**********
Casey looked up from the screen as Dan ended a phone conversation with a woman whose name might possibly have something to do with the plant kingdom. "So...Daisy?" Casey asked.
"Poppy."
"I knew it was a flower."
"You were close."
"I knew it was flora of some variety."
"You were right there at the edge of the prairie, my friend."
"I knew it wasn't fauna."
Dan arched his eyebrow. "Fauna?"
Casey half-shrugged. "Fawn. Gazelle--"
"That would probably be Giselle."
"--Thumper."
Dan laughed and went back to his notes.
"So you got her number." Of late, Casey found himself increasingly unsupportive of Dan's increasingly frequent conquests. Not that he would ever tell Danny this, and not that he was sure why it should be that way, but there it was, staring at him like...like a thing that was.
"I had her number."
"Ah."
"Hence the part where I called her."
"Right." He tapped the keyboard. The screen informed him "kjasfkjewoaij." Casey meditated on this word of wisdom for a moment, then deleted it. "And you're going out with her after the show tonight?"
"Yup." Dan looked at Casey looking at him. "Wanna come with us?"
"Do I--" He laughed incredulously. "Do I want to come with you on your date with Thumper?"
"Poppy." His eyes widened. "Did you say `date'?"
"You're going out with this woman."
"We are having drinks after the show. Yes."
"One you; one beautiful woman -- I assume she's beautiful?"
"Fall-down-on-your-knees-and-weep gorgeous, my friend."
"How is this not a date?"
"Because her girlfriend will also be joining us."
Casey tipped back in his chair. "I can see how that might make it somewhat less date-like."
Dan smiled. "Poppy works at that gym I went to for a while last year."
"Your rebellious period."
Dan dropped his eyes to the desk. "My rejection of the status quo."
"You were sticking it to The Man."
"I was what?" He dropped his pencil.
"Sticking it to The Man. You know -- The Man. The...establishment."
He relaxed. "I joined a different gym. For a month. There were no peasants with pitchforks."
"It seemed daring to me. I thought, `That Danny. Always trying new things. Always...daring.'"
Dan picked up his pencil again. "Write your script."
"My computer says `oawierlkdjnfalsk.'"
"I'm happy for you, Casey."
**********
"So you never said if you wanted to come out with us tonight."
"With you and Poppy." Casey grinned. "Got her name right that time."
"If I had a gold star, Casey, I would stick it on your forehead. Right here, right now, in front of all these people, I would stick a gold star on your forehead."
"But not a Goldstar?"
He grinned. "I would if I could ever find one." The quest for an obscure and only marginally drinkable Israeli beer held a deep significance that the two men could never explain to their friends -- the way the genius of the Three Stooges could never truly be communicated to most women. "Are you coming or not?"
"I'd love to. Unless -- what's the girlfriend's name?"
"What difference could that possibly make?"
"If she has a cool, exotic name, she is probably, you know, cool and exotic. I get nervous around cool exotic lesbians."
"Her name is Helen."
Casey considered the ceiling. "I can probably handle a Helen."
"I think that shows real growth on your part, Casey. I'm proud of you." Dan started to walk away. "Oh -- we're going to the Kensington. Is that going to be a problem for you?"
Casey frowned. "Why would it be a problem for me?"
"It's not?"
"It's fine."
"Great. See you in wardrobe." Dan headed down the hall, whistling off-key.
"Kim!" Casey grabbed her as she walked past. "You ever heard of a bar called the Kensington?"
**********
The problem with the Kensington -- the problem Danny feared Casey would have with it -- was that it was a gay bar. It was packed to the rafters with cool exotic lesbians with cool exotic names, and men who had no compunction whatsoever about groping each other enthusiastically -- and not just in dark corners, but in well-lit corners and other areas that were not so much corners.
Poppy and Helen were laid-back individuals -- so laid-back they were nearly comatose. Dan didn't remember Poppy being this boring, but he chalked this up to previously having conversed with her exclusively in the steroid- and endorphin-fueled atmosphere of the gym, which apparently did not cling to her during her off-hours. The problem seemed to be that Poppy had no basis for conversation with Dan other than things that had happened while he was a member of her gym, and since he had belonged for exactly one month, this meant that the conversation was bound to get very boring very fast -- and even faster for Helen and Casey.
