They didn't even seem to care about the missions they were assigned. Because of this they usually got the most repulsive jobs possible. The ones no one else would touch. Which lead to their company nick name of the Dirty Pair.

Randel could only guess that they had to be smarter then they put on. Either that, or there had to be some tiny, hidden portion of their brains that kicked in, working with skill and precision of a Sherlock Holmes. Only with them, the solution of their investigation didn't happen all at once. It slowly bubbled up. Taking it's own sweet time before one of them recognized what was going on around them.

It had to be something like that. They couldn't possibly be relying only on pure luck. Could they?

His intercom beeped once and Randel steeled himself. They were here. He took a deep breath and hoped the Valium he'd taken would kick in soon.

"Hi Chief. You wanted to see us?" Leslie asked, just as bright and perky as a high school cheerleader.

Relax and smile, Randel told himself. They were the last people he wanted to see, and he hated when they called him Chief. He was only waiting for the day one of them reached for her shoe phone, then he'd know it was time for him to retire.

"Aaaaah, yes. Yes I did. Please, take a seat. I was just looking over this file…"

"It wasn't our fault!"

"What? No, not that file," Randel said hastily, although he still wasn't quite dear as to what they were doing naked at the bank. But as with most things regarding Leslie and Kay, he decided he'd rather not know.

"I'm talking about this. Your next assignment."

Leslie was the first to recover. "Oh sure, yeah…"

"We knew that," Kay finished for her partner while nodding her head.