"I have two questions for you Ms. Morris. First of all; if all the FBI people are called Special Agent, can any of them them be really special. Two; Since Special Agents never go anywhere alone, not even to the bathroom, where is the rest of your pack?" I asked."Come on in guys, we have been busted," she said into her sleeve."You might as well drag up a booth and have dinner," I said."Sure, why not but we do need to talk." She said."Not without my lawyer, we don't." I smiled pretty."You seem to know a lot about the legal system, so you should know that once you invoke your right to counsel, nothing you say to me without her present is admissible in court. We just want to know who, where, and what to look at." she said."And I want another glass of iced tea. So either go get me one, or sit down and have dinner with us. The waitress will not come back, until you do." I was still forcing the smile. I was pretty sure that the best thing to do with the FBI was to ignore them, if possible,. "Hey, quit staring."Alex couldn't speak.He couldn't look away, either.Em shook her head and slid back inside the car. It seemed like ballet.Alex had several gallons to think about what he'd seen. Oddly, he couldn't remember anything factual.When he got back in the car, he made a point not to look at her. He knew she was looking at him, but her arms were crossed, so it probably wasn't good.Once they were back on the freeway, she spoke. "So what kind of car is this?"Alex felt such release at the broken tension that he blurted out, "1995 Toyota Supra Turbo." Too much information, geek... "So it's fast."Alex shrugged. "I guess." He'd geeked out enough already; he was going to shut up now.But Em wasn't done with him. "So, Alex, what do you do?" Her tone was clipped, almost confrontational. Like this wasn't a conversation so much as an interview."I'm a writer." That was always his first answer."No, really," Em said."Really." What do you write? The little sayings on Taco Bell sauce.
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