So she told a couple of mildly amusing stories about Danny getting hit in the head with things (which always brought a smile to Casey's face); a couple of borderline tacky tales about the misfortunes of other members of the gym; one really, truly, laugh-out-loud hilarious anecdote about a former manager (which later turned out to be apocryphal); and one saga of her aunt's cat that was so boring Casey felt real tears cascade into his beer. Helen, who was decidedly neither cool nor exotic -- nor particularly nice, when you got right down to it -- and who might have worked in publishing, or marketing, or some other vague industry that ended with "ing," hadn't said more than a dozen words the entire time -- including "Nice to meet you," which Casey hadn't believed anyway.
And then this happened:
Poppy, snorting back a laugh at the end of the story of her aunt's cat, said, "Dan, this is gonna sound so crazy--" (Oh, and, you don't, after robbing us of fifteen minutes of our lives to talk about Snookers the teetotaling tabby? Casey thought) "--but that story always reminds me of the time that you and Bob--"
And Dan sat up very fast, swallowed a mouthful of beer in a manner that must have hurt, and made a bizarre chopping motion with his hand. "Don't -- uh -- don't tell that story, Poppy, please?"
Poppy gave Dan a long, inscrutable look. Really -- Casey tried; it was not capable of being scruted. "No Bob stories, huh?"
"If you don't mind."
She shrugged and sipped her little pink drink. "No problem."
Casey looked between Dan and Poppy. "Who's Bob?"
Poppy threw Casey an even less scrutable look. Dan stared at a point between the two women's shoulders. "Just a...a guy I know from the gym." Casey almost thought Poppy snorted, but he was momentarily distracted by wondering if that guy was going to be able to get his hand back after sticking it so far down that other guy's pants.
Helen and Poppy were morning people, which meant that they were bound not to last long with Dan and Casey. After a measly two rounds, Helen yawned, and at that not-so-secret sign, Poppy began casting those apologetic glances toward the door that mean you're thinking of leaving soon. About five minutes later, she turned that apologetic glance on Dan.
"You headed out?" Dan asked.
"Yeah," she said. "We both have early mornings tomorrow, and..."
Dan shook his head. "We understand," he promised her, then looked at Casey. "What about us, Case?"
Casey peered down into his glass. "I've got half a beer left."
"Me, too." He smiled at Poppy. "I guess we're gonna stick around."
She nodded. "Okay, then." She and Helen slid out of the booth, and Poppy slipped her arms around Dan's back. "Good to see you, Danny. We should get together more often."
He grinned that easy Dan grin. "We really should."
Poppy held her hand out to Casey, and her grip was soft but strong, but then she laughed and pulled him into a hug, as well, though it was awkward across the table. "It was really nice to meet you, Casey."
"You, too."
Helen's grip was hard but weak, and she did not hug Casey, and she did not say it had been nice to meet him, and he didn't say it to her, either. Then they were gone, and Casey was staring into his beer again, and Danny was staring at him. "Well?"
Casey looked up. "Well, what?"
"What did you think of them?"
He shrugged.
"Aw, c'mon, Casey," Dan said, vaguely irritated. "Other than the people on Rebecca's floor, these are the first non-CSC friends I've made in years. You've gotta have some opinion of them."
Casey smiled. He didn't know why it was so important that he like Dan's little playmates, but he decided to humor him. "I liked Poppy," he said. "Poppy was nice."
Dan frowned. "Helen you did not like so much," he guessed.
Casey shook his head. "Helen I did not like so much."
"She's better once you get to know her. Once she gets to know you. She's bad with new people. People who are new to her."
Casey frowned. "I kind of had that. But it was a very nice rhythm you had there. Would you, could you, in a box?"
"Fuck you." He rubbed his head. "But they were okay, you thought?"
"Sure."
"Good," he said decisively.
"Why is this so important to you, Danny? That I like your lesbians?"
"See, Casey, there you go with your--" He sighed. "I feel -- no, I -- you know how you have different facets of your personality, different parts of your life, and you feel like...you think you can get by all right roping one of those parts off, but then it turns out...you know something's missing, you know? You can tell there's a part of you withering away, and your life doesn't quite fit right anymore."
Casey's eyes grew wide at this disjointed tirade. "Wow."
"You know what I'm talking about?"
"Not a freakin' clue, Danny," he admitted. "But if hanging around with lesbians is going to make your life whole again, I think you absolutely should do that."
Dan smiled. "Thank you, Casey. Your approval means so much to me."
And then, as though Helen and Poppy's exit had deprived them of some sort of lesbian protective barrier, the men starting approaching. Young, fit, extremely attractive men with broad smiles and tight pants started coming up to the table and saying "hi" to Danny. They all knew him, and he knew all of them -- by name.
