Subtle, sweet and totally overrated.

As Will entered the office, he was hugging a newspaper to his chest, as if it were a treasured possession. “Have you seen the advertisements for that new perfume, Trebuchet?” he said, excitedly.

Chris arched an eyebrow at him. “Trebuchet?” he repeated. “They’re naming perfumes after siege engines now?” It was possible they’d just liked the sound of the name. He could remember an incident like that with the name for a pair of ladies’ sneakers.

“Who cares?” Will said. He held up the advertisement for them to see.

The image took up almost a quarter of the page. It showed Maeve Sweetin from the shoulders up. There were three captions. One read, “Knock your man dead, with Trebuchet.” Chris was pleased that they seemed to realize what they’d named the perfume after.

The second caption read, “The subtle, sweet fragrance of Trebuchet will attract the attention of any man.” As Chris read the third, his cheeks darkened faintly. In quotes, meaning that the model was saying the phrase, it read, “It’s the only thing I wear.”

“That perfume’s not worth the cost,” Morgan said, from her desk. She shook her head. “It’s nice, but it’s not the most amazing scent of the season.”

“Who cares about the perfume?” Will said. “The advertisements have a naked Maeve Sweetin!”

“You can’t see anything,” Chris squawked. The image cut off just low enough to show a bit of cleavage. He sighed and then shook his head. “That’s Ezra’s mother!”

Will looked up, his eyes bright with glee. “Think I could get him to ask his mother to sign it for me?” he asked.

“When the sanctified dead rise from their graves,” Ezra replied, from the doorway, “I will consider it.”

Devin chuckled. “I’m thinking no, Will,” he said.

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