Far, far away from secret keys and flying saucers and interrogations, Lovely Lapinette and the Wabbit hopped along the empty sands. "Not many around," commented Lapinette. "Swept out to sea?" suggested the Wabbit. "Wabbit!" sighed Lapinette. "Must you always lark around and make bad jokes." "I never lark" said the Wabbit, "and jokes belong to the beholder." "You can't behold a joke," giggled Lapinette. "I'm not so sure," said the Wabbit and he wriggled his ears in a manner only he could manage. They strolled for a bit and then Lapinette remembered something. "What did you do with the Ice Mice?" "Probation," said the Wabbit. "That's lenient," said Lapinette. "They're now training to be probation officers," said the Wabbit. "You're a very harsh rabbit," sighed Lapinette. "It's called poetic justice," said the Wabbit. They hopped a little further down the beach. "I did hear from the Department about a new mission," whispered Lapinette. The Wabbit's eyes brightened. "But it's very hush-hush," she added. "Better not tell me then," laughed the Wabbit.