"Hey, Mitch!" he said to the first one, and seemed genuinely pleased to see him.
"Dan! Damn, man, it's been too long!"
Dan smiled easily. "The world moves on, my friend; the world moves on. Hey, Mitch, this is Casey. Casey, Mitch."
Mitch gave Casey the once-over and shook his hand. He chatted a bit emptily with Dan for a minute before making his apologies and slipping away. Dan didn't look as though he thought anything out of the ordinary had happened.
Casey raised an eyebrow. "So, how do you know Mitch?" He leaned on the "M" a little longer than necessary.
"From the gym," Dan said, as though that should've been perfectly obvious.
"Poppy's gym?"
He nodded, but his attention was pulled away by the arrival of the second guy, who Casey was relieved to see had gotten his hand back. "Drew?" Dan teased him. "Drew Delton -- in a bar?"
Drew grinned and clapped Dan's shoulder -- with his other hand, Casey was relieved to note. "You know, it was the strangest thing, I -- oh, man, where are my manners?" He stuck his hand out to Casey -- not the other hand, he was distressed to note. "Drew Delton."
"Where are my manners? Drew, this is Casey McCall."
"Great to meet you." Drew took his hand back and returned his gaze to Dan. "Anyway, I met this guy, and--"
Dan grinned wolfishly. "No need to say anything more, man. I know the story well."
Drew laughed and maybe looked over at Casey. "I know you do, man. Catch ya `round."
When he, too, was gone, Casey looked somewhat askance at his partner. "And that guy?"
"Gym."
"Right."
After the third guy, whose name seemed to be James, Casey didn't have to ask the question, because Dan looked at him with an apologetic smirk and said, "From the gym," but Casey had started saying it half a second after Dan anyway.
"Jesus, Danny, what kind of gym is this?"
Danny shrugged again and reddened a little, but he didn't break his gaze, and when he said, lightly, "The sweaty kind," Casey honestly couldn't tell whether or not Dan was putting him on.
"I need another beer," Casey growled. "You want one?"
"Yeah; if you don't mind."
He nodded and slid out of the booth. The crowd at the bar was thick, and Casey passed the time by trying to decide which of the other men in this place knew Danny. He was up to about ten by the time he placed his drink order. He asked for Goldstar, and the bartender gave him a look like he knew Casey was messing with him but couldn't figure out how, so Casey gave the real order and reminded himself that antagonizing bartenders was never a productive plan. He took his non-Goldstars, added two guys in black turtlenecks who looked too young to be in here to his list of men who maybe knew Dan, and headed back to his seat.
And then he had to stop, because where he thought their table should be seemed to have been taken over by two men he didn't know. One, short -- and not short the way everyone seemed short to Casey but actually short, no taller than five-eight -- very young looking -- maybe 27, 28 -- and almost frighteningly attractive, leaned his hip against the table, arms crossed, smiling predatorily. The other man, sitting in the booth...Casey took a step forward and squinted. Well, he certainly looked like Danny -- physically, anyway -- but the look on his face--
Casey stopped dead, causing someone to smash against his back, sending beer sloshing over his hands, and he muttered an apology and continued staring at Danny. Casey recognized the expression on his best friend's face all too well. It was the one stuck to his own face every time he had to deal with Lisa.
He threaded his way quickly through the crowd, barely noticing that the beer continued to trickle down the sides of the glasses and onto his hands. As he neared the table, Dan noticed him coming, and his face transformed back to the good-natured Dan-mask that meant something was seriously wrong with the world. "Excuse me," Casey said jovially, and the man gave him a disconcerting, searching, piercing look and stood aside. He slid in across from Dan and poked one of the steins across the table to him. "I spilled some," he apologized, sucking his sticky thumb.
"'Sokay," Dan mumbled, taking a too-large gulp and trying hard not to choke.
Casey looked with false brightness at the man leaning against his table. "And you are?"
The man, Casey noted with no small glee, looked ruffled by the directness of the question, and Dan jumped in, carefully avoiding eye contact with either man. "Casey, this is Bob Gilman. Bob, Casey McCall."
Casey's eyes must've been as big as soup bowls as he took a new, much more scrutinizing look at the infamous Bob. He was extremely buff -- but not steroid buff -- had thick black hair that shone faintly in the Kensington's dim light and a wide smile full of small, perfect, capped teeth. He looked, in short, exceptionally unBob-like. An inexplicable chill raced through Casey's body.
Bob didn't stay long. Casey's return seemed to have taken the fun out of the conversation for him, and he soon said his "Good to see you"s and "Nice to meet you"s and wandered away.
