Chris was bored.

Despite what people assumed from watching his public persona, Chris wasn't often bored. He had a lot to keep him busy, these days. But right now, he was locked in a hotel room with Lance, with no TV, no stereo, and no Gameboy.

There were, however, Venetian blinds.

"Chris Kirkpatrick, private eye, sat alone in his office. Well, not quite alone. There was his Girl Friday. His secretary. James. With whom he shared a lot of unresolved sexual tension, but whom he never noticed, save when James lit his cigars for him, because he preferred the rich dames in trouble, like that one from last week who'd tried to kill him. Timberlake. Except for the times when James shoved him on the bed and fucked him like there was no tomorrow. He never remembered Timberlake then," Chris thought to himself.

"You're not getting any work done staring out the window," Lance said. "Dani's gonna kill you."

"And then," Chris thought, "there was Dani. His ex-wife, Dani. Dani, who needed alimony payments every week. Dani who was the reason he stayed in this dingy office, slaving away on case after case, putting his life in constant danger. He rubbed his hand over an old silver picture frame, smiling fondly at her sepia-stained face. Well, to be fair, he was rather fond of danger."

"Chris," Lance said, "you promised you were going to check those shipping figures."

"I've been in here for three *hours,* Lance. I need to escape!"

"Actually," Lance checked his watch, "it's been twenty minutes. And you told Justin to lock you in so that you *couldn't* escape, because if you didn't approve the shipping costs today you'd be screwed royally when it came time to handle the spring line."

"Fine," Chris huffed. He sat down, flipping his laptop on. "Bring me my Rolodex."

"You don't *have* a Rolodex," Lance said patiently. "You have all the numbers programmed into your work cell."

"Well lah-di-da. Aren't we a bossy boyfriend?"

"You need to get this done, or Dani's gonna kick my ass. And when Dani's through with it, there'll be nothing left for you."

Chris got to work immediately.

"Lance?"

"Yes?"

"This is boring."

"That's what you get for founding a company," Lance said. "You don't see me complaining, do you?"

"Actually, I believe you spent half of last night beating your laptop to death with a copy of Gideon's bible."

"That," Lance said, mustering his dignity about him, "was my patriotic duty."

Chris raised an eyebrow.

"I was writing to Meredith about doing some USO work, and it froze on me. 12 times."

Chris laughed. "I see. So when you called it an evil tool of the Taliban, you were serious."

"Absolutely."

"It was good of you to destroy it."

"I'm a patriotic guy," Lance said.

"You are." Chris nodded wisely. "You only eat the red, white, and blue M&Ms."

"Exac--they don't make white."

"They do at FAO Schwartz. They make everything there."

"We are not going to FAO Schwartz."

"Even if I get my shipping costs sorted out?" Chris started to bounce on the bed, looking up at Lance with wide brown eyes. "Even if I do all the work I promised Dani?"

"By the time you get done, it'll be dinner time. And if I buy you M&Ms after dinner, you're gonna keep me up all night."

Chris smiled slowly. "I've never heard you complain about *that* before," he said.

Lance swallowed. "Do your work."

"Yes," Chris thought, as he reached for his cellphone, "it was Dani for whom he put himself in danger every night. But it was James for whom he lived."