<span style="color: #FF8000">“Thank you Sarah,”</span>Blake said dismissively.  The agent lingered, making brief eye contact with them both.  She gave a small smile and turned.  Her heels clicked all the way up the stairs.  Somehow, he got the feeling that she wasn’t pleased by his presence, though she seemed quite fine with Cassandra.  He returned his attention to the wine bottle, turning it in his palms and reading the label.  It was faded, but he could make out the 1946 Bordeaux, and he whistled.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">“Why on earth would someone leave this down here?”</span>he mused aloud.  He placed it back on the lattice, then exited the bunker room and stood next to Cassandra, peering around the basement.  There really wasn’t a whole lot to see down here, but that just made it a great place for storage, or whatever it was they used it for.  Maybe they were being more skeptical of this place than they needed to be.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FF8000">“So, any more theories, or are we just trying to squeeze water from a stone?”</span>he asked her,<span style="color: #FF8000">“You know, I think this may be the right house for us.  We can still hire an inspection service, if you want to, but can you really beat a downstairs bar?”</span>He grinned down, his honey eyes lighting up in the charming smile he reserved only for her.  It subsided a moment as he added,<span style="color: #FF8000">“I hope you were joking about the bed.”</span>They'd gone through some ups and downs in their marriage, but ultimately it remained a healthy relationship throughout.  Despite that, he wouldn't put it past her to ban him from the bedroom.  He'd already been kicked out of the kitchen too many times to count.