The design, graphics and photo manipulations for these sites were done by Tara, whose wicked wit and many talents make her just the sort of person Doyle would spend time with --

"Y'see, Cordelia, it's like -- you think you've got her figured out? That's the sign that you not only haven't got her figured out, but you've got her dead wrong in some way that's gonna come back and bite you in the ass."

Tara shook her head and smiled as she sat down at the bar beside the slumped-over wreck of a man generally known as Alan Francis Doyle. "Bad luck again?"

"Luck?" Doyle shook his head. "What's that again? People keep usin' that word, but damned if I know what it means. At least not when it comes to Cordelia."

"Let's see." Tara began ticking points off on her fingers. "You're in debt to a dozen different loan sharks, half of which aren't human and one of which could probably be referred to as a 'shark' very literally, what with the gills and everything. You live in an apartment that would be rejected as unfit for the average crack house. And you're wearing that shirt. I'd say you don't know what 'luck' means in any sense of the word."

"What's the matter with this shirt?" Doyle said, peering down at the green-and-orange fabric, then squinted. "Gad. Lines look like they're movin'. Maybe I've had too much to drink at that."

"No, it's just the shirt," Tara said. She called to the bartender, "A Murphy's Stout, please."

"And another Guinness for me," Doyle added.

The bartender grinned. "The Irish stuff, huh? Can I interest you guys in our 2-for-1 special on Harp?"

Tara and Doyle stared at the bartender. Their eyes narrowed. The bartender blushed, stepped back and made some unintelligible excuses as he hurried to get their drinks.

"My advice to you -- you were asking for my advice, right?" Tara said.

"Hell, no," Doyle said. "Why would I go beggin' for what I'm gonna get for free? Whether I like it or not --"

Tara seemed to ignore this. "Stop trying to figure Cordelia out. She's still figuring herself out. Just -- go with the flow. That's what you do best, right?"

Doyle thought that over for a moment as the bartender put down their drinks and quickly stepped away. "Go with the flow? Sounds too easy."

"You're the one who keeps making it hard."

"Nah, that'd be Cordelia." Doyle laughed at the expression on Tara's face, then winced as she smacked him on the shoulder. "Ahh, watch your hands, woman."

This site was coded for html through the painstaking efforts of Amanda, whose helpfulness, patience and unfailing good humor make her exactly the kind of person Alexander Scott and Kelly Robinson would spend time with:

"Now, see, Amanda -- you don't mind if I call you Amanda?" Kelly flashed a grin at Amanda as she shook her head, smiled, then took a sip of her vodka martini. "We often find it within our, um, job description? Parvenu?"

"What are you on about, with the parvenu?" Scotty said, taking a seat by Amanda.

"As I was saying, we often find ourselves escorting the daughters of ambassadors. Why, at times, it seems every American ambassador has a young daughter."

"You end up babysitting?" Amanda raised an eyebrow.

"Has been known to happen," Scotty said with a shoulder-shrug in Kelly's direction. "Do not trust that man with a diaper. I warn you now."

"Certainly I did not mean that we were babysitting YOU," Kelly said, holding out a glass of milk for Scotty. "What I meant is that -- well, I find myself wondering, don't you, Scotty? Is it a requirement for being an ambassador? You have to be a person of a certain age --"

"-- certain experience --" Scotty added.

"-- and with an attractive, vivacious daughter who, despite her many charms, needs a couple of fellows such as ourselves to show her the sights of her new country of residence."

"It's uncanny," Scotty said.

"Well, you don't have to worry about me," Amanda said. "I'm actually well-acquainted with Hong Kong."

"Perhaps you could introduce us sometime," Kelly said.

She smiled and continued, "My father's overprotective. But I want to tell you both right now; you shouldn't put yourselves out for me at all. I want you to just -- relax. Go about your business. Do whatever you'd do if you were alone."

Kelly and Scotty exchanged glances. Kelly finally said, "Whatever -- well, that word, whatever, that includes a lot of things --"

"Whatever," Amanda insisted. "ANYTHING. Just -- pretend I'm not here."

Everyone smiled.

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