Peter sighed. "Straight my ass. It is the Hope Diamond. Only you would be crazy or stupid enough to try to steal that. Only you would be the one to ask. " If it was true and he had gone straight, he knew he would feel awful about it. Later. His shoulders slumped and he sagged a little. "Yeah, you haven't been here. Kramer launched an investigation into El and I. It was invasive. We had no privacy. They tailed me. They tapped us. All to find you. Not that it worked. Finally Hughes ordered the plug pulled. " If he looked close enough, he might see a few lines or gray hairs.
He would never blame Neal. It wasn't his fault. He was just too good. Hell, Peter hated working without him. "I never thought I would see you again." His eyes and voice softened as he gazed at Neal. He sure didn't plan a reunion like this.
"Neal..." He almost hugged him. Almost. "Don't do this. You are better than this, Neal." His voice was gentle as he pleaded with his former partner. "He had a lot to tell Neal. Like where he was working.
"Neal... When you are done here, join me for lunch?"
Neal had his moments where he could be blunt too. At first, he was fixed on ignoring the insistence that he was intent on stealing the diamond. Focusing on the news of Peter leaving the FBI and the gory details, he couldn't help but make a face. The Burkes didn't deserve that, they weren't criminals.
Eventually though, he couldn't ignore Peter's pleading. Ever the con, he had to twist his sincerity derived from concern into a 'sincere' insistence that he was legitimate.
"Peter. I swear it. If I was going to steal it I could have done it a dozen times by now."
A pause.
Mozzie was really, really going to kill him for his next response.
"Sure. Give me about an hour? There's a place seven blocks down and three blocks west of here called Ponzio's? Meet there."
Peter shook his head. At least Neal cared enough to ask? "Because they all thought I was too close to you. They wanted me to take some time off. I could be reinstated after a duration period." He shrugged his shoulders. "It was a bit of a mess. I wish... I wished you were here to talk to." No, they weren't criminals, but he had been. And because they had cared for him, they were marked.
"Then you won't mind if I hang around the next few days and watch you work." He raised an eyebrow at Neal. If Neal was trying something, having him around and watching would mess with his head. "Neal, I want to believe you. I do." He meant it. He really did want to believe in Neal. His case wasn't very compelling, though.
He smiled. This time, he did step up and give Neal A hug. "Great, I'll head over that way now. I've been wanting to try that place actually." He really had missed Neal a lot. He pulled away and looked around the room one more time. "I'll see you soon."
There was a moment's sincerity again, where pain flashed across Neal's carefully controlled countenance as he described the whole fiasco. The pain spiked visibly when Peter mentioned wishing they could have talked. More than once, Neal had turned any number of burn phones over in his hands and considered dialing the Burke home number. Every time that look was shining in his eyes, Moz would remind him it would put all of them at risk. Granted Moz was hoping that would be what was enough to keep their asses safe more than mister and missus suit but, well, same ultimate effect right?
"Sure, watch away. Not that I can really fathom a reason someone not with the FBI would have to be about the back rooms where we handle things like that but..."
Nonchalant. Make it sound like Peter was the one being weird now. Really, who'd let in just any old person to such a diamond?
Letting it lie at that, he nodded compliance. The hug was sort of awkward for Neal, but only because he'd been that way with some of Peter's more friendly tendancies in the past. No one got close to Neal Caffrey, it was safer that way. Watching Kate's plane blow up only solidified his resolve in that department. So it was returned but in that funny sort of half pat, half hug thing folks who are caught off guard will offer back.
When he pulls away, it's unclear if its Peter's presence, the hug, or something else entirely but boy does Neal look shaken. Effect achieved Burke, congratulations.
He was sure he felt it, felt Neal not hugging him back. Well, Neal didn't contact him right away either. Maybe he was fooling himself that Neal would actually care about him in that way. They weren't friends. He was just a guy the FBI used and protected. As much as he tried to tell himself that, he didn't buy it. He thought of Neal as one of his close friends. A friend he hadn't seen in a long time.
