"Is Nyssa seeing someone behind your back?" Wesley Crusher asked Adric, digging his elbow into the Alzarian's ribs and pointing across the tavern floor. Adric looked up sharply from the Settlers of Catan game board, glancing across the room to where his uniformed friend pointed. "Very funny." On the other side of the tavern, several of the tables had been pushed aside to make room for a large Iron Lung. Only a head, crowned with disheveled red hair, could be seen poking out. Tegan, fussing maternally, held up something tropical in a coconut shell for the stricken patron to sip. "What happened to him?" asked Wesley. "Dalek attack or a starring role in a Knight Rider slash fiction?" "He turned up at BKW's place after midnight, wearing a Western Union uniform," Adric said. "Claimed to be delivering a telegraph from former NRA President Charlton Heston. Turned out he had a summons from Wolfram and Hart." "Bad move," Wesley said, wincing. "Yep, turns out some nut group called the Continuity Restoration and Preservation Society has slapped BK with a class-action lawsuit. His writing was apparently too creative for them. They are lobbying Parliment to outlaw anything other than their strict fundamentalist interpretation of canon." "Doctor Who or Ranma?" "Doesn't really matter," Adric said. "Needless to say, Brad discovered the summons only after Turlough had found out why making a unexpected midnight visit to the Willis homestead is, well ..." "Crazy as a snake on an eight-lane highway." "Got it in one," Adric said, tapping his nose. "Now, if you don't mind, it's my turn. I'll trade you three ore for one nice fat sheep ..."