'"I still think this is a bad idea," my attractive administrative assistant said, as I reached for the door of the tent.

"You keep saying that, Bunny," I said, pitching my voice low so all the shoppers and merchants passing by us in the streets of the Bazaar at Deva didn't hear me. "We're just saying 'Hi' to the old gang. They'd expect us to. If anything, they'd be hurt if we didn't."

"Uh-huh. You keep saying that." She gave a toss of her short red hair.

I gave up. I didn't know enough women to make sweeping generalities, but I knew Bunny, and once she had her mind set on something, it was next to impossible to talk her out of it. Besides, we had reached our destination.

Standing outside the narrow tent that was the headquarters of M.Y.T.H., Inc., I paused for a moment to let the memories wash over me before ducking into the short entryway. This had been my home for years, my office and base of operations as the Great Skeeve before I retired. Much of my adult life had been tied to this deceptively small abode. It was a lot bigger on the inside than it was on the outside, to quote everyone who had ever stepped inside to do business.

I started to reach for the tent flap that separated the office from the outside world, but hesitated. This wasn't my home anymore. It didn't seem right just to barge in. Instead, I turned and gave the small gong hanging on the entry way wall a light tap.

"C'mon in," a familiar voice called from within.

I felt more than saw Bunny's wince at the greeting. Back when she ran the office, she insisted that formal decorum be maintained on the premises, particularly in front of prospective clients. Obviously, things had loosened up a bit since our departure. They would probably change back again now.