“So what’re you doin’?” he asked.

“Working,” I replied. “And for some reason, feeling very old.”

“Yeah, funny how it creeps up on ya’,” he said. “I remember goin’ to bed one night feelin’ like a twenty year old. When I got up I had all kinds of old man pains, and I had no freakin’ idea where they came from.”

“Same here.”

“Come on, though,” he jibed. “I thought you Witches were immortal.”

“Have you been watching sixties sitcom re-runs again?”

“It’s the only thing on TV worth lookin’ at anymore. Besides, the Montgomery gal is pretty hot.”

“Ever wonder why they changed Dicks mid series?” I made an obscure reference to the change of actors from the old show.

“Not really,” he replied. “But I have been wondering when you’re gonna wiggle your nose and make shit show up outta thin air.”

“Not going to happen, Ben.”

“Crap. I hate when you tell me that.”

As entertaining as the conversation had been, I was still wondering if another shoe was about to drop. “So, what about you? Shouldn’t you be out catching bad guys or protecting us from evil doers?”

“Day off,” he told me.

“Lucky you,” I said, still slightly suspicious. “So what are YOU doing?”

“Talking to you.”

“You’re in rare form today.”

“So sue me. So you wanna do lunch? I’m buyin’.”

“You’re buying? What’s up, you win big at the riverboat?” I chuckled.

“Hell no,” he answered. “Lost fifty bucks last time I did that.”

“It’s a little early for lunch yet isn’t it?” I asked.

He came back with a question of his own. “Depends. When’d you get up this morning?”

“Point taken,” I replied. “Yeah. Lunch sounds good. I could use a break anyway. What did you have in mind?”

“There’s a great little Indian place on Olive, downtown.”