"So let me get this straight," Dande said, digging through the stack of CDs in front of her and mercilessly throwing anything relating to Celine Dion, Leo or that damn ship into a box labeled "cannon fodder," "all the Hos are now in various states of insanity or forgiveness, there's a whole new line of cars in the garage, and the daily mail call is now staggering."

Dorotea, accepting the margarita Judy just set on the bar, nodded. "Did you know they label cans of paint with the 'toxic waste' hazard label now?"

Judy rolled her eyes, hitting a button on the blender. "And lemme guess, that's the stuff for the dorm re-re-decorating, isn't it? We sleep in those rooms."

Dande waved a hand in the air, her other hand squeezing yet another Titanic CD into oblivion. "At least she didn't touch my tower."

"A little residual anger over the marshmallow toast, Dande?"

The Wench glared at Dorotea, who serenely sipped from the umbrella decorated glass.

"Virgin strawberry margarita, Dande?" Judy offered, raising an eyebrow.

Pausing to sweep a lock behind her ear, she nodded angelically. "Yes, please. After all, I still have to guard the life of this precious unborn child. He would want his son strong an healthy like... like... "

The bartender paused. And here for a second she thought they were making progress over this whole romantic angst thing. "Extra tequila in your next one, Dorotea?"

Holding up her glass, the Ho nodded. "Yes, please."

~*~

"Did you gather all that film up?"

Julia nodded and pulled an undeveloped roll from her pocket. "Last one and then we lock them all into the safe in the dark room, not to be seen again until we figure out who's messing with the Tattler."

Sere looked down as she breezed by the bumper of a Mercedes, pausing when she spotted a pair of feet dangling out from under the Porsche. "That isn't Cal, is it? He's not touching the cars again... is he?"

There was a worried look on the other's face until she glanced at the shoes. "Not unless he suddenly went to wearing real Italian pumps."

"Good point. Hello?"

With a roll of wheels, the mystery person slid out from underneath the car body and grinned. "Hey, I thought I heard someone."

"Jael?"

"Hey Julia," Jael grinned turning off the mini-flashlight and sliding the headphones off her ears.

Sere raised a hand in question. "What are you doin'? Is something broken?"

Oh, no, not at all," the Geek Art Goddess grinned, still acting like the cat with the cream. "I just wanted a new look at my baby car. Isn't it gorgeous? And it drives like a dream... here's I'll give you two a ride someplace... to the art supply shoppe, maybe?"

Julia lovingly fondled the last piece of film she would be holding for a while. "Um, no, that's alright, Jaelly, but thanks."

Sere wrinkled her nose. Something wasn't right here. "Nah, bunch of stuff to do. Raincheck?"

"Okay, sure." Jael nodded amicably, put the headphones back on her ear, turned up the CD volume on the player strapped to her waist and slid herself back under the car.

There was a palpable pause before either of the two spoke again, and just as Sere was about to wisely suggest that they lock up the film before either of them caved and grabbed the closest camera, she jumped back and pointed to a figure moping their way...

In flannel pajamas.

"Emmy?!"

Carrying a small broom and dustpan, the deflated Divah waved a free hand. "Hey Grrls."

Noticing that she neither stopped nor attempted to be friendly, Julia took up step and prodded the usually boisterous Alpha Ho. "So what's up? Anything special and gossip worthy?"

Opening the door at the end of the garage, turning to walk down the driveway, Emmy knelt by the shattered remains of the tiara, bending over with the broom and dustpan. "Nope."

"Any more General torture?"

Sweeping up glittering bits, Emmy shook her head. "Nope."

Sere and Julia looked at each other. "Any aliens come down and eat the entire student population of the school?"

Scooting the dustpan to the edge of the carnage, filling it up with all the shiny bits to the point of jamming mini-broom points into cracks of the concrete, Emmy shrugged. "Nope."

"So what are you doing?"

"Putting the Diva in garbage chute where she belongs, grabbing some mineral water on the way back and curling up with a certain hunny fanatic for some quality neurotic Ho time."

And with that, not bothering to smooth her skirt, Emmy turned around, moped back into the garage and closed the door behind her with a dejected *click.*

Julia once more touched the film roll. " I really need a camera, Sere."

Sere nodded sagely, feeling the withdrawal setting in. "Maybe we could play with some Viewfinders."

"Do they have some for the original movies?"

Sere pointed in the direction of the main building. "Yeah, but they're all of that guy with the Oakland Raider helmet and black cape."

Julia's face fell. "Oh."

~*~

"I keep telling you guys, it was a bad idea to let Ban supervise this repainting!"

"Hey, go easy on that paint, if we have an extra can we can return it and get the money back!"

Kymira lobbed a blob of paint towards Jen. "You could have said something beforehand."

