"You think the Boss has lost it?" The goon standing behind the door leaned forward and hissed into the ear of his counterpart, so as not to be overheard.

The guard in the doorway glanced over his shoulder, then shook his head. "Whatever makes her happy, right? Don't question it. Not where she can hear anyway. Or she might get mad."

"Yeah." The first goon shuddered. "And we all know what happens when the boss gets mad."

But Leblanc either hadn't heard or didn't care; her complete attention was focused on the object of all her desires. She sank down to the edge of the bed with a sigh of contentment. "Isn't he magnificent?"

The third goon in the room, a young woman who had joined the Syndicate only a few days ago, threw a helpless glance toward the men in the door, looking for some clue as to the proper reaction. The door guard nodded frantically; the girl relaxed, and decided to answer with the truth. "Oh yes, Boss. I've never seen anything quite like him."

Leblanc sighed again, then rose to her feet and, taking three steps forward, flung herself at the bronze sculpture and planted a kiss on its cheek. "It's just like my Noojie-Woojie. And you'll see. The real thing will be here soon enough. He'll never be able to resist."