TOPIC: *  Use the following: a queen, a portrait, something silver, a lock of hair, an insult.

******

Ray walked into the consulate to pick Fraser up for lunch.  Only thing was - there was no Fraser.

Wandering around, he found Turnbull dusting the portrait of the queen.  "Hey Turnbull.  Where’s Fraser."

"Detective Vecchio.  Welcome to Canada.  How are you doing today?"

"I’m fine.  Where’s Fraser?"

Turnbull tucked his duster into his apron before removing his rubber gloves.  "Have you looked in his office?"

Ray looked at the taller man as if he had the intelligence of a mouse.  Come to think of it, that was probably an accurate description.  "Well geeze, why didn’t I think of that?  Look for Fraser in his office."  Slapping his head in a mock fashion, he turned and walked out of Ice Queen’s office, muttering to himself.  "Have you looked in his office?  Of course I’ve looked in his office.   Where else would I look for him?"

"Ray?  What are you doing here?"

Okay, now he was looking at Fraser like he had the IQ of a mouse.  "Lunch?"

"Ah yes.  I’m sorry Ray.  I won’t be able to make lunch today."

"Why not?"  No, he was not whining.

"The Inspector has given me extra work to do today, and I must have it done this evening before she heads home."

Ray scratched his cheek while looking down at his feet.  "Okay.  How about dinner then?"

"That would be fine, Ray."

*****

Hanging around the precinct, waiting for the big hand to land on the 12 while the little one rested on 5 was taking too long.  Ray’s eyes began to wander around the bull pen, looking at everything and anything.  Huey had, huh, imagine that, two men, he thought, one dressed as Cher, the other as Madonna, sitting at his table, making statements.  Dewey was walking out of the break room, one donut in mouth, another in hand.  Frannie was doing her nails - imagine that.  The Leau, he was pacing in his office, rubbing his stomach - obviously ate at the diner down the street again.

Unconsciously, he started tapping his pencil on his desk, keeping rhythm to the song playing in his head.

This day was never going to end.

*****

5:30, he walked through the Consulate door, noticing that Turnbull was sitting at his desk, the complete collection of silverware sitting before him.   Ray couldn’t resist.  He stood before the Canadian’s desk and picked up one of the sterling silver knives.  "What you doin’?"

Turnbull snatched the knife from his hand, giving Ray a withering look before studiously polishing Ray’s fingerprints from the utensile.

"Ray."

The detective looked up to see that Fraser was scolding him, but still amused by his antics.  "Hey Fraser.  Ready for dinner?"

Fraser turned around and closed his office door.  "Yes I am."

As they were walking out the door, Ray studied the other man.  "Hey Fraser?  How do you stay so fresh looking?"

"Excuse me Ray?"

"Well, you wear your clothes all day - yet they look wrinkle free.  Your hair, well, not a single lock of it is out of place.  I mean, you look as good now as you did when we left the apartment this morning."

"I don’t know what to tell you, Ray."

Ray looked down at himself and sighed.   He personally looked as if he had been put through a ringer.
 

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