Penny barges right on in, per usual, without any answer. (Her knock's more of a warning, anyway.) Sheldon's staring at his laptop, perched on his Spot, per usual. What sends the klaxons blaring in her mind is his non-response to her 'rudeness'.

She plops down next to him, determined to get his attention (holy crap-on-a-cracker.)

"Hey, Moon Pie," she drawls, poking her face into his personal bubble, glancing at his laptop's screen. The Sims 3, Cooper Household. He hasn't played them in a while. He's not even taking notes now, just staring at the game, which, Penny finally realizes, is paused.

"Moon Pie! Has Physiology finally knocked you off your rocker?" The intentional slur against his profession is what rouses him.

"Theoretical Physics, Penny! Not Physiology! I see no correlation between either profession or a rocking chair, in any case."

"Wow, for a Forensic Anthropologist you sure do like to play dumb, Moon Pie." She grins. "Besides, I know how many times Leonard has explained that phrase to you."

"Fine," he surrenders. "I still see no correlation between my mental state and a rocking chair."

"Correlate all you want, Moon Pie. You still get the point, and now you're just avoiding the question."

He huffs again and Penny mentally celebrates. Just like junior rodeo back home.

"I am perfectly adequate, Penny." Twitch.

"No you're not," she says, pointing to the still screen. "You're usually taking notes."

"Perhaps I am merely resting my retinas. Prolonged exposure to computer screens can be very damaging to one's eyesight." Twitch-twitch.

"Oh, PUH-lease! You don't take breaks during Age of Conan! I smell bull, Sheldon." She glares. His whole face spasms. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to hers.

It takes a moment to process. Then Penny's enjoying the feel of his lips on hers and then she realizes it's Sheldon and she's throwing herself back in a graceless way no Cheesecake Factory waitress would be proud of.

"What the hell, Sheldon?!" she shrieks, pressing back against the other side of the couch. He doesn't look rebuffed at all. He looks almost normal (hah!) again, his calculating expression indicating he's somewhere around Venus, mentally.

"SHELDON!"

"I won't apologize, Penny, if that is the response you are expecting from raising your voice to such a decibal," he says coolly, appearing to be returing to Earth. "I was conducting an experiment."

She curses at him.

"My observation of The Sims 3 has led to a preliminary finding that we are emotionally, as well as sexually, compatible. More testing must continue to reach any solid conclusion, but indeed I found this session very enjoyable. Are you amenable?"

"You're getting relationship advice from The Sims 3?!"

"While admittedly simplistic, I believe the human interactions must be based on at least a modicum of truth."

With that, Penny gets up and walks out.

She wanders back across the hall (this wanderer really is lost). She opens her door, enters, shuts it, resolves to shut this image out of her brain. She takes her mental pink eraser and imagines the past few minutes scrubbed away; white. Pure, innocent, lovely, calming, normal, white. She mentally wipes away the eraser dust.

Apparently, her mind draws with Sharpies.