10:56 PM >> L&C, LLC - My left ankle gives me much pain

Hey, Clark, you off the phone yet over there?

Yeah. What's up, buddy?

Lewis wheels back to the entrance of his cube. Looks both ways making sure the situation's clear. Then he scoots into Clark's adjoining cube.

Motioning to Clark's computer - Check your email. I just got a message from the big cheese. He wants to see us. Did you get it?

Yeah. What is this -- 'Lewis, Kevin, my office 10:30'? God, I wish he wouldn't do that. Ahhh!

What the hell, man? What'd you do?

Me?, Clark says throwing up his hands in confusion.

Oh, crap. This is about that ream of paper we snuck out last week. Crap!

Lewis is sweating now. He wheels back and checks down the hall for any peepers. Clark stands and makes sure no one is cocking their snoopy head over spying.

Attempting to calm Lewis, Clark whispers, No, dude. Chill out, don't worry. If it was that he would have called us out in the Monday morning meeting. Made an example of us. Whatever it is though, it sounds secret-like. He says 'brings notepads.'

And promptly at 10:30 Clark and Lewis give some secretively spaced out taps lightly on Mr. TJ bossman's closed door. They're both armed with yellow pads, pens neatly clipped to the sides.

From inside, Yeah, guys. Come on in. Close the door behind you.

Clark and Lewis take seats in front of TJ's desk. TJ watches as the door shuts. Waiting to begin. Clark and Lewis crook their heads following his gaze and watch as well. In slow slow motion the door closes, the latch clicks, and TJ turns to Clark and Lewis, Well, then, boy's.

Clark and Lewis gulp. Turning to face TJ, Lewis panics inside. OH, my God, oh, my God. What? What? What did we do?

How are things, guys?

Things? What the hell? Things. What things? What is he talking about? Clark glances to Lewis. Clark is panicking now. What? What is he talking about? Things? What do we say? Lewis what is he saying? Clark turns slowly back leaving the response up to Lewis.

Well, sir, my left ankle gives me much pain these days, Lewis says. I've been playing a lot of pick-up games at the gym...

Lewis. I don't care about your inflamed foot. How are things out there in the bull pen?

The interruption, though harsh, was much appreciated. A good deal of confusion was cleared.

Oh, Clark said laughing, things are...

KEVIN! Enough with the laughing. This is no joke.

Clark and Lewis look nervously to each other.

You, boys get your pads ready. Take some notes. There's something going on around here.

They both begin scribbling some notes.

There's a spy lurking and I need you two to do some cubeland reconnaissance. Do you get me?

Lewis looks up from his notes, taking charge.

Yes, sir. Absolutely. WE understand. Continue on with the briefing, sir.

Christ, Lewis. I just did. I need you boys to keep and ear open. Take notes. Anything you hear in the breakroom, at the Blimpie or wherever you guys eat lunch, in the halls. Whatever you hear I need to know about it. Anything out of the norm I want to know about.

Yes, sir, Clark says putting down his pad for a second and waving a salute to TJ.

GOD DAMMIT, Kevin. Enough with the Gomer Pyle goofball military act. This is an office. Just keep me informed.

Sir, it's Clark, not...

Finished with them TJ picks up his receiver and waves them both away.

Standing up at attention first, and then awkwardly trying to fall into something a little more office casual, Lewis says, You can count on us. Sir, we're your eyes, your ears...

This time TJ's interruption is a little offensive, Just go. And close the door on your way out.

Clark and Lewis stand for a moment outside the bossman's closed door and compare notes. They nod to each other. A secret office casual nod. A nod with a sense of duty. Then they bump two subtle knuckles, conceal their notepads, and march off. Off into the war zone.