Before he said or did something he regretted, he exited the Met and made his way down to the restaurant. It wasn't that far from the Met. He could walk there and be there soon. Plus, it gave him time to think about Neal. Heading outside, he began the lonely walk to the restaurant. He wondered what Neal would do when this job was over. Con or no con, Neal had to do something. He couldn't just hide for the rest of his life, could he?
Finally making his way inside, he sat at the bar and ordered a cold beer. He would wait at the bar and see if Neal actually showed up. A part of him hoped that he did.
The look in Peter's face as he left the museum pulled on Neal's heart. It didn't show but it hurt to see his friend in such a state. Knowing he'd lost close to everything and Neal couldn't even give him a hug? That only served to make the conman feel lower than he had when he'd realized it was Peter looking over his shoulder at the diamond's soon-to-be resting place.
Groaning, he shook off the feeling, slipped into character, and was Michael Stanton until it was appropriate for him to leave. He'd gotten caught up for about twenty minutes, given a whole host of things to 'keep in mind' for the next few days while the display was actively on. No talking to people about his work, no detailing his job, etc. Never knew who could be trying to con their way in!
Riiiiight.
Swallowing the ironic cautions, he listened like a dutiful employee and finally made his escape. Running was attention he didn't need so he kept his pace calm and liesurely until he'd arrived at the restaurant. The nearly empty beer he could see around Peter's left shoulder was indicator enough that his lateness had almost certainly been noticed.
"You always have the worst taste in alcohol," Neal complains, pulling up a seat beside Peter and ordering himself a glass of chianti.
Peter looked up at Neal, smiling warmly at him. "And I have told you many times that there is nothing wrong with beer." He raised his bottle and finished the beer that he had, sliding the bottle over to the bartender. "Put his on my tab." He had been watching the door, wondering if Neal was going to show up or not. Oh yes, his mind went there. He had thought Neal was going to blow him off. Seeing him come through that door assuaged some of his feelings.
"Hey Michael," he said with a smirk. He looked around the restaurant, then back to Neal. He had so much he wanted to ask Neal about. And he had so much that he wanted tell Neal about. He still had not told Neal where he was working now or the things that he missed. He really did have a hard time. During all of it, he had thought that at least Neal was in a good place. Even El had missed him a bit.
Peter shook his head, looking up at Neal. "We can have a table anytime we're ready. I spoke to them and it's all sorted." He ordered another beer from the bartender. He knew that he had to try to talk Neal into staying honest. He would have to keep his steps gentle if he was going to talk Neal out of the diamond. A part of him also wanted to ask where Mozzie was.
"Don't start," Neal says, waving a hand at the 'Michael' bit dismissively. "I needed something new and, well, play to one of my strengths seemed the way to go about it."
To add to his bullshit, he almost seemed annoyed by it all. Hopefully he could keep selling the line and Peter would just get on with believing him.
This was such a bad idea. The last time they played this game people got hurt, and some really bad decisions were made. Learning nothing, apparently, he continued with the charade. Anything to finally talk to Peter. See his face and hear El's name and they were at least okay. Maybe more with all that Peter paying the tab action.
Right then, despite the funny suit, he was all Neal when he began explaining the wine with a grin.
"Chianti is a red Italian wine, well, actually a specific blend of three. It's the one with the funny shape that comes in a basket?"
He was about to ask so many questions in return that it was almost going to seem like a diversion attempt. It wasn't. It's Neal and he notices everything when he's looking for it.
"You're feeling awfully generous for a man who lost his job."
"Stopping." He smiled and sipped his beer. "Well, for a man who isn't working with the FBI, I am not sure I want to know where you got your money." He laughed and eyed Neal up and down. "Oh, right, the Smithsonian. They're paying the bill. Forgot about that." As he began to tell all about the wonderful world of Chianti, Peter rolled his eyes.
