Brennan and Booth were sitting at a table in the Jeffersonian, complaining about how disappointed they were about the lack of closure in Sunnydale.
"You know," Booth said, "Reports of the murders have stopped coming in. I hope whoever did it got blown up."
"Actually," Brennan corrected, "there were no traces of explosives in the wreckage. The whole town appears to have... collapsed."
Angela walked in with a sketchbook. "A lot of people all claim to have seen someone very suspicious and gave me very colorful descriptions of him… though many called him "it." She showed them an illustration of a very strange creature with pale skin, protruding veins, long, sharp teeth, catlike eyes, and a bald head. It was clothed in… leather?
Angela cheerfully explained, "I tried putting a smile on him, but he ended up looking like a creepy stalker."
Booth grinned. "It looks like Elvis combined with Godzilla."
Brennan raised an eyebrow, indicating she could not make sense of this statement.
"Oh!" Booth said. "That reminds me. When we were in Torrance, I
took the liberty of getting you this." He handed her a book.
"'Popular Culture for Idiots?'"
Booth's smile disappeared. "Ignore the title. Bad title." Brennan laughed. Booth gasped dramatically. "Oh, dear god! WHAT HAVE I DONE? I have accomplished the impossible!"
"Hey, speaking of impossible," Brennan interrupted, "How about we have some Thai food and actually split the cost? …Not that I mind you demanding that we rock-paper-scissors-shoot to avoid paying."
"Yeah, why is it that you always win?"
"Logic. Every time I beat you, you feel vulnerable and your subsequent selection is 'the next one up' and I do whatever beats that."
"That's not logic. That's psychology. You hate psychology!"
"Whatever. C'mon, let's eat!"