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Oddly, I lack a truly appropriate icon for this.

"Just suck it up and deal," Agent Richardson snarled, exasperated. The sooner his partner got out of the hospital, the happier he'd be. They'd both be, he supposed; couldn't be much fun for Maclean either, what with the hole in his guts, an' all. But Maclean didn't have to work undercover with this asshole from Michigan.

Agent Mathers expressed his opinions of their target, of Richardson, of the section head who'd given them the assignment, and of each and every homosexual in the contiguous United States, in seventeen pungent but unprintable words. According to his profile, Mathers was pretty damn smart. He could speak like a normal human being. He just never did. One of these days, Richardson was going to smack him.

Probably with a tire iron.

Today, though, was not one of those days. Today... looked like being fun, provided he could keep a straight face, and Agent Richardson was very good at doing that. He leaned back in his chair and glared at his temporary partner. "Yeah, well, seems you, me and this assignment are a match made in heaven. I mean, the man has rhythm, but can you see Agent Mosley being taken on as a stripper in a gay nightclub?"