"I know which one is Chianti. I have had it before." He takes another sip of his beer. "It tastes really good with spaghetti and meatballs. And those drippy candles. Though, this restaurant isn't Italian... You sure that's what you want," he teased.
"Oh, I didn't say I lost my job. I said I wasn't working for the FBI anymore." The corners of his lips turned up in a smirk and he gazed over at Neal. There was a light in his eyes as he spoke, a small hint of mischief. Having Neal back beside him had made him feel so much better. "I have a new job. One that pays pretty well. And guess what, it's an honest one," he kidded.
"Drippy candles?" And his face read Really? at that expression. Before he could help himself, he was smiling instead. This was so familiar and he suddenly realized just how much he was going to miss New York. The smile didn't falter as that thought crossed through, but he did feel that nausea again.
Best to swallow it down with wine.
He managed to be quiet long enough to listen and really watch Peter talk. That look he had? It always used to make him nervous when it was directed his way. Usually, something Neal really wanted to change or skip entirely followed.
"Okay, I'll bite oh holier than thou one with a name not on some Most Wanted list somewhere. Where are you so honestly working?"
Peter smiled and tapped his beer bottle against Neal's glass. That same familiar feeling was back and he loved it. They were bantering again. It was like they had never been separated. "Yes, drippy candles." He shook his head and took a sip of his beer.
If he looked, he might see some subtle differences that weren't there before. He was still Peter, but he wasn't. If Neal really looked, he'd see see a few extra lines around his eyes that weren't there before. A hint of his hair going gray above the ears. The things going on recently in his life had affected him a little. Even if Peter was trying hard to push through and smile, there were things Neal would pick up.
"I..." He hesitated. "I wasn't sure what I was going to do. Hughes did say that I could come back eventually, but it left a foul taste in my mouth. It really hurt that this bureau that I loved was treating me the way that it was. Other than Diana and Jones, I felt like I didn't fit anymore." He remembered the day like it was yesterday. "Word must get around though. I received a call from Sara. We went out to lunch and she offered me a job with Sterling Bosch."
Neal noticed it all and the nausea only worsened. His friend looked like he'd seen three years on his account. He really hated the Feds then. More than his usual contempt, Neal was having a serious problem with, as Peter had so eloquently said, the bureau betraying their best agent. None of the rest had ever managed to catch him.
Peter, in theory, had done it again even if he wasn't going to act on the actual chance of an arrest. There was no contest in Neal's mind.
"Hughes and the FBI are fools for letting you go." He said honestly. "And for--"
Okay Peter had said something again that threw his head for a loop. It wasn't often people could make Neal lose his eloquence but Peter sometimes had a knack for it. Registering that last bit, both Sara and the subsequent Peter going to the dark side. Those people wanted him as badly as the Feds had. Neal didn't look entirely thrilled.
"Okay that's a serious pay increase more than 'pays the rent' Peter."
"It happens, Neal. Not everything that we think about in life is a constant. Change always happens. I didn't think that the FBI would be that way. I thought I would be there forever, but change will occur. For me, it was at the FBI." He sighed, drumming his fingers against his beer bottle.
Peter paused, struggling for the words that he wanted to say. When he had first gotten the call from Sara, he thought it was just lunch. When they met, it became more than that. The money that they saved her boss on that last job had endeared Peter to him. He admired everything Peter and Neal had done for the company and wanted to repay him.
"Sara had told him what was going on and really went to bat for me. She explained what a great investigator I was and what my success rate at the FBI had become. She informed him that the money I saved the company was just a start to what I could do for them. She really sold me to him and got a nice job offer for me." He took a sip of his beer, thinking it over.
"I don't care about the money, Neal. It's nice, but money isn't everything. I see it as I'm still getting to do what I love. I help people. I solve crimes. I get art or other things back for clients. It's not exactly the same, but it helps. I'm not sitting around and moping because I don't have a job." He smiled at Neal, tilting his head to the side. "It's not the end of the world, Neal. I can't arrest you, even if I wanted to. Which is why I'm pleading with you. Please, don't steal that diamond."