Wiping the mass of Robin's Egg Blue paint off her cheek with her now ruined "I'm a Goddess, worship me" t-shirt, Jen gestured with her brush. "I did."

Brenda, dragged into the mess after accidentally mentioning that she had helped re-paint the family fence many years, winced. "Not that it would have helped anyways, she's obsessed over restoring the opera house fund."

Staring up the ladder, Deb handed a roller up to Pixie, dodging drops of paint. Somehow when she signed up for this, dorm repair just wasn't part of the brochure.

Stalking across the room, whip in hand, Ban cracked it threateningly. "Hey, watch it there. All those drips could cover that circus ring motif."

The Ewoks grumbled in response, and ran under the ladder with a plastic sheet attempting to catch the spatters. It was bad enough they hadn't gotten the clown paint out yet, but now it was mixing with this bright blue crap, which did so not go with their natural fur colour.

"Hey, give me the corner brush."

"No, I'm using it."

"I need that brush."

"And what am I doing, playing with it?"

"Yes, give it over."

"Mine."

"Mine!"

"Hey, you two, share!" Dragging the whip behind her, Banaoire glared at Jen and Kymira.

Which they utterly ignored.

"Mine!"

"Mine!"

"Grrls!"

Brenda, having turned her head, winced. That laden paintbrush was dangerously close to...

And then, with Mel Brooks timing, the brush flew out of Jen's grasp, landing, bristle first, on Kymira's forehead.

"Oh, that does it," Kymira growled, dipping her own brush in the paint can by her feet.

Jen tried to not giggle.

At which point her friend chucked a brush full of paint her way.

"Hey!" Ban shouted just as both grrls fell in the floor, laughing and continuing to fling paint at each other.

"Oh, chill!" Kymira cackled, flinging a hand full of blue at Ban.

The rest of the room suddenly fell silent, the sight of the music department chair's face dripping with paint a bit shocking.

And then someone giggled.

"Paint fight!!!"

~*~

"Paddington, tell me I'm not insane."

Sitting serenely on Caeryn's desk, his unblinking eyes regarding her worriedly, the bear let his mistress continue her rant. He owed her as much anyways considering she had obligingly taken those evil clothes off of him and changed him into the snuggly comfortable PJs.

"I mean, look at me, do I look insane? I didn't just get busted out of a looney bin or a nunnery. Everyone talks to a pretend friend at some point in their life."

Paddington continued to listen, but secretly buried the hurt he felt over her just now calling him a "pretend friend."

"I know you understand me, Paddington, and just because I'm not six or ten or something doesn't mean I have to act all adult all the time. I mean, look at the General, he can throw tantrums, and what does he get?"

Paddington would have raised a paw in a question had he the ability to do so.

"Yes, okay, you're right. We got mad at him and taught him a lesson by going to another planet with a bunch of studs. But still, he's allowed, Diebin's allowed, why can't I be different?"

Paddington felt the urge to break out into song, the tune of "I Gotta Be Me," running through his stuffed head.

"I am not insane. I'M NOT! The General is wrong! He's being mean and spiteful to me for doing that horrible story in the Tattler and I'll never ever ever forgive him for it! I won't!"

Her rant was interrupted by her door flying open and a head peeking through. "Hey, Caeryn, bonfire tonight, if you want to burn something, get it together, it'll be great!"

The Dean raised her eyes slowly to meet the bouncing of one Jaelly Bean, perky Geek Artist. "Bonfire?"

"Yeah, gonna toss all the stuff we want eaten up in flames and watch it! Woohoo!"

Paddington looked nervous suddenly.

"Oh, okay," Caeryn nodded. "Paddington and I have a few things we'd like to put in then."

Jael bounced around again, and then suddenly fished around in her pocket. "Oh, and one last thing. Here's the keys to your car. Really cool, British, isn't it? I was looking at it after I polished the hubcaps of my Porsche. Anyways, see ya there!"

Paddington relaxed. Good, he was safe, and maybe he would be allowed to watch. Maybe if he convinced his mistress to place a few phone calls, he could arrange for a few Teddy Ruxpin dolls to meet that bonfire tonight.

"Car? What car?"

~*~

Jael hopped into the lounge, flyer in hand. "Hey Hos!"

Diebin, a paint soaked Brenda, a more paint soaked Ban, a slightly intoxicated Dorotea and a camera jonesing Sere met her with cautious stares.

"We're having a bonfire! Gonna burn lots of stuff! It'll be great! Out on the landing pad tonight, I just had maintenance move the vehicles so it could be frigging huge!!"

Diebin moved to stand up, a little concerned about this turn of behaviour in her twin, but a hand latched on her shoulder. "Are you feeling alright?"

Using the staple gun in her hand to put the flyer up, Jael nodded. "Oh yeah! Come on, bring whatever you want!"

