service, the petite woman with the large hair turned around and saw him sitting there. She had extremely round, kind eyes and noticed that Lance was upset.

She stuck out her hand a little abruptly, which made Lance jump. "Hello. I'm April," she said, her voice quavering slightly. Lance presumed she was a bit on the diffident side of social interactions.

"Lance Sweets."

She looked a little nervous that she hadn't given her last name, but forged ahead.

"You new here? I haven't seen you around. I notice when…when younger men come to temple." She clapped her hands up to her cheeks in extreme embarrassment. "I didn't mean that how it sounded!"

Lance laughed, "It's ok." He looked around. There were a lot of old men present, and he could see why April was relieved to locate someone closer to her age. "I can see that I'm a rare commodity."

April asked, narrowing her eyes a bit, "Are you a college student?" There was worry in her tone.

"No! No," Lance tried to laugh, but he hated being perceived as young. There was no giving back his rosy cheeks, plump lips, and soft eyes. He was just a youthful-looking fellow. "I'm a psychologist and profiler at the FBI. I just moved back to the DC area. I grew up here, but well, now I'm back!" Lance decided that April was pretty—not hot exactly—but she had a lovely spirit, a gentleness about her. It reminded him a bit of his mother, though his mom had not been so socially on edge. He found April's nervousness charming really.

"Oh! Well that sounds very interesting! I work with tropical fish, myself." April looked relieved to discover that Lance was around her age and therefore, a potential suitor. If Lance was correct, April was flirting with him.

He gulped. "Oh, that's totally awesome." He cursed himself for using the childish turn of phrase. "Hey, what are you doing right now?"

April responded energetically, "Well, I was just going home…nothing. No, I'm not really doing anything."

"Would you like to have coffee with me?" Lance asked boldly. He was insecure about many things, but when it came to asking out women, Lance had unmistakable guts. He did hate the getting rejected part, though, so he waited on edge.

"Yes! I would like that very much." April flashed small, white teeth.

"Ok, um Firehooks?"

"Firehooks it is," April agreed cheerfully.

Lance thought the young woman seemed so sunny, so buoyant. He hoped he wouldn't poison her with his current misery. He felt like his soul was made out of lead. And he wasn't really that Jewish—he had just been hoping for a casserole. Hopefully, she wouldn't hold that against him. He tripped a little crossing over to walk along side of her. Damn, this part was always so awkward.