In that way, the difference in their ages showed. However old Neal was, he was apparently not old enough to handle change well. For a man who spent his life changing everything from his to his shoes, accepting that Peter had 'moved on' from the FBI was hard. In a selfish sense it meant that if he screwed up, even a little, he was done for. The FBI would probably put him in for life, or at least for all that time that he should have been in prison while helping Peter. This time? There was no Agent Burke to swoop in and save the day.
Something must have been registering because he managed to be quiet through every thing the other man had to say. There were appropriate nods and all that but apparently he was considering at least some part of what his friend was saying. No, it wasn't the end of the world but... Sterling and Bosch? Really? Couldn't he have found anyone else that didn't categorically hate Neal Caffrey to work for?
Sigh.
"I'm not here to steal it Peter. How arrogant do you think I am?"
In a way, maybe Peter didn't want to move on from the FBI. Maybe he was deluding himself. If Hughes called him today and offered him his job back, would he say no? He couldn't answer that question with certainty. And yes, Neal was a part of that decision. He hated thinking that if Neal stole that diamond, there was no way out for him. No leverage anymore. Maybe that was why he was pleading so hard, trying so much to get Neal to not pull the job. He couldn't be Neal's hero anymore.
For Peter, he really didn't have many options. He wasn't young. He wasn't an up and comer in the business world. He knew crimes. And not many would give him a job after he left the FBI. Especially with the circumstances on why he left. Sterling and Bosche had been his last hope. If he had his choice, he would rather go back to the FBI. His dream would be to return, bring Neal with him, and get Neal his freedom.
Sigh.
"Very." He raised an eyebrow at Neal, a smug look on his face. Neal could say until he was blue in the face that he wasn't there to steal it. Peter didn't believe him. "Sure. Tell Moz I said hi. Or is it Haversham?" He sighed, looking down at his watch. He had all day, but he doubted Neal did. He'd have to get back to his 'team' soon. If he didn't eat soon, his stomach was going to start making noises.
"Neal, I would go back to the FBI in a heartbeat if I could. I would want things to go back to the way they were, but it can't happen like that. Not unless we got to Kramer somehow." Now that was a con he'd love to do. He really wanted to stick it to Kramer. "Hell, Neal. I miss you. The stupid hats and going for coffee." He missed more than just that, not like he'd admit it.
The thought that he and Peter might never associate again, even in passing, if he stole that diamond was almost more than Neal could stomach. Some part of him had always assumed if one of his cons went horribly awry that Peter would be there. He'd fix it smooth it over, or do something else suit-y to give Neal the shot at going straight he'd always tried to provide. Not to mention, in all honesty, he missed his life in New York. He missed that view, June's singing, and yes even the crummy coffee that Peter was reminiscing about.
"I miss those hats too you know. The whole elbow pad thing?" Neal holds up an arm. "It's not working for me."
Okay he missed Peter too, immensely, but Neal never was good at communicating honest feelings.
"Haversham? I think that name died the moment he left New York. I haven't heard from him since it all went down."
God he felt like such a prick. Lying, even now, just came so much easier. Soon enough he was going to have to depart, but not to go back to his team. No, Neal needed to dump cold water over his face, grasp a sink's edge, and try to, well, get a grip. This was not how he intended the first two hours of the con to go. But now, more than ever, he needed this con. There was nothing left for him in New York if Peter couldn't, as always, make the mess go away.
His shoulders slumped and he sagged a little. "Yeah, you haven't been here. Kramer launched an investigation into El and I. It was invasive. We had no privacy. They tailed me. They tapped us. All to find you. Not that it worked. Finally Hughes ordered the plug pulled. " If he looked close enough, he might see a few lines or gray hairs.
He would never blame Neal. It wasn't his fault. He was just too good. Hell, Peter hated working without him. "I never thought I would see you again." His eyes and voice softened as he gazed at Neal. He sure didn't plan a reunion like this.