Dorotea raised an eyebrow. Jael was hopping around, humming something while she embedded the twentieth or twenty-third staple into the bulletin board.

And then she bounced out.

Brenda looked at Ban, who was staring in confusion at the display they had all just witnessed. "Uh, Ban?"

Banaoire turned, a paint fleck clinging to her hair thwacking her in the face. "Yes?"

"Is this paint flammable?"

~*~

"'My dear, we really need to talk. I understand you were upset at that rascal General, but I really don't understand why--'"

Hitting the fast forward button with the slam of a finger, Darry hissed through her teeth and reached for the pack of cigarettes on her desk. This was a helluva time for him to get... well, be his normal self around her. She knew he had to be mad, and knowing the efficiency of the Coruscant creditors, he had already gotten the rather sizeable bills, which was why he had been calling.

And as for what exactly she planned to do to get her way out of them and still keep her rather comfortable position in his... office... and still keep the university funds flowing, she wasn't exactly sure yet.

"'I could really use your help around here, my dear, it just isn't the same without you around making fun of all the other senators. We can resolve this bill thing--'"

Darry hit fast forward again. Did he have to leave the same message on her machine three billion times?!

"'Alright, I know you know that I can afford it but--'"

The nurse hissed through her teeth again and grabbed a lighter. The damn General was nowhere around just when she needed him. She was the only one giving it out, why the hell wasn't he at her beck and call?

"'I still haven't apologised enough for the car, have I? My dear, I assure you I mean well and you can come and complain about whatever you want if--'"

Darry banged her head on her desk. That bonfire was sounding better and better all the time.

~*~

"Out. Of. My. Office."

Tom Servo suddenly wished he had a lip to pout with. "But I thought you loved me."

The Student Affairs Dean pointed out the door. "Job. Your actual job is in Emmy's office, you know, PR? Now that everyone's back and the database is being restored by the proper staff, I don't need your help here."

Tom turned to leave, sniffling.

Easing her stance, unfolding her arms, Shana caved a bit. "But you can come back after both you Bots are done with work and watch movies."

The little red Bot brightened immediately. "Oh, okay. Later."

~*~

Diebin, determined to not over-angst this thing, sighed. Tucked in the corner of Emmy's office, neither of the Hos that belonged there actually there, she sighed again.

Yeah, so it was her that had done the desk thing, but she didn't advance the lawsuit. She didn't try to shove him out of his office. She didn't try to attack him for the Tattler report...

Alright, so she did attack him for that, but at least he still had all his fingers and toes afterwards. That HAD to mean something.

But now she was jobless. The nuns didn't want her, the Hos made no effort to give her a new job and the General was out. No more job for him meant no need for a secretary.

It was a big school. She could do something else... but what?

Maybe she could do geek art.

No, Jael had that. Dammit.

Emmy had a job now. Emmy had a big job. Emmy even had a Padawan Ho.

But she was also dragging a Pooh bear around and dressed in her flannel jammies.

Maybe Caeryn needed a secretary.

Die paused. No, she was still a bit too nutters for that at the moment.

She could fire Vocab Man and take his job.

She shuddered. Maybe not.

She could be get rid of the Bot and be Shana's secretary.

No, maybe not. Shana did actual paperwork.

Tapping a beat on the wall next to her, Diebin shook her head again and resolved to sit in the corner until she came up with a new job for herself.

Well, or at least until the bonfire. Maybe playing with burning wood inspire her to something.

~*~

"Grr, grr."

"Why would you be nervous about it? You're maintenance, they won't pitch you onto the fire."

"Grrr."

Cal followed Vocab Man down the hall, looking at the various admin doors and their state of opening or closing. "Yeah, Tasha would defend you."

"Grr?"

"Oh, you know, that's right." Cal peered into Caeryn's office, noting that the Dean still talking with the bear. "Classes do start pretty soon, I wonder how the cleaning schedule will work."

There was a sudden shriek from the office as the Dean leaped over her desk, dashed past the chair where Paddington had been tucked in for his nap and skidded to a stop at her doorway. "Classes?!"

Cal gulped. Maybe they should just keep walking. "Yeah. Classes. Though they might get delayed with all you staff being gone for a while..."

"Holy shit! Classes!"

And with that, Caeryn whipped around, slammed the door behind her, and the next sounds that were to be heard was her frantic typing as she started to recreate the class schedule and department information.

"Grrr."

"Yeah, you're right. Not having the General or Nutella around really has driven them bonkers."

~*~

"I know I sent Tom away. Dammit, Crow, it's his job. He doesn't work in this office."

The gold Bot sat dejectedly in the chair across from the desk. "He was helping here."

"The database is back, Crow, we have to get back to normal now."

