"And finally, temperatures in the greater Cincinnati area are expected to drop into the upper 30s tonight, with more wind and rain in the early morning hours. That's all for this Thursday. For Les Nessman, this is Bailey Quarters saying good night, and may the good news be yours."

She hits the switch for the exit clip, and "Cincinnati's window to the world..." booms from the speakers before she manages to turn it down to a tolerable level.

There's a tapping on the window behind her, and then Venus comes in, a stack of records in one arm. He waves at her with his free hand, then gives the console a bemused look as the news-segment-ending trumpets fade into a Porker's Paradise ad. "Man, I can never quite figure out what Les was thinking with that."

"Delusions of Cronkite, I guess." She relinquishes the chair to Venus, who starts shuffling through the records. "You know, I think I'll sneak into the recording booth sometime and make my own grandiose intro and exit for my spots. Why should Les get to have all the fun?"

"Indubitably. Hey, you got a minute?"

"Sure." Whatever this is, she hopes it doesn't take too long. She's still trying to catch up on the lost sleep from last week.

Venus swivels the chair around, and his expression is quizzical enough that she asks: "What is it? You've got that look on your face."

"What look?"

"The one that means it's not good?"

Venus sighs. "Look, Bailey, there's no easy way to say what I've gotta say, so I'm just gonna go ahead and say it, okay?"

"Say away." She sits down on the stool - clearly this might take a little while.

"You know I was a teacher, right?"

"Yeah?"

"And my teaching license is actually still good for another couple years. And when you have a teaching license, there are - certain things - that if you know they happened to a kid, even if - oh, hell, you're the one with the journalism degree, you know what a mandated reporter is, right?"

"Yeah, why - oh."

Venus ducks his head a little. "I talked to a friend of mine? She's a paralegal. She's checking into whether I'm legally obligated to report what I know about your cousin to the cops where he's living now. If I am - they wouldn't be able to file charges, what happened with you was too long ago, and he didn't actually do anything to Bunny - thank God - so they'd just make a record of it."

She just nods, because she's not sure what to say. She'd never thought about this.

"And the thing is, with his history, if he's still trying to be alone with kids, I think that might be a concern, y'know?"

"I know." She's been trying not to think about that for the past few days.

"So - " Venus pauses to turn the volume up just long enough to check the progress of the ads. "If I do have to report? I could leave your name out of it, but - would you want to be involved? They might take it more seriously if they heard from you as part of it."

She finds herself staring down at her hands, twisting nervously in her lap. "I - it might be a good idea to say something, regardless?" She pauses for a deep breath, and thinks: declarative, not interrogative. "I mean, I can give you the info you'd need to contact the right people."

"That's what I've been thinking." Venus starts setting up records on the turntables.

"Talking to them myself...look, let me think about it, and I'll get back to you." She's not sure she could actually talk to some stranger about any details, and that might look worse, but -

"Sure. My friend's probably not gonna know anything concrete till Monday, anyway. 'Scuse me a sec." He takes the mike, voice gone extra-smooth and smiling: "Greetings, children of Cincinnati. The night is still, the leaves and the temperatures are falling, and Venus...is rising. Venus Flytrap here, bringing you all the cool tunes for a cool Thursday evening. Starting you off with a little advice from an underappreciated Zen master: sometimes, you gotta get yourself lively. Bob Marley, here on WKRP."

He fires up the left turntable, and a few seconds of "Lively Up Yourself" escape before he turns the sound down. "Okay, that's set. Look, I just wanted to say - with what happened, and...your dad clearly being no help - well, if you ever need to talk to someone, you know my number."

"Thanks." Now she's smiling, which feels a little weird because she hasn't done it much since Monday, so this has to be a good sign, right?

"Beautiful punch you laid on that jerk, by the way."

"I owe you thanks for that, too."

Venus smiles. "I like to keep myself useful. Oh, I ran into Johnny on the way in - he was looking for you. I think he went in the bullpen."

"It's after six. What's he doing here?"

"Sometimes I doubt even he knows."

"True. Have a good night, Venus."

"Likewise." He gives her a little salute, and she gives him a friendly tap on the shoulder before slipping out.

The bullpen is quiet, except for the faint hum of traffic on the street far below. Johnny's asleep at the spare desk, huddled in his coat, head buried in folded arms. She nudges his shoulder, and he sits up suddenly, with a startled squawk.

"Hello to you too," she says.

"Huh? Oh, Bailey. I was lookin' for you." His voice is blurred with fatigue.

"So I heard."

"Yeah. Um - " He takes his sunglasses off and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes for a moment. "Are you going straight home from here?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Could you drop me off at my place on the way? The last time I got on a bus when I was this tired, I fell asleep and ended up over in Covington."

"Sure. I've got a press release to finish typing up first. Had to stop to do the news spot." She sits back down at Les's desk and starts tapping away.

"Thanks. I tried to find you at lunch? But Les said you were out with Jennifer." Johnny tips the chair back and wedges his knees against the edge of the desk.