"Neal..." He almost hugged him. Almost. "Don't do this. You are better than this, Neal." His voice was gentle as he pleaded with his former partner. "He had a lot to tell Neal. Like where he was working.
"Neal... When you are done here, join me for lunch?"
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Neal had his moments where he could be blunt too. At first, he was fixed on ignoring the insistence that he was intent on stealing the diamond. Focusing on the news of Peter leaving the FBI and the gory details, he couldn't help but make a face. The Burkes didn't deserve that, they weren't criminals.
Eventually though, he couldn't ignore Peter's pleading. Ever the con, he had to twist his sincerity derived from concern into a 'sincere' insistence that he was legitimate.
"Peter. I swear it. If I was going to steal it I could have done it a dozen times by now."
A pause.
Mozzie was really, really going to kill him for his next response.
"Sure. Give me about an hour? There's a place seven blocks down and three blocks west of here called Ponzio's? Meet there."
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"Then you won't mind if I hang around the next few days and watch you work." He raised an eyebrow at Neal. If Neal was trying something, having him around and watching would mess with his head. "Neal, I want to believe you. I do." He meant it. He really did want to believe in Neal. His case wasn't very compelling, though.
He smiled. This time, he did step up and give Neal A hug. "Great, I'll head over that way now. I've been wanting to try that place actually." He really had missed Neal a lot. He pulled away and looked around the room one more time. "I'll see you soon."
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"Sure, watch away. Not that I can really fathom a reason someone not with the FBI would have to be about the back rooms where we handle things like that but..."
Nonchalant. Make it sound like Peter was the one being weird now. Really, who'd let in just any old person to such a diamond?
Letting it lie at that, he nodded compliance. The hug was sort of awkward for Neal, but only because he'd been that way with some of Peter's more friendly tendancies in the past. No one got close to Neal Caffrey, it was safer that way. Watching Kate's plane blow up only solidified his resolve in that department. So it was returned but in that funny sort of half pat, half hug thing folks who are caught off guard will offer back.
When he pulls away, it's unclear if its Peter's presence, the hug, or something else entirely but boy does Neal look shaken. Effect achieved Burke, congratulations.
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He was sure he felt it, felt Neal not hugging him back. Well, Neal didn't contact him right away either. Maybe he was fooling himself that Neal would actually care about him in that way. They weren't friends. He was just a guy the FBI used and protected. As much as he tried to tell himself that, he didn't buy it. He thought of Neal as one of his close friends. A friend he hadn't seen in a long time.
Before he said or did something he regretted, he exited the Met and made his way down to the restaurant. It wasn't that far from the Met. He could walk there and be there soon. Plus, it gave him time to think about Neal. Heading outside, he began the lonely walk to the restaurant. He wondered what Neal would do when this job was over. Con or no con, Neal had to do something. He couldn't just hide for the rest of his life, could he?
Finally making his way inside, he sat at the bar and ordered a cold beer. He would wait at the bar and see if Neal actually showed up. A part of him hoped that he did.
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Groaning, he shook off the feeling, slipped into character, and was Michael Stanton until it was appropriate for him to leave. He'd gotten caught up for about twenty minutes, given a whole host of things to 'keep in mind' for the next few days while the display was actively on. No talking to people about his work, no detailing his job, etc. Never knew who could be trying to con their way in!
Riiiiight.
Swallowing the ironic cautions, he listened like a dutiful employee and finally made his escape. Running was attention he didn't need so he kept his pace calm and liesurely until he'd arrived at the restaurant. The nearly empty beer he could see around Peter's left shoulder was indicator enough that his lateness had almost certainly been noticed.
"You always have the worst taste in alcohol," Neal complains, pulling up a seat beside Peter and ordering himself a glass of chianti.
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Peter looked up at Neal, smiling warmly at him. "And I have told you many times that there is nothing wrong with beer." He raised his bottle and finished the beer that he had, sliding the bottle over to the bartender. "Put his on my tab." He had been watching the door, wondering if Neