The mailman shuffled through the hallway when Lorne came out of his office.
"Ok, um, professional opinion? 'Sexy soccer mama' or 'brainy beauty'? You're an aging sexpot and celebrating a decade of turning 29. You got two little rugrats that aren't that little, a husband who thinks the extras trailer is a buffet table, and gravity? It ain't doing you any favors." Lorne held out two greeting cards. "So... 'Happy Birthday, Sexy Mama' or - "
He paused, seeing Fred.
"Fred! Fred, sweetie, you're sorta like a woman..."
"Oh, that's... that's not a compliment," Fred told him.
"Well, I mean, more so than El Cid here. I need some insight. You're an aging - "
"I heard. Don't send a card, don't mention her birthday, send a big bunch of flowers just because she's special and perfect and eternally blah-di-blah," Fred replied, nodding.
"Huh! Staring me right in the face! Genius." Lorne smiled at her.
"And I'm a lot like a woman!" Fred exclaimed.
"Oh, you're all woman. You're every woman. You're Wonder Woman!" Lorne replied, kissing her cheek.
"Damn straight!"