The mischievous glint went out of Sheppard’s eyes like that. But the answering dark look was only there a second. “Why don’t you ask,” eyebrow quirk, “the writers?”

David waved his hand, dismissive. “Why ask them when I can go straight to the source? C’mon, give me something good. I’ll be able to lord it over Joe for months.”

Sheppard seemed to think about it, then leaned forward. “If I tell you, will you do me a favor?”

David knew better, but he was really curious—even more than he’d thought—and caution lost the battle to enthusiasm. “Sure. Anything.”