Maureen practically pranced pas the waves of students in the halls of NYU. Several faces turned to stare at her, but she paid them no attention: that had been enough flirting for one hour, at least.

Maureen wrinkled her brow as she tried to remember Collins's room number. Damn, I just can't get it…wait, I remember when he told it to me! We were at the loft, and he and Angel were making out and I teased them, and he told me to shut up and…oh god, the beer was really good that night, and later with Honeybear—no, focus! Ok, he told me to shut up and I called him a professor and junk and he said something about room 213. No, 321. No, 312! Argh! Oh, oh, it was a fun little number, like it went up in perfect order and it had 1, 2, and 3 in it…shit, I'm an idiot.

Maureen looked up and down the hall. 111, 117…123! Maureen lunged for the door as only Maureen could lunge. Peeking in the small window of glass, she saw that kids were standing and collecting their books. A class had just ended. In front of the crowd, down by the blackboard was Collins, wearing an actual button down shirt and sensible pants (Maureen shuddered with revulsion when she saw those). He had glasses on his nose and a pen in his shirt pocket. Yet nothing could induce him to remove his beanie, and Maureen could swear she even saw a pin that Angel had bought him resting at the hem. The pin was about the size of a quarter and the background was pink and white stripes. It said in red letters, "I had my soul removed to make room for all this sarcasm." Underneath the word "sarcasm", penned in blue ink were the words, "and love for you, baby. Love, Angel." It had been a sweet moment when Angel had given it to Collins one night when they had all gathered in Central Park, and Maureen saw how, when all the kissing and touching and other actions had been stripped away (not that these things weren't pretty damn awesome), the two really loved each other, deeper than deep down. Love can only truly be expressed in pins, as was Maureen's new belief.

But then of course the others had to have pins too, and they had swarmed the vendor who was selling them. Maureen's was hanging securely from the belt loop on her pants. It was the same size as Collins's and the background was a sort of yellow and orange tye-dye. The purple script read, "Never underestimate the power of a sick mind." Collins himself had proclaimed it the only pin worthy of Maureen, presenting it to her with a flourish. It had been with her 24/7 ever since.

The door flew open, almost smacking Maureen in the nose. Students streamed out, chatting and groaning and already frantically scanning their textbooks. Maureen slipped past them and entered the classroom, hiding beside the door for the last few students to leave. Finally, the only people left in the vast classroom were she and Collins. He was standing beside his desk, leafing through a binder full of papers. Maureen, using the skills she had developed when she had to sneak back into the loft at night without Mark waking up, descended the stairs, making no noise. Finally, when she was on the last step and about a meter from Collins, she attacked.

"ALIENS ARE ATTACKING! WE'VE BECOME A MONARCHY! COWER IN FEAR!" Maureen screamed at the top of her lungs, launching herself at Collins. The tall black gay man spasmed and shrieked, a sound that started as a falsetto and traveled down to a bass. He threw his binder in the air just before Maureen crashed into him. The two smashed into the ground, overturning a wastepaper basket that shed about thirty little pieces of paper the size of a marble.

"Oh…my…fucking...God…Maureen." Collins said slowly. They had come to a stop, sprawled across the floor. Maureen's head was by Collins's elbow, and one of her feet was jammed in his hip. She smiled. That had been fun.

"You are the most fucking insane person I have ever seen," Collins said again, sounding strangely calm. He was lying on the floor of his classroom with one of his best friends digging her high heels into his hip. Yup. Nothing weird about that. Nope.

"Aw, c'mon Collins," Maureen giggled, picking herself up from the ground. She dusted herself off, checking that her clothes were intact.

"I am convinced that either you are high, this is a dream, or I should be calling Psych Ward right now."

"Be quiet, you've done worse," Maureen said happily, reaching down and taking one of his hands. She hauled him to his feet. He seemed to be in shock.

"Seriously Mo, I will kill you if anything like that happens again, I swear on Roger's guitar and Mark's camera." Maureen gasped and pressed a hand to her heart.

"Collins, you realize what you just did. That's a sacred oath. I'm going to have to go into the Witness Protection Program."

"You're an idiot." Collins laughed and pulled Maureen into a bear hug. She grinned and returned the embrace. When they broke apart, Collins wrapped an arm around her waist and asked in an atrocious English accent, "What did aye do to desuhve such a visit, eh?" Maureen laughed and swatted his beanie.

"You suck at that, Collins. Take lessons from Roger, why don't you. And for your information, I just wanted to spend sometime with my bestest friend in the whole wide world. Isn't that legal?" Collins was about to retort when he heard a loud, rough sound at the door. He sighed and straightened his glasses, which had been knocked askew in the crash.

"Mo, I got a class. But hey, it ends in an hour and a half. Wait around and we can go get coffee." Maureen pouted, but shrugged and smiled to say yes. Before she could move, though, the door burst open and students poured in, talking and singing and laughing. They seemed to stop when they saw Maureen, and then shouts of "Hey, Professor, is that your girlfriend?" and "Ooh, kiss her, Professor Collins" began to fall from the crowd. Collins blushed and started to say something, but Maureen cut him off. She turned, kissed his cheek, and said in a low, sexy voice, "See you after class, honey." Then, her hips swinging, she sauntered up the stairs, enjoying the stares and cheers. Collins put his head in his hands, trying not to laugh.

Maureen reached the door and exited, closing it behind her. She wandered over to a bench, sat down, and pulled out a nail file. An hour and a half. Time to kill. And what better way to kill time than with a nail file?