They were handy to have around, Nate's little gang. They were that wonderful combination of talented and noble. The former was useful, while the latter made it so incredibly easy to poke them with a metaphorical stick.

Needle in a haystack's easy - just bring a magnet."Eliot stared witheringly at Hardison. "You take the poetry out of everything.""Says the man who'd just punch the haystack.

What is that *smell*?"Eliot shook his head. "I keep telling you, it's fresh air.

I can follow pretty much every programming language out there, I can make a two-hundred-year-old diary out of some really nasty ingredients, I can even make sense out of the instruction booklets that come with IKEA furniture, but I can*not* make heads or tails of this nonsense right here.