Nearly falling out if his chair laughing, Crow cackled. "Normal! You're normal! You are all nuts and it shows!"

Shana leaned across her desk and pointed a finger. "Watch it, goldie, or it's pasta strainer for you."

There was a pause. "You have seen the recent Tattler, right?"

The Ho blinked. "Nice topic change, utensil. Just the stuff the other Hos were talking about."

Crow held out the paper. "Page 3, left column."

There was a silence as Shana grabbed the paper, set it on her desk, leafed to page three and lowered her eyes to read. And then, with the swell of music worthy of a slasher movie, the moment was broken with:

"'GENERAL FEARS DEAN OF STUDENT AFFAIRS MAY BE CAMPUS KILLER???!!!'"

Crow cringed.

"'Exclusive interviews with other HSU staff confirms that yes, the director of Student Affairs is indeed a bit on the sociopathic side, given to fits of anger that are very homicidal in nature. "We heard," reports an anonymous staffer, "that she may have strangled her mother."'"

"So did you?"

Shana balled up the paper and chucked it at her secretary. "What?"

"Strangle your mother?"

"NO!! And I never actually hurt that damn Ewok, either! It only looks that way in this doctored photo! But I did think about it-- ah shit."

"What?"

"The General probably heard that thought. Oh, the asshole! He's dead! I mean! No! He's not dead! I don't kill people! I'm not a murderer! I don't revel in blood and death and violence!"

Hopping off the chair and heading for the door, Crow nodded. "Sure. I'll be going now."

"No. Stay." she hissed, leveling a finger.

The Bot, finding that it was not entirely impossible that his boss had sociopathic thoughts, walked to and around the desk.

"Crow?"

"Yes?"

Shana dropped her head on her desk. "Please pull 'Encyclopaedia of Serial Killers,' the vampire books, my FBI behavioural science handbook, 'The Prince,' 'Rise and Fall of the Third Reich,' and the dictionaries of fallen angels off the bookshelf in here and put them on the basement shelf, please."

Crow nodded.

Mumbling to herself about normal versus real life, she raised her head when someone knocked at her door. "What?"

"Can I talk to you a moment?"

Hazel eyes narrowed as she recognised the voice. "Uh, sure, come in. Beat it, Crow, no witnesses."

With a huff, pushing the rather sizeable stack of books towards the trap door, the Bot shuffled his way to the basement.

Walking in a little cautiously, guessing that the balled up paper by the one chair was the all-offending Tattler, the General took a chance and walked behind the desk, pausing before speaking. "I wanted to talk to you."

Shana arched an eyebrow and resolved herself to stay mad. "Oh?"

"I was wrong about a lot of things."

"Like?"

"I could never replace all of you."

Stay strong. "So, you can replace some of us, then."

"No, no, that's not what I meant. Cautiously slipping his hands onto her shoulders, he squeezed them lovingly.

A drop of resolve faded with his touch. Dammit, being hard up for a shag was bad for the will power. "I'm sorry for all of it, and I wanted to give you something. Well, two things."

"Oh?"

Removing a hand to fish his fingers into a pocket, the General removed a set of keys and set them on the desk in front of his overworked Ho. "These are yours."

"You fixed the car?"

He coughed. "I replaced it. I had to pull a few strings and use the Force to convince them to let it go, but here it is. Your brand new BMW, James Bond style."

Another drop of resolve dripped away. "Bond?"

"M tried to shoot me, it got rather messy, but in the end she gave in."

Shana blinked. "I have the Bond car."

"And a new garden. Roses, and I promise no harm will come to them."

There was a pause at the auburn haired Ho's heart leapt up in joy. She had roses again. "Roses?"

Emboldened by the sudden loss of malicious energy around them, the General nodded and let his hands slide down her arms tenderly, but not before slipping a perfect white rose bud behind her ear. "A garden full of them, all of them blooming or about to."

"Roses... I have roses again."

"Martha promises me that they're the healthiest she's ever seen."

If there was ever a moment for the dramatic forgiveness music to cut out violently, it was this moment. "Martha."

"And that they'll bloom again during the summer."

"Martha."

He nuzzled her now still head, daring to inhale the scent of her conditioner. "And I'm very sorry about the newspaper. You should know that it's not me behind it, and that I would never say anything like that."

Shana stiffened. "Martha?!"

"She... it's okay, she's not that bad a person."

Hooking her feet on her desk and using the angle to shove the chair violently back towards the windows, Shana spun it around and poked a finger at the startled, black clad man. "You want me back?"

"Yes."

"You WANT me back?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"I-- yes!"

"Fine." Spinning the chair and scooting it back up to the desk, switching off the screensaver with a violent jerk of the mouse, Shana half-turned her head. "Her head. On a platter. By the bonfire."

Down in the basement, Crow cheered.