Lacey had brought her laptop in to work today for the purpose of obsessively monitoring the NHL trade deadline. That had been pretty much required. But as plans of Lacey's so often did, this one had gone awry very rapidly; it was hard to keep refreshing the sports pages when she kept fielding obnoxious emails from Hank, who was bent on taunting her as much as possible about the Leafs.

Or so she assumed, because A) it was Hank, and B) the Leafs were a good target for it this year. She wasn't really bothering to parse through his incoherent screeds for the actual meaning; she could just automatically feel picked on instead. It was an assumption, but (she thought) a safe one.



Luke's is open, but free of flying pucks.

[OOC: OCD is obsessively refreshing a trade tracker page. Ahem.]