Fenton Crackshell gazed into the screen-printed gray eyes of a younger and more innocent Tegwen Dodgers. Her gaze was not focused on the photographer -- a media representative snapping candid images of the rich and famous -- but on the wide-eyed and totally oblivious accountant on her arm.

Fenton would have to thank Webbigail again for locating the benefit article in her scrapbook. It had done wonders confirming to Fenton that Mr. McDuck spoke the truth. It also had given him the confidence to proceed with his plan. Even after he'd watched them skating together.

Fenton sighed, annoyed that he could not shake the feeling that there was more between the rooster and duck than friendship. Still, it was partially thanks to spying on Tegwen's dates with Steelbeak that gave Fenton the drive to rescue her.

If she was in any sort of relationship with him -- and he couldn't deny that something was going on, much as he hated it -- then this was the perfect season for Steelbeak to show her off. There was always some sort of company party, gala, Christmas dance or formal ball to be found in St. Canard and Duckburg.

Even F.O.W.L. had one. And it was under the guise of a fund raiser, which meant anyone could attend. As long as said person could afford the steep ticket price. Or, in Fenton's -- or technically Gizmoduck's -- case, if they had friends in the Duckburg Intelligence Agency who could reproduce a perfect forgery.

He knew Tegwen would be there. He had his ticket and had rented a suit. All that remained was the most treacherous part of his plan. Fenton had to inform his mother.

"M'ma? I'm going to be going out tomorrow night."

"Whatever for, Fenton?"

"I have a date," Fenton replied smugly. It wasn't every day he was able to say those words. In fact, it had been years. Years since his old girlfriend had demanded an engagement ring which Fenton had been unable to produce. Not on his salary anyway. And she'd been the last girl he'd dated. Partially because he hadn't really felt like getting his heart broken again, and partially because no one else had seemed interested.

"It's a real big party," he continued. "Fancy dress, high class, expensive food, the real deal. I don't suppose I'll be back early."

"A date?" M'ma replied, as if that was the only thing she'd heard out of everything he'd said. "I'll expect you home by seven, then. In time to watch Wheel of Wealth with me!"

"M'ma!" Fenton whined. "I'm going to go get Tegwen. . . Sweep her off her feet. . . Bring her home finally! I doubt she'll want to join us in front of the TV!"

"A date. . . with a girl?" It was like she was five minutes behind him. "Oh, that's rich! Do yourself a favor, dear, and don't wear that awful cologne of yours! That stuff smells like a dumpster full of garbage on a hot day. It's probably the reason Gandra still won't take you seriously. Listen to your mother, she knows best."

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