Snow swirled softly outside the windows of the Brownstone in New York City. A warm glow emanated from the paned windows. If one dared to cast eyes in from across the street, they would be greeted by a crackling fire dancing in the hearth. A knotted Persian rug sprawled out on most of the sitting room and the walls were lined with an extensive book collection. A few floor lamps strategically placed near overstuffed armchairs glowed quietly to illuminate two figures reading intensely. On one side, a well kempt man with a husky frame sat ensconced in his sweater vest and corduroys while holding a book open between the fingers of one hand. A pen in the other hand jotted notes on a note pad balanced on his thigh. Mountains of books and looseleaf papers spilled out around his chair. He was careful to sit furthest from the fire lest his research go up in smoke along with his house. The other individual in the room sat buried in his armchair across the room and close to the fire. He was slight in build and small of frame and the armchair appeared to be consuming him as a last meal. He was intently reading a newspaper and his boney knuckles and knees accented his posture in the chair. Soft music drifted out of the old cathedral radio from its recessed shelf near the doorway.

Daniel Dreidberg was trying desperately to catch up on his research paper. He was becoming frustrated by his resources and was becoming more and more resigned to the possibility of having to plan some fieldwork. Being a prominent ornithologist was complicated when you led a double life as a masked vigilante. Many of the books that teetered around his chair were borrowed from the university but he was quickly approaching the limits to most of the known research and needed some first hand observations. He was cramming his work in between the nights that he and Rorschach had off. He sighed in frustration as he closed the book and laid it atop the pile. He took off his glasses, rubbed his tired eyes, and relaxed back into his chair as he considered his friend on the other side of the room. Dan was glad that Walter finally swallowed his pride and moved in with him in the Brownstone. He didn't have to worry about him freezing to death on nights like this and he was positive that Walter was now getting at least 3 squares. The truth of the matter was that Dan really enjoyed his company and now the old house didn't feel so empty. HE didn't feel so empty.

The radio had been playing the news, which Dan found depressing but Walter had insisted on listening. Both had become enveloped in their reading enough not to notice that the broadcast had long since been over. Now, taking a breather, Dan listened curiously. It appeared the disk jockey favored soul and Dan leaned complacently back in his chair to listen to the drifting music and crackling fire. As a catchy little tune drifted in, a slight bit of motion caught Dan's eye. He focused through his glasses and his mouth almost dropped open from shock. He was careful not to move a muscle from his current position or make a sound. Observation and fieldwork (both in bird observation and criminal observation) taught him stealth when observing creatures that would otherwise run if they caught you spying behavior that is normally hidden from view.

Dan watched as Walter's shoe ever so faintly tapped with the beat of the music. Dan didn't think Walter listened to music much less enjoyed it. Dan didn't move the entire song and at one point Walter shifted to turn the page of his newspaper. He stopped and cast an eye in Dan's direction when he caught Dan staring at him. He wrinkled his brow. "What?"

Dan jumped from the shock of being found out. "Uh, nothing! Nothing! Uh, listen, man, I'm hungry. You, uh, you want something while I'm in the kitchen?"

Walter stared at Dan for what seemed like forever and Dan was afraid that Walter might call him out on his "covert" observation. But he was relieved to find Walter was simply considering his offer in his usual "weigh-all-the-possibilities" type style when he said, "Like what?"

"I don't know." said Dan as he rose to his feet. "Let's see what we have left over." and Walter followed. Whew! Dan thought. Good recovery. The thought occurred to Dan that perhaps Walter's keeping of the rhythm was unconscious. He wondered sometimes at his partner's ability to anticipate circumstances in combat. It's almost like he knows where a punch will land before the offensive is even set up. Still, the thought nagged him, Rorschach calculates everything. Maybe he's more human than I give him credit for. Maybe he just won't admit to having a preference for music.