Bonjour, Good Day, How is your family?

1st: New chapter of TWC3 is up on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/165643/chapters/244215
And at FF.net: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2460903/2/

2nd: The authors notes promise a deleted scene. You might possibly even wonder about that scene before you get to the end, where the author's notes are. What happened is that I wrote the scene where Drake apologizes to Beth, and wasn't really happy with it. It wasn't bad, but I felt like the whole chapter was running long, and I needed to trim it desperately. So I tried the chapter without the scene, just alluding to it, and it worked, IMO. But the scene has been written (and y'all readers might be curious), so I'm going to post it here with my handy-dandy Deleted Scene capabilities! Don't you love Fanfic Blog Extras? ;)

With this scene, there's a bit of duplicated information that shows up at the end of what I actually posted; that's because a small handful of information was important, and so I had to add it back into the chapter another way. I didn't bother to edit it out of here. So just in case you wonder why Beth and DW are having a conversation that they sort of have later on and neither seems to remember that they already talked about it... that's why. XD

Damn, I just realized that I forgot to put the "call me Beth" conversation in the version I posted. Meh. I can fix, though. Oh well! Enjoy!

***

"Ahem. Well," he said hesitantly.

After a moment, she said roughly, "Well..."

"So, uh... I think there may have been a slight misunderstanding just now, Ms. Webfoot," he began carefully. She shifted in a way that he couldn't read. He cleared his throat and said, "I, ah, I had it pointed out to me that you - *ahem* - overheard me say something that was just *ripe* for misinterpretation. And that you may have thought, mistakenly of *course*, that I was talking about *you* just now."

Beth lifted her head in a sort of sideways move, and he saw her eyes blink up towards his. "Re-really..?"

She looked miserable, to the point where he was embarrassed *for* her; it was like she wasn’t able to hide it, and it really wasn’t flattering. And for a moment, he had an awful, gut feeling that anyone who was acting out a deliberate plan wouldn’t be able to pull off so perfect a picture of misery. For just a moment, he was sure that she wasn't a supervillain, she wasn't a criminal mastermind, she was just a regular person. A generally somewhat annoying person, sure, but still a regular one. And he was a jerk.

Drake swallowed. No, that couldn’t be right. There was too much evidence to the contrary, too many coincidences to be real. He shook himself out of it, reminded himself why he was doing this, and then lied as hard as he could. "Oh yes. See, I had a conversation with a coworker this afternoon, and well, I'll spare you the details, but I was just telling Launchpad about it and it would seem that you walked in on the end of it. And from the look of things you jumped to conclusions here..."

She lifted her head slightly. "I... I did?"

He chuckled. "Yep, yep, looks like it." In lieu of anything else to say, he added, "I guess there's a lesson here about walking in on conversations-"

"Mr. Mallard?" She cut him off, and the look she was giving him was both hopeful and desperate. Speaking quickly and stiltedly, she said, "Do - I mean - do you want me - to leave?"

He hesitated. "P-pardon?"

"Just... just tell me." She sighed and put a hand up towards her forehead, shielding herself from him. "Just tell me right now, please, and... and that'll be that."

Oh, now this was too much. This catapulted him right back into his certainty that she was more than she said she was; no one could possibly do this without intending to twist the knife. He almost read her the riot act then and there, but then remembered that Launchpad would probably come to her rescue and tie him up, or something. Without the first idea of what to say or how this should go, he took a breath and lied again. "Nooooo, no no… Whatever could make you think *that*?"

There was a pause - he still couldn't see her face - and she said in a wobbly voice, "S-so you don't want me to leave?"

*Well-played, Beth Webfoot,* he thought. She was crafty. “Who, me? *Perish* the thought,” he said through gritted teeth.

With a slight sniffle she said, "Oh... Okay..." They paused and neither of them looked at each other, and then she said more loudly, "Boy, I sure feel silly over all this. Gosh. I'm - I'm really sorry."

"Oh, no, no no. Think nothing of it." Inwardly Drake was cringing, and wondering if he was really doing the right thing. Well, he was stuck with her now, so he’d *have* to be the one to take down her criminal empire – or whatever it was she was leading up to. "I mean, things... happen. No matter how much we might wish otherwise, am I right?"

"Sure," she said, and nodded. "Oh, Mr. Mallard ... I'm really sorry, also, about - about butting into your conversation."

Unexpectedly, he felt another flash of guilt when she said that, and he squirmed a little under her gaze. "Look, Ms. Webfoot-"

"Call me Beth!" she said instantly; it almost made him think she'd been waiting all this time for a chance to say that. "Um, please."

He winced. "Okay... Beth. Look, let's not even think about it again, huh?" She nodded, looking a little peppier than she had, and he was reminded of a puppy. "Okay, great, so we're settled. Look, I've got to get ready to go, so - so I'll just see you next time, right? We're paid up for the week?"

"Oh yes!" she said, nodding, and then looked thoughtful for a moment. He tried to escape before she spoke again, but she caught him halfway out the door. "Oh! Oh Mr. Mallard!"

He wondered if he could get away with not returning the first-name favour. With a sigh, he decided he probably couldn't. "Drake," he said wearily, turning back to face her. Her entire face brightened.

"I totally forgot what it was I was coming in to say to you! See, Gosalyn had asked me if she could have a friend over tonight and I wasn't sure what you'd think about that so I said I would ask you, I mean, it's pretty much okay with *me* but I don't know YOUR policy on the matter so I figured it was better to ask and be sure so that you didn't-"

"Okay okay, I get it. Are we talking about Honker?"

She looked a little blank, but said, "Is he the next-door neighbour?"

"Yep."

"Then yes, that must be right. Is that okay with you?"

"Sure, sure. Honker comes over all the time. Just make sure Gos doesn't force him to do her homework and there won't be any problems." He started out through the door again, and again she stopped him.

"Dr-Drake? One more thing. Um... is Honker... is he very much like - well, what I mean is-"

He knew what she was trying to ask, as she searched for a tactful way of asking without possibly insulting his daughter. "He's nothing like Gos. He's quiet and studious - you'll like him."

"Oh." She smiled, appearing to relax, and gave him a little wave. He returned it half-heartedly, and did his best to make sure she didn't see him roll his eyes on the way out. The last thing he needed now was to go through the whole darn thing over again.


***

The door to the kitchen opened slowly, almost carefully, and then Drake stepped out. Launchpad watched him, and when he didn’t say anything, Launchpad prompted him a little. “So..?”

Drake turned a look on him that Launchpad couldn’t exactly identify. It was sort of accusatory and annoyed, but also underneath it seemed like it was kind of fumbling and remorseful. It was definitely a glare, though, and Launchpad felt more sheepish every second it was turned on him. After a moment, Drake said, “So I apologized.”

...etc...