Honouring the Friday night tradition of drinks at Nedlinger's, Francine Desmond and Lee Stetson slouched in a back booth, trying as hard as they could not to be seen. They'd met there as soon as Lee had dropped Mrs. King off at her car, hoping to lick their wounds in private.

"Total humiliation." Francine muttered, toying with her glass. This was not a day for a light beer. Across from her, Lee was nursing a 12-year old single malt. It was his third one. Francine was onto her third G&T.

"Didn't exactly cover ourselves in glory." Lee agreed. He still couldn't believe that two of the Agency's top operatives had been rescued by an Arlington housewife in a Trailblazer uniform. Each time he considered a single detail of the last few days, he felt as if he was watching a slow motion train wreck. "At least we'll never need to see her again. Maybe in a thousand years, we'll have forgotten this whole mess." Francine raised her glass to that thought.

What had he been thinking? What kind of cosmic joke was it that he'd chosen her to give the package to? She'd been wearing a nightgown for crying out loud! And a trench coat. He mustn't forget the trench coat. How was he supposed to know that she was resourceful?

Lee shook his head, feeling his lips twitch. She'd been something to see though, coming out of nowhere, telling that thug to freeze even though she had no gun. He'd never met anyone like her. She'd been willing to risk her life to save him and Francine, even after they'd both been so dismissive.

How could anyone that naïve survive in this world? Didn't she realise that there were dangerous people out there?

Lee shook his head, trying to shake away the feeling he'd had when she'd just accepted that he could help her fly a helicopter. It was the scariest thing he'd ever done, watching her fly. He'd been terrified but she'd just trusted him. He'd never trust anyone with his life; except that he sort of had.

"I'll tell you," Francine announced, "that's my last foray into domesticity." Lee raised his glass to that. The thought of Francine cooking a meal was perhaps more disturbing than the thought of Amanda King flying a whirly-bird, but not by much.

Billy and Dirk wandered over, their broad grins evidence that they'd already had a few drinks. "Well, if it isn't Mrs. King's apprentices. I hear the Arlington housewife taught you both a few things." Dirk said with that strange intonation that made him sound like he was speaking to particularly dense students. Lee and Francine exchanged suffering looks.

"Don't worry, I'm sure she'll get your butts out of trouble again soon." Billy told them. The two men laughed heartily at the expression of horror on the two field agents' faces and walked away.

"Over my dead body." Lee growled before downing his scotch.