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Edgar Reade arrives home after a fairly un-eventful day
at the NY FBI headquarters. As he enters his abode, he can hear
the joyous (to him) sounds of his small family coming from the kitchen.

As he enters, Mother and Daughter call out, nearly in unison, "Weeeed!,
laughing hysterically after doing so. After planting numerous kisses upon his
curly headed first-born's, face, arms, head-really, any and all uncovered areas
of skin that he can find, he turns to Tasha, sitting close by.

Immediately upon kissing her Reade can tell, quite easily, that something
is up with his Partner.

"Oy...que te pasa, Bella? Paso algo con la Doctora?"

"La pinche receptionista racista me dijo que el nombre de
Princesa no puede ser Reade-Zapata, que en los Estados Unidos,
uno tiene solo un apellido....tu sabes que me arranque asi," she
finishes, snapping her fingers to how fast the situation had caused her upset.

"Pinche!", says Nat, brightly, her mouth smeared with applesauce.
Pinche!", she says, again.

"Oiga; no sea mal hablada, Usted," chides her Mother. "Anyway,
she continues with Reade, "She's pushing-back about there and everywhere,
and getting more frustrated by the second, until the Supervisor came out."

"And so the Supervisor solved the issue?," Reade asks.

"It took her ten minutes to get the idiot to acknowledge that Nat's birth
name is consistent with her SSN card...even then she ended up sending
her home, por terca!"

"Tash...we have both been dealing with this type of s-h-i-t (he
spells the word out, so as no to encourage Nat to repeat it), all of
our lives, and with things as they are, some of these a-holes are more
and more emboldened by the signals coming out of D.C. And, just as
we always have, we won't allow it to take us outside of our lane, or
steal our joy...correct?"

"Correct. I'm good now, Baby. Cenamos?"

"Pues si."