Casey glared at Danny, and Danny glared into the bottom of his glass, and Casey couldn't help thinking they'd done this recently. "So," Casey said finally, leaning against the seat cushion and swigging his beer, "that was Bob."
"Yup." It was more of a sigh than a word.
"Bob, Bob, Bob," Casey said in a ridiculous sing-song, liking the way the syllable popped in his mouth. "Doesn't look much like a Bob," he noted.
Dan smiled faintly. "What does a Bob look like?"
"I don't know," Casey admitted. "But not like that. Certainly not like that." He thunked his glass on the table and sat forward so fast Danny flinched. "Dan?" Dan looked at him then away, quickly. "Danny -- the thing you were talking about before, about roping off parts of your life?" Dan flexed his hand a few times. "Was...did joining that gym have something to do with that?"
Dan sighed and nodded.
"And..." Casey's voice sounded strange to his own ears. "And Bob? Was he part of that, too?"
His shoulders sagged, and his head dropped. "Case--"
"Was he?"
Dan raised his head very slowly, then dropped it very quickly. No one else would've recognized it as a nod, but it was all the answer Casey needed. His head felt fuzzy, and the room was spinning, but he took a deep breath and forced steadiness into his voice. "Dan, I am only going to say this once, so listen up."
He raised his head and maintained eye contact as best he could. "Casey--"
"No, listen. I don't know what that jackass did to you, but you told me and told me and told me again not to take that kind of shit from Lisa, and I feel honor-bound to remind you that the same goes for you." He scowled at the general direction Bob had taken off in. "There's no excuse for it."
And that was all there was to be said about that.
**********
Except that the next morning, when Casey came into the office, he sat down, considered the computer for a minute, and then, instead of turning it on, rolled his chair over so they faced each other across the small table. "So, here's my problem."
Dan's face turned slightly chalky; he looked like he hadn't slept so well last night. "I knew you would be having a problem."
"Here I am," Casey said, spreading his hands, "ostensibly your best friend--"
"'Ostensibly'?"
"Well, you see, that's my problem." Casey kicked his long legs out under the table, and Dan scrambled to pull his own feet out of the way. "You're supposed to be my best friend, and yet you had this thing -- this huge thing--"
"It's really not that big a thing, Casey," he said, trying to sound more casual than he felt.
"Not a big thing? Dan, Dan, Dan," he sighed, "it's an enormous thing. It's...it's an immeasurable thing."
Dan pulled back a smile. "Not really that big at all."
Casey peered at him suspiciously. "Are we talking about the same `thing' anymore?"
"I don't even know which `thing' you were talking about in the first place."
Casey made a small, impatient noise at the back of his throat. "My point, Danny, is that you were off...off..."
"Don't say it. For the love of everything good and decent, do not say it."
"You were off bobbing for Bob--"
"You said it." He tossed his pencil down in defeat.
"--and I didn't know about it. You didn't tell me, your ostensible best friend."
"It wasn't the kind of thing I could bring up in casual conversation."
"What are you talking about? It's the kind of thing we bring up in casual conversation all the time! It's pretty much what casual conversation is."
"Sure, when it's women. When it's a Pixley or a Rebecca or a Bobbi. Not when it's a Bob." He winced and wished he hadn't mentioned Bobbi last.
"And I, meanwhile, thinking you needed to get back in the game -- not knowing that you were already in it with a vengeance -- I was flinging women at you left and right -- women, I might add, whom I could've dated myself, thereby fulfilling Dana's stupid dating plan. But no -- because you are my friend and I was concerned about you, I flung them at you." He mimed flinging something large and vaguely woman-shaped in Dan's direction.
"You flung women at me?"
"Flung `em hard, my friend."
"You flung no women at me."
"I flung plenty of women at you. You just didn't notice because you were off with Bob and hadn't bothered to tell me."
"Name one woman you flung at me."
"I will name several." He ticked them off on his fingers. "Melanie. Leah. Chelsea from the seventh floor."
"You did not fling those women at me, Casey. You barely flicked." He made a little flicking motion.
"They were hefty tosses," Casey said.
"Gentle nudges, at best." He smiled at the comfortable, familiar patter.
But suddenly Casey sounded so serious. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Dan sighed and started to stretch out his legs under the table, then remembered that Casey's were already there. "Because I knew you would have a problem."
"And here I am, having that problem."
"Not that problem. The other problem."
"The gay problem?"
"Well, I'm not sure I like your terminology so much, but, yeah, the gay problem."
