In any event, the Dolt blusters about The Rules, so Chris wisely smirks, "Yeah, you're one to talk." Heh. Nate politely excuses himself so father and son might continue this prissy catfight in private. "I was just having a little fun," Chris protests once his little blond boyfriend roams out of earshot. "It's not like I have anything pressing to do." "Then why, exactly, did you come back from the future?" demands the Dolt. Chris can't remember. Just then, a faint, infantile whine echoes through the bar. Of course, Chris can't hear it. The Dolt threatens to confront Chris regarding his supposed transgressions at a later time, and orbs out. Nate tiptoes back in all, "Let's do it again!" Chris's gaze drops below waist level, and he wiggles his eyebrows.

By the way, don't bother with the emails. I know the character's name is "Natalie," and I know Natalie's played by a girl. Far more important? I don't care. Chris has sex with men. Got it? Good. Also, our marital arrangements are none of your damn business, so you can shut right up about that, too.

The Bay Mirror. Phoebe edges through one of the swinging glass doors and glances around in surprise. By the way, I didn't notice this the first time through, but there's a glazier fussing with the other door. Hee. In any event, all of Phoebe's colleagues are battered to one degree or another. Black eyes. Neck braces. Broken noses. Sprained ankles. You get the picture. Some twit named Frank spots the Feebs and hobbles over to congratulate her. "I don't care what she says," he insists. "I always wanted to do what you did, and man, it was good to see you do it." As I already know what he's talking about, I find this speech more than just a teensy bit inappropriate, and believe that not only should this twit be fired, but he should also have his woman-beating ass thrown in jail. Elise Rothman, Girl Editor With A Shiner glares at the Feebs from across the room, then curtly orders Phoebe into her office.