'In my office,' he said.
He was at his desk, dressed in grey sweatpants and a sleeveless grey sweatshirt. A large square bandage was taped to his neck, and his right shoulder was wrapped in heavy gauze and held tight to his body in a canvas sling. I could see his chest was wrapped in tape where the bullet had penetrated the Kevlar vest and splintered a rib.
'I'd get up,' he said, 'but the rib is a killer when I move.'
'No need to get up,' I told him. I moved some papers out of the way, sat my ass on his desk so that I was facing him, and gave him the flowers and the gift box. 'I brought get-well presents.'
He looked into the box. 'Birthday cake?'
'I thought your food pyramid might need some cheering up.'
'It says “Happy Birthday Stanley.”'
'It also isn't your birthday, but I don't see why that should stop us from eating cake. Have you had lunch?'
'No. Ella brought a tray, but I wasn't hungry.'
'Are you hungry now?'
He looked down at my bare legs and little skirt. 'I'm getting there.'
I slid off his desk and went to the kitchen. I prowled around and found some sandwiches and brought them in on the tray along with some forks. I set the tray on his desk and pulled a chair over for myself.
'Things are going to be pretty dull around here with only one Ranger,' I said.
Ranger forked an icing rose off the cake and fed it to me. 'One Ranger is all you'll ever need.'