CHAPTER

He lifted a garment and folded it carefully, laying it down in the case just so, then moving on to the next. Most were of a silky material that slid along his fingers in a rather pleasing fashion, but he couldn't imagine them as being practical. Others were sturdy, made of cotton or another material, heavier, dresses and blouses. He hesitated at the dresses, they should really be hanging, or they would wrinkle. He carried them through to his room and hung them carefully on the left side of the wardrobe, then went back for the coats, to hang them as well.

He shouldn't care, really, but it was something to do while he waited for Wolowitz. They had placed the call, and had been assured he was coming right over, after he dropped his mother off at bridge, and his mother had been heard in the background screaming about needing to stop at the butchers. He would also, no doubt, then stop to get Koothrapali, and thus would probably take three quarters of an hour to make the 2 mile journey.

The girl had taken a handful of clothing off to the bathroom, and a little packet of something he supposed must be bath salts, because the whole flat smelled slightly of lavender now, and Hofstader was sitting in his chair with a dazed look on his face and a smile.

He shook his head in disdain, imagine, being reduced to a grinning idiot merely because an attractive female was bathing in their bathroom, he thought full of superiority, before realizing that what he was now folding was generally not handled by men at all. Quickly he placed it in her case, noting that he had in fact, handled several pairs. "Why," He muttered, "Do they make womenfolk's underthings so much softer than men's? I will have to talk to my tailor. I fear I have been gravely mislead as the the fabrics available."

"You touched her underwear?" Hofstader suddenly squinted at him.

"You would have seen it if you were not in a daze. Did you know silk comes in forest green? I had no idea."

"Forest Green?" Leonard blinked again. "Really?"

The case was shut with a click and replaced by the couch, the cot folded and placed behind the couch, and the blanket folded and placed on top of it.

Still no Wolowitz. He crossed to his portable blackboard and began to study it. Might as well get some real work done while waiting.

He was dimly aware that the girl had finished in the bathroom when the scent of lavender became stronger and he heard a cup fall to the floor, classic Hofstader, a real butter fingers. The numbers were not bending to his will, and he blocked everything out, going over the problem again, checking the measurements, the formulas, the significant digits, the units. "Ah." He said suddenly, making a small correction, and suddenly the equation was true.

He stepped back, hastily copying the equation to another set of paper and sticking it in his desk, just in case the board was erased.

He slowly became aware of his surroundings again, and discovered that at some point Wolowitz and Kootrapali had indeed arrived, and were now inspecting the paper found in the case.

"Well?" He demanded. "What does it say?"

"It's in chinese." Wolowitz replied.

"Yes, I know, that's why you are here. I am not fluent in this style of the language, which I judge to be a northern dialect."

Wolowitz sighed, and glared at him. "It says, meet at the secret spot at seven pm on Saturday."

"Really?" Penny asked, impressed.

"No." Wolowitz shook his head slightly. "It says 'China grows, One nose,' and something about chicken noodle soup'."

"Chicken noodle soup?"

"Yeah I know, but that's what it says."

"I'm going to have to find a better translator."