Casey shook his head once, emphatically, and pulled his feet back. "I don't have the gay problem, Danny," he said quietly.
Dan smiled. "Thank you, Casey."
"You're welcome."
"So we can get back to work now?"
"Absolutely," Casey said. Dan turned to his notes, and Casey stood and put his hand on the back of his chair to roll it back to the desk. Then, abruptly, he sat down again. "Wait just one doggoned minute!"
"And then again, not so much," Dan muttered, turning back to Casey.
"You thought I would have a gay problem?"
"It seemed almost inevitable."
"'Inevitable'?" Casey's voice squeaked and scratched slightly. "Danny, I'm your best friend."
"Ostensibly."
"Danny--"
"We're Men," Dan said. "And understand I'm talking about `Men' with a capital `M' here. We are manly sportscaster Men, and there are certain expectations that manly sportscaster Men have of each other, and this is not one of them."
"Did you forget that this manly sportscaster Man is your best friend?"
"Ostensibly."
"Stop saying that!" Casey pulled his hands through his hair.
"I didn't want -- I don't want things to change between us." Dan didn't know why this felt so much like a confession, so much like begging.
"Dan." Casey leaned forward and planted his elbows on the table, propping his chin on his hands. "Are you still you?"
Dan blinked at the question. "Of course."
"Still the same Dan you were yesterday, and the day before that, and the year before that?"
"Sure."
"You're just...Dan with men."
He smiled. "Well, technically, Dan with men and women."
This stopped Casey for a minute. "Really?" Dan nodded, and Casey grinned. "Because you are a man of many talents."
"I am, indeed."
Casey reached across the table and gently squeezed the back of Dan's neck. "I don't have a problem."
Dan rested his hand briefly on Casey's arm. "Thank you."
Casey wheeled back to the desk and turned on the computer. "I still say Bob's an asshole."
"And you still do not hear me disagreeing. In fact, I believe I may state with certainty that, of all the things you are likely to hear come out of my mouth between now and the day I die, disagreement on that point is not among them."
And that seemed like it should've been the end of it.
**********
Except that Casey kept staring at him during the four o'clock run-down. At first he thought he was imagining things, but every time he'd move, or turn to talk to Chris or Will, Casey would move, too, trying to keep Dan's face in line. Definitely staring.
"What's the deal on these green memos?" Casey asked when they were back in the office, shuffling a whole slew of them around on the desk.
Dan shut the door behind them. "Error at the printers. Tons of extra green paper. What the hell is wrong with you?"
"What?" Casey asked too innocently, not looking up.
"You were staring at me all through the run-down."
"Ah. That."
Dan crossed his arms and leaned against his desk. "Yes, that."
"I was contemplating you."
"Contemplating me."
"I was trying to see you the way a guy would."
Dan uncrossed his arms and pressed his palms against the edge of the desk. "Casey, you are a guy."
Casey turned to face him, several pieces of green paper accordioned in his hand. "No..." and he looked embarrassed, "like a guy would."
A chill swept through Dan, and he recrossed his arms. "Oh?"
Casey nodded once, seemed like he was about to say something, then seemed like he had changed his mind.
"Come to any conclusions?" Dan prompted, much to the surprise of a part of his brain that was currently screaming, "Shut up, shut up, shut up."
Jeremy leaned into the office. "Casey? Dana asked me to remind you that the Keel interview got pushed up, and that you should probably leave now if you actually want to get there in time."
"Shit!" Casey looked at the clock and grabbed his jacket. "We'll talk about it later!" he called as he pushed past Jeremy and sprinted toward the elevators.
Dan and Jeremy regarded each other across the office. "Hey," Jeremy said.
Dan tilted his chin up in that time-honored male greeting. "You know, you're really freaky when you channel Dana like that."
"I'm working on it."
"Being less freaky?"
Jeremy shook his head. "Channeling Dana."
"Won't that make you too much like Natalie for anybody's good?"
He shrugged and tapped the glass. "I'll take any edge I can get."
**********
No one knew what went wrong with the Keel interview, but Casey missed the six o'clock run-down and didn't come back until 7:45. Dan was waiting for him when he raced into the office. "So?"
Casey stopped, jacket half-unzipped, and stared at him. "So...what?"
"So, what did you decide after all that time you spent contemplating me?"
"Ah. That."
"Yes, that." This conversation seemed familiar, somehow.
"Hang on a sec." Casey threw his coat over the back of his chair and scribbled a few notes on a piece of the ubiquitous green paper, then looked over at Dan and said, "You're not my type."
