Either statement was appropriate in Steelbeak's case.

He'd awakened at six thirty, promptly shooing the previous evening's prize out the door. How she convinced him to let her stay over until dawn, he couldn't remember. Likewise, he couldn't even remember her name. Had she even told him? Probably not. Did he care? Certainly not.

Steelbeak fixed himself a large breakfast and settled in his kitchenette for a good hour, thinking about the day ahead of him. It was a well-earned day off and he had a date scheduled that evening that -- for once -- he was really anticipating.

Checking the weather section of the newspaper, he discovered it was set to be the ideal autumn day and decided to take full advantage of it with a long and aimless motorcycle ride. Since making top agent in F.O.W.L., he didn't seem to get a whole lot of time to fritter away on his bike. Somehow and for some reason, his faceless employer didn't seem to like to see him on that thing. It was an unnecessary risk taken by an irreplaceable asset, or some similar hardly believable excuse they'd given him.

Grabbing his helmet and black leather jacket, he slipped out of his domicile, sneaked out to his motorcycle and escaped F.O.W.L. property before they could stop him with any ridiculous demands or excuses. He'd lost many a day off tying to leave on that motorcycle in the past and he wasn't about to lose this one as well.

One thing he hadn't planned on was faulty wiring with the inner workings of his motorcycle. Steelbeak revved the engine as hard as it would permit, pulling up to the sidewalk in front of a random department store. While the bike idled, he pulled out his state-of-the-art portable communications device and dialed up his mechanic.

Steelbeak's mechanic, a hedgehog named Jon, was one of the best in the motorcycle repair business. He was also impressively personable and Steelbeak found -- whenever he had to call Jon -- that their conversations always managed to wander. And almost always, the topic they wandered to was women. Jon was just as big a fan of the fairer gender as Steelbeak was, though their preferences differed greatly. Still, the F.O.W.L. agent enjoyed their chats, despite the undeniable fact that it meant he would have to get his precious motorcycle repaired.

Jon's expertise also meant he was expensive. Fortunately, the compensation package for eternal servitude to F.O.W.L. was generous.

"'Ey, Jon!" Steelbeak greeted him. Before he could even tell Jon about the motorcycle's problem, something else caught his attention: a petite, stunning woman heading to the giant glass doors of the Stacy's department store from the valet's kiosk.

"Steelbeak!" Jon replied. "To what do I owe this honor?"