"She said she wanted to take me for a 'Punch-The-Jerk Appreciation Lunch.' I mean, Andy told her a little about what happened, and then Herb said a few things later. Well, more yelled than said - "

"Yeah, I think he would've dismembered Wonder Boy without benefit of a sharp object."

She sighs. "So. She knows everything now. She said she wished she'd been there to punch Carl too. And that she would've paid good money to see us pull the same pretend-to-be-together scam on my dad that you two pulled on T.J." Of course, Jennifer had also said that kissing Johnny had been like kissing an upholstery brush because of the mustache, but he probably doesn't need to know that part.

"Too bad. We could've picked up some extra cash."

"What are you doing here this late? Didn't you just have the morning today?"

"Pre-recording some stuff for over Thanksgiving weekend."

"I thought you were here over Thanksgiving."

"So did I, but - Laurie called last night and invited me out there for a few days. Said about all she could offer was some turkey sandwiches and watching that Charlie Brown special on TV, but if I wanted to hang out - so, obviously."

"Of course. How's she doing?"

"Better. She got a steady job, sort of. You know what I got to be thankful for this year? She got rid of that boyfriend. Talk about losing a hundred and eighty pounds of dead weight. I was afraid she'd marry him and have to spend the next couple years digging out of it. Anyway, I won't be able to get coverage for everything with everyone going out of town, so I did some Doctor in a Can."

"You could call Moss for some of it. I doubt he's going home, considering his situation."

Johnny nods slowly. "True. Can you imagine a Steiger family gathering? Extra-down-home New England? Like that painting of the old couple with the pitchfork."

"Yeah, somehow I don't think 'clammy' is an adjective you ever want applied to Thanksgiving dinner."

"I bet they'd eat, I dunno, calamari or something."

"Well, eel was one of the dishes at the original Thanksgiving, so maybe that." She finishes typing and rolls the paper out.

"I'll have to call him, if he's got phone service up yet in whatever...submerged cave or what-have-you he's living in."

She goes to the coat rack for her overcoat. "Well, I'll be here that weekend, so if you need someone to run tapes - "

"You're not going home?"

Damn, why does he have to ask? She spots his knit hat on top of the rack and tosses it to him. "After what happened...I won't be welcome with my dad's family."

Johnny pulls the hat down over his ears and stares at her. "That's...really shitty."

"It is." She checks her pockets - keys, wallet, got it. "I could go see my mom's family, but it hasn't been the same since she died. And I don't really want to be around people who are getting drunk and bringing up grudges from fifteen years ago. You know my Aunt Deedee still hasn't forgiven me for breaking her sewing machine when I was nine?"

"Understood."

"So I told Les I'd cover for him Thursday and Friday, that way he can go see his mom. And I don't mind coming in on the other two days."

"I'd appreciate it." Johnny gets up - slowly - and follows her to the door.

The hallway is dim except for the little pool of light from the DJ booth. Venus is swaying along with whatever's playing, lip-syncing the words. He waves at them as they pass.

She stops to leave the press release on Andy's desk, then peeks into the other rooms - recording booth, storeroom, record room - to be sure the lights are off. "I was on the phone with the Enigmatic Bagels this afternoon. Like, the actual band? They seem nice enough, even if they can't sing."

"Good. Don't know about you, but I'd rather not have to babysit any more - musical guests - while they get bombed and trash hotel rooms."

"Seconded." Everything's shut down for the night in the lobby.

"The concert itself is enough to deal with. You know I'll end up emceeing it, too."

"How do you figure that?"

"Well, Venus keeps ducking the question, can't blame him. Rex doesn't know anything about that kind of music, Dean has zero experience, and let's face it, Moss has the personality of a wet towel."

"You should ask for a bonus, then."

"Oh, I will. I mean, I like to think I at least have the personality of a dry towel."

They go out the main office door. The hallway leading to the elevator is dim, except for the light right over them, still flickering irritably like a child's intermittent whine.

"I see they still haven't fixed that," she mutters.

"Oh, they'll get to it." Johnny slouches against the wall, hands in his coat pockets. "The same time they get to the furnace, roughly around February."

She rattles the door to be sure it locked behind them. "Johnny? I...never thanked you for all your help this past week."

"Hey. I do what I can." He gives her a tired smile and a sheepish little shrug, and is it disconcerting when he does that, but in a good way and they're still looking at each other and -

If someone had asked what she had in mind for tonight, her answer would have included "going home, eating the leftover pasta salad in the fridge, maybe watching Taxi." It wouldn't have included "kissing Johnny Caravella under this stupid flickering light," but as far as Unexpected Events of The Last Couple Weeks go, it's sure terrific having a nice one for a change.

They pull apart, and he's staring at her with this goofy little grin and she can tell she's blushing horribly, say something, Quarters, say anything -

"That wasn't like an upholstery brush at all," she blurts.

"Huh?"

"Something Jennifer - " She shakes her head a little. "Never mind."

"If you say so." His voice is just a little wobbly.

She checks the door one last time, then turns back to him. "Come on. Let's get out of here."