Halloween, John Connor's safehouse, Virginia

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Work had been a breeze. Make that, 'work had been a bit breezy'. He was kilted and woaded, and only had one major meeting. The director was dressed as a French maid so his kilt didn't get much more than a second look.

Kilts were not made for motorcycles and decency laws. Or for getting in or out of a Suburban without violating decency laws, but the 'Burban had a better chance for that. Besides, what with snow coming he'd have to put the bike away for a bit.

He crashed on his recliner and waited for the Trick or Treaters. Or any phone calls.

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"I'll see what I can do," he said with a smirk.