It was Bodie I saw the most of. He was always scurrying up to me, handing me papers that needed copying. Usually in triplicate. Whenever he said this, it was with a smirk.

Good at smirking, is Bodie. The only ones who were never inundated with his fatal smirk were Cowley, Murphy and his own partner, Doyle, whom I never saw much of.

Cowley he respects, like his own father he doesn't know. Murphy is an accomplished man with quiet dignity; Bodie acknowledges that. AS for Doyle, the partner who wore his clothes so tight others would gasp as he sauntered by, affection and gentle devotion were too mild of words, to describe how he felt about the man.

I like Doyle, too, thought I don't see much of him. His desk isn't far distant from me, but he's only occasionally, visible. Buries his head in paperwork, does Doyle. The complete opposite of his partner in that respect. Bodie likes to keep on the move, a real man of action in his chosen profession, you could tell. Doyle, high on nervous energy at most times, was disciplined to the point where he could subject himself to several hours of unremitting paperwork at a stretch without voicing a complaint. And Bodie would act as late runner. Every time Doyle needed something copied or checked on the computer, Bodie would do it. Doyle would stick with reading while Bodie performed various tasks.

He didn't like to waste time, was how I explained Bodie to myself. Liked to be doing more than one thing at once. Probably an attitude developed in a previous job. One of those affairs where you had to rest and be on guard duty at the same time.

But Doyle was philosophical, more laid-back, regardless of the nervous energy. A fatalist to the core, Doyle preferred concentrating on doing one thing at any time, and that extremely well, the one benefiting from his complete attention.

So Doyle comfortably handed over his copy work to his fidgeting partner, and Bodie trotted faithfully over to me.

And here comes Bodie again, carrying a missive from his partner.

The love shines out of those blue eyes, and wouldn't Bodie be aggravated to know it. Presumes he's the original version of the stone man, does Bodie, and Doyle teases him about it even in front of others, like me. Doyle doesn't keep his remarks sotto voice very often, unfortunately for Bodie. The curly-headed moppet never thinks he or his partner have anything to hide.

But others are wondering about them and how deep their partnership runs. Me, too.

It's not much to go on, the fact they fetch each other dispenser coffee and sandwiches without asking. You can assume it's merely a good partnership, and many do. Cowley wants to believe that, you can tell. Which is why he always states they're his best team, and others should follow their examples.

Doesn't want to know. That's the truth about Cowley. Because knowing may hurt either him or the organization, and he won't have either.

Overly fond of the two of them, is Cowley. Bet he can't make up his mind which of them he prefers.

I don't have a preference, myself. They're too different to compare, Bodie and Doyle. Like apples and oranges, and if you want both, why give one up?

They remind me somewhat of that other couple, the one in New York. Only neither of them are blonde. I have a particular attraction to blondes, must be the way the overhead light reflects off the strands. I remember the transplanted Russian most fondly.

But it's time to return to work.

Oh, dear. That's Murphy approaching.

I hate collating, I nearly always jam. If it wasn't for the stimulating environment, working in top secret organizations, I'd give it all up. I'm dreadfully over-worked for my years, you see. And I'm not the only one.

The staff has been betraying signs of frustration this past year. The paperwork has increased in size, along with the organization, but Cowley has been too cheap to purchase a back-up machine. Figures I can handle the load myself.

Thinks the world runs on his say-so, does Cowley.

-- THE END --