"What?" Dan popped out of his chair.
Casey waved a couple of tapes at him. "Have to get these to editing."
He didn't seem to be fleeing the office, just sauntering a little more quickly than usual, but Dan was hot on his heels. "What do you mean, not your type?"
"Danny," Casey said out of the corner of his mouth, "not here."
And so he waited until they got to editing, which was otherwise empty, and shut the door behind them. "Not your type?"
Casey shrugged, unperturbed, and fiddled with knobs. "Don't get me wrong," he said, making another note on his damned green scratch-paper, "you're certainly attractive. Handsome, even. You've got that `East Coast overeducated but can kick back with a brewski and watch some drag racing' thing going on, and it works for you. But I'm going to have to say...uh-uh."
Dan's eyes popped. "You're going to have to say uh-uh? What exactly do you think you're saying `uh-uh' to, Casey? You're straight."
Casey pondered this for just an instant too long.
"Casey--" Dan growled.
"Yes. I am more or less straight."
"'More or less'?"
Casey sighed. "More."
"You don't date men."
"I have not, historically. No."
"You don't have a type!"
"Not as such, no."
"And yet, somehow, you are confident that I am not it."
"Looks that way."
Dan dropped into a chair and rubbed his face. "Oh, this is too fucked up. Just too fucked up."
"It's your hair," Casey told him.
"My hair?" Dan looked up almost in spite of himself.
Casey nodded thoughtfully. "It's too short. I like a guy with hair I can really run my hands through."
"Cut that out!" Dan jumped to his feet again and began pacing the tiny room. "You don't like a guy with hair you can run your hands through. You don't like any kind of guy at all. This...this was funny at first, but now it's -- this is who I am, Casey." He sort of gestured at his torso. "This is my life. I can understand if you've got problems with that, but don't go around making jokes at my expense." He turned and walked out of the room.
Casey sat in editing for nearly twenty seconds, staring at footage from the Keel interview, before he realized he was no longer looking at footage from the Keel interview. "This is ridiculous," he muttered.
"This is ridiculous," he said again as he burst through the door of the office, grabbed Danny's arm, spun him around, and kissed him.
They had both been moving too fast, and they came together with too much force, and for a moment the kiss was incredibly painful. But then Dan's head stopped spinning, and Casey's entire body relaxed, and neither one of them could think of anything that made more sense -- in a way that didn't make sense at all. Casey's arms snaked around behind Danny's neck, and Danny's hands slid up Casey's back, and breathing seemed rather superfluous at the moment.
Until it became somewhat crucial again, and Dan broke away because his lungs were demanding a little air. They regarded each other across a very small section of office.
"Well," Casey said finally.
"Wow," Dan returned.
"Wow, indeed," Casey said, and smiled. He reached out and rubbed the top of Dan's head. "It really is a shame about your hair."
Dan lunged for him.
"Hey, guys!"
"GAAAA!" Both men jumped, and Dan actually put his hand over his heart. "Natalie! How do you do that?"
She smiled. "I have the personality of a six-foot-tall woman."
"You do seem to radiate that sort of charisma," Casey agreed.
"And so, not also having the body of a six-foot-tall woman, all that personality gets...condensed."
"And coils up inside you, waiting to spring on the nearest unsuspecting sap," Dan guessed.
Natalie grinned and hugged her clipboard. "You got it. Most of the time it's Jeremy, but you two were handy, so--"
"We are rather handy, aren't we?" Casey asked, looking over at Danny, who tried to scowl but had to laugh, instead, at the twinkle in Casey's eyes.
"What did you need, Natalie?"
She consulted the clipboard. "Uh, Dan, Dana wants to talk to you in her office about one of tomorrow night's features, and Casey, Jeremy asked if you were coming back to editing."
Casey smacked his forehead. "The Keel interview. I'm on my way." On his way out the door, he said, "Think about your hair, Danny."
"I think I wish it were long enough to tie around your throat and strangle you."
"Now you're thinking."
**********
That night during the show, Danny allowed himself to laugh when he noticed that Casey had printed his entire script on green paper, and during the second C-break he said, "I want everyone to know that I'm thinking of growing my hair out a little."
He didn't turn to see Casey's smile, but he could feel it. "Excellent," Casey murmured.
After the show, at Anthony's, Casey proposed a toast to Bob, and Dan started laughing, and the blank looks on the faces of their co-workers made him laugh so hard he had to fall over onto Casey's shoulder. And he knew that that was okay.
END