"Who-hoa, look what the cat dragged in!" Myles crowed as Bobby ambled into the bullpen that morning. "Did you sleep on the street?"

"Very funny, mate," Bobby said with a roll of his eyes. "Just for that, I won't give you a donut." He held out the box of a dozen, opening it to show the contents but pulling it back to just out of Myles's reach from where he was sat at his desk with his foot elevated again.

"Hey," Myles protested in a feigned pitiful voice, "you would withhold vital sustenance from the injured?"

"I could, and I would, unless you apologize," Bobby replied.

"A Leland never grovels!"

Bobby arched a brow and cocked his head. "Well, then." He clapped the box shut and carried it back over to his own desk.

"You know," Lucy said, casually wandering over and grabbing a donut without waiting to be offered one, "he is right that you look a little less put together than usual."

"Which is saying something," Myles snorted.

"Not," she continued with a pointed look at Myles, "that you don't usually look good, but your casual look is usually a little more cultivated and a little less . . . ."

"Slept in your clothes?" Myles offered. This was followed quickly by an, "Ow!" as Lucy semi-playfully backhanded his arm.

"Seriously, though," Lucy said, "ignoring the comments from the peanut gallery, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," he said, "just, uh, you know, I had that benefit to go to last night and it got out pretty late." He left out that he had subsequently spent most of the night not sleeping, but instead reliving and building fantasies surrounding what had to have been one of the shortest kisses he'd ever given with any sort of romantic connotation, and yet one that had his heart pounding like a middle schooler talking to his first crush.

"Wait a minute, I've seen you after entire nights out on surveillance!" Myles argued. "You've always had this frustrating ability to still look refreshed and energized!" He pressed back into his chair as far as he could, as though the scant inches gained by doing so might protect him. "You aren't getting sick are you?"

"Nah, 'course not. Guess age must finally be starting to catch up to me."

He turned to return to his desk, and came nearly face to face with Tara. Well, as much as their height difference allowed for. They both stopped short, then both fought to recover themselves at the same time.

"Hey," Bobby managed first.

"Hi." Tara's greeting cameso quickly on the heels of his own that he wasn't sure whether she was actually responding or whether they'd spoken nearly-but-not-quite together. How apt. Wasn't this palpable awkwardness between them entirely the result of was-this-real-or-just-a-response and nearly-but-not-quite-together?

"Good morning," he added after another beat, barely registering the redundancy in his own mind.

He wished he could read the look on Tara's face. She looked . . . not unhappy. Not repulsed. Almost pleased to see him, and yet also like she had no idea how to behave when they were together. Well, that made two of them.

Before he managed to get any other words out, she fumbled the folder she was holding, dropping papers all over the floor, and then quickly bending to pick them up. Bobby bent to help her, but she was so quick (not to mention that he still had a box of donuts in one hand) that he only managed to grab a single sheet of paper which he handed to her when they'd straightened up.

This was ridiculous. He held the box in his hand out toward her in an effort to break this ridiculous ice between them. "You, uh . . . donut?"

Smooth, Bobby. Middle schoolers facing their first crushes were more eloquent than that.

"Uh, no," she said, uncomfortably but not unkindly, and headed toward her desk.

"Hey," Myles said, startling Bobby as he'd started to just watch Tara walk away. "Wasn't Tara at that benefit last night too? How come you're so tired from getting out so late and she looks fresh as a daisy?"

Bobby and Tara locked eyes, Tara looking both confused and somehow guilty, Bobby looking slightly panicked, but Lucy rescued them from having to say anything. "Makeup, genius. We spend a lot of time and effort—not to mention money—trying to look like we're not as tired as we are."

"I learned long ago," Dimitrius added, having only observed until this point, "not to question how women manage to look as fresh and beautiful as they so regularly do. We must simply appreciate them for the miracle workers they are."

"Thank you," Lucy said. Tara managed a slightly faltering smile and a nod, before turning to look through something apparently very pressing on her computer.

"Yeah," Myles argued, "but we all know Donna's had you totally whipped for years now."

"You know, I've always hated that expression. It makes it sound like a man choosing to take care of the emotional needs of the woman he loves, not just providing for her physical needs, somehow makes him weak. Or, when applied other ways, like including his wife in the partnership of decision making makes him lesser than men who try to dictate everything."

"Aww, what happened? Donna hear about you teasing Jack and Sue and give you the business end of the whip?" Myles teased. He glanced to Bobby, apparently expecting back-up in this, but Bobby wasn't paying any attention to the conversation at all.

"Actually," D said, "I chose to go home that night when you hooligans went out on the town, and realized that home with Donna was where I'd much rather be anyway."

As he was finishing saying this, Sue and Jack entered. "And speaking of the newly whipped, here they are!" Myles added with a flourish.

Jack made a face at Myles. "Well, if that's how you're going to be, maybe we'll just go home to our wedded bliss and leave you to figure this all out."

"Oooooh," Bobby teased, happy for a distraction. "Bliss, huh?"

"For him," Sue added with a wink.

"Alright, alright," Jack said, heading up to the board. "We have a lot to cover and little time in which to do it if we'll be able to give any reasonable explanation for where we both were when we supposedly work from home."

"You really think you'll need to explain that?" Lucy asked?

"You've never lived in a small town," Jack said.

"Or a close community," Sue added. "Neighbors can be very—"

"Nosy," Jack finished.

"Awww, listen to how they finish each other's sentences!" Tara teased.

"Hey, uh, Sparky," Bobby added, "am I imagining it, or are you limping? You didn't try to take out the terrorists single-footedly did you?"

"Or did you and Sue get into a domestic squabble?" Myles added.

Jack and Sue exchanged a look of long-suffering for their friends' shenanigans. "If you must know," Jack said, "we decided I'll keep the light off in my bedroom so nobody gets suspicious about two bedrooms having lights on every night."

"Good thinking," D approved. "So what happened?"

"I . . . stubbed my toe . . . and apparently broke it. We just came from the infirmary."

Everyone reacted visibly and (for those who could hear) audibly, but none more loudly than Myles. "HA! You go undercover and break your toe by stubbing it? Surely that beats even my misstep at the airport!"

"Hey!" Sue objected. "At least he didn't try to lie about it first!"

This was met with a chorus of, "Ohhhhhh!" and "She got you there!" with perhaps a little, "So sweet how she defends her hubby" mixed in there somewhere.

Sue and Jack continued to roll with the teasing, and also managed to withold how the injury had led to altered rooming arrangements as well, and eventually they got everyone's attention focused on the task at hand.

After everyone was finally paying proper attention, the agents all shared updates about what they now knew about the "Four Freshmen," as they'd dubbed the students the Vanderwylens seemed to have helped get into the country. There wasn't really a lot to update—despite a few things having been confirmed about who was contacting whom and when, the big questions of what the connections were and why still remained.

"So that means—" Bobby started.

"So the question is—" Tara started at the same time. They both stopped and looked at one another awkwardly. Bobby motioned for Tara to speak and Tara muttered, "No, you go."

"You sure?" He asked. At her nod, he said, "So, uh, that means that what we need to figure out is why all these same people are getting calls from the Prince of Terror's phone."

"And why all in the past few days," Tara added. Inwardly, she cringed, hoping nobody would hark back to her comment about Jack and Sue finishing each others sentences. Of course, nobody did—only she and Bobby were aware of the awkwardness between them, though if Lucy didn't pick up on it soon Tara would be amazed. Good grief, they could not continue like this.

But everyone else continued apparently none the wiser. "That's the question of the day," Myles said.

"Let's hope it's not the question of a lifetime," Bobby added, and they all nodded soberly at that thought.