It was probably for the best, because Tara did look pretty damn annoyed, stomping into the kitchen.

Except, of course, it wasn't Tara. The long, wavy hair was pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, there were big glasses that hadn't been there all weekend, and there was no neo-hippie dress, just loose jeans with a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and a pair of clunky combat boots.

"What's going on, Buck?" Kate asked, eyeing him just a little warily. He wasn't a rare sight, by any means, but... It was reflex.

"The printer doohickey is jammed," Buck grumbled, in his low Southern drawl, opening a drawer and pawing through it for his pack of smokes. "Age of technology, my ass."