Bartowski Apartment – Kitchen
Ellie stood in front of her brother, arms folded, expression set to "big-sister interrogation mode."
"You've been working at this think tank for months, Chuck, and I still haven't met your boss. Charles Carmichael—the big man himself. If you're really working under him, I want to meet him."
Chuck froze mid-pour with his coffee mug halfway to the counter.
"Uh… well, he's… very private. Doesn't really do the whole social-interaction thing."
"Private or imaginary?"
He forced a nervous laugh. "Totally real! Completely real. I'll… uh… talk to him."
"Dinner. Tomorrow night. No excuses."
As Ellie walked out, Chuck muttered into his cup, "Fantastic. Dinner with a fictional person. What could go wrong?"
Carmichael Industries – R&D Lab
Casey glared across the table as Chuck held up a gleaming latex mask and a slim voice-modulator chip.
"You want me to do what?"
Chuck grinned sheepishly. "Come on, it's brilliant. You wear the mask, use the modulator, and boom—Charles Carmichael shows up for dinner. Five minutes, tops."
"I am not playing your imaginary billionaire," Casey growled.
Sarah leaned against a workbench, arms crossed and amused.
"Think of it as cover maintenance. Ellie's curious. Better you than Chuck trying to fake an accent and a mustache."
Reluctantly, Casey snatched the mask. When he looked in the mirror, the reflection staring back wasn't John Casey anymore.
It was Charles Carmichael.
Salt-and-pepper hair, perfectly combed. A strong jaw softened by a neat mustache. The face had the commanding elegance of Pierce Brosnan and the rugged charm of a young Tom Selleck—equal parts boardroom polish and old-school adventure hero.
Casey's newly modulated voice came out smooth and confident.
"This feels ridiculous."
Chuck beamed. "No, this feels perfect. Pierce-meets-Selleck. You're unstoppable."
Sarah smirked. "Try not to shoot anyone during dinner."
Bartowski Apartment – Dinner
Ellie and Devon had gone all-out: candles lit, wine poured, music soft in the background. Devon bounced with excitement.
"Babe, this is epic. We finally get to meet Chuck's mysterious boss."
The doorbell rang. Chuck opened it to reveal Casey-as-Carmichael—tall, poised, sharp in a charcoal suit. His mustache added that effortless roguish charm, and his eyes carried calm authority.
"Dr. Bartowski," he said smoothly, extending a hand. "It's an honor to finally meet you."
Ellie's mouth dropped open. "Wow… so you're Charles Carmichael."
He inclined his head with practiced grace.
"Indeed. And your brother has been instrumental to our operations. The Think Tank would be lost without him."
Chuck nodded awkwardly. "Uh, thank you, sir. That's… very kind."
Ellie's smile softened as she turned to Chuck. "See? That's what I like to hear."
Devon grinned. "Dude, you look like you could sell me a timeshare and save me from a helicopter crash. Rugged and classy."
Casey's jaw tightened beneath the mask. "Yes. Quite."
Through the meal, Ellie peppered "Mr. Carmichael" with questions about the Think Tank's work. Casey's answers were clipped but convincing; Chuck kept the conversation flowing, desperately steering it away from anything classified. Sarah, pretending to check work emails at the end of the table, hid her laughter behind her glass.
At one point Ellie studied Casey curiously.
"You know… you remind me of someone. Kind of a mix between Pierce Brosnan and Tom Selleck."
Chuck nearly spat out his wine. "Ha! Yeah! Must be the mustache."
Casey's glare could have cracked concrete.
Later – Alley Outside
The second they were clear of the apartment, Casey ripped off the mask and shoved it into Chuck's chest.
"Never. Again."
Sarah was laughing outright now. "Relax, Casey. You made a very convincing boss."
Chuck grinned, relieved. "Ellie totally bought it. You were perfect—like Bond meets Magnum P.I."
Casey growled, voice back to normal. "Next time your sister wants to meet Carmichael, you're the one wearing the mask."
Chuck held up his hands. "Fair enough."
Sarah smirked. "I'll bring popcorn."