It was the last place on earth she wanted to be, but at least it was familiar. It was after six, and the café was sure to be somewhat empty, so she could find a table (preferably in a deep, dark corner) and drown her anger in a latté; one with about a thousand calories. Why should she; a woman who had been stood up twice in the same night, care about her figure anyway?

Hot, angry tears rose to the surface. Damn it. She wasn't about to cry over something so incredibly stupid. She wasn't a moron, contrary to what Frasier might think. And she didn't care what he thought anyway.

She stormed up to the counter, prepared to order the most fattening drink on the menu. But at the last minute she chickened out and ordered her usual nonfat latte with skim milk.

"Here you are, Roz." Taylor said, giving Roz her signature smile. Roz was very fond of Taylor. The barista really knew her stuff and she was good; really good at pretty much anything when it came to lattes, or even advice. But at that moment, Roz wanted to smack the smile right off of Taylor's face. So it was to Taylor's credit that she said no more. It certainly wasn't Taylor's fault, but there was nothing worth smiling about; not after the hell that Roz had been through. She mumbled a polite thank you and went to find a table.

As she glanced around the care, she couldn't help but notice two men, probably in their early to mid-thirties, sitting at a table by the window. Her plans to find a secluded table now ditched, Roz was happy to see a free table in the middle of the café; the table where she often sat with Frasier, Martin, Niles or Daphne. And instead of feeling awkward, it felt comfortable in a way.

The two men adjacent to her were drop-dead gorgeous, both in business suits. One had dark hair and the other light brown. Both of them were smiling at her and when she looked closer she blushed. They were flirting with her; there was no doubt about that. She could feel her heart race as she sat down on the wooden chair and smiled back, trying to flirt with them as well. No sense in letting a good black dress and a babysitter go to waste. If they could flirt with her, she could flirt with them.

She smiled and waved, subconsciously picking up the container of sugar from her table to pour some into her drink. But as soon as she lifted it over her cup, the metal top of the sugar container came off, sending a snowfall of sugar into her drink. Some moron had loosened it. What was this, high school? And to her horror, she saw the men laughing at her. Damn it, she should have known. They may have been cute, but they were nothing but jackass pranksters. She'd been humiliated yet again.

Being stood up twice in the same night was bad, but this… Now she couldn't even enjoy her latte. She could barely make eye contact with them, nor did she want to, and so she tried to concentrate on her drink; pretend that absolutely nothing had happened. But it was damned impossible. She was clinching her fist under the table, fully aware of the hot tears forming behind her eyes when she heard;

"Whoa! I must still be asleep because there is no way I'm seeing what I'm seeing! I must be dreaming!"

The annoying voice made her cringe. Just when she thought that the night couldn't get any worse, it had.

"Bulldog, spare me the pickup line. What in the hell are you doing here?"

He feigned innocence. "Doing what any good citizen would do, stopping in for a-."

"BULL!" She yelled, causing every head in the café to turn.

The obnoxious host of the Gonzo Sports Show on KACL was so completely unfazed by her actions and he began to laugh. "That's a good one, Roz!"

"Yeah, well it's not funny!" She shot back.

"Are you sure, Roz? Because I thought-."

"Just get out, Bulldog!" She yelled. "Get out and leave me alone, all right? I've already been humiliated more than enough for this evening and-." She tried to control her emotions about the tears behind her eyes were dangerously close to spilling onto her cheeks. And then she made the biggest mistake imaginable. She made eye contact with the moronic no longer good-looking guys at the adjacent table; both of whom were still pointing, whispering and laughing.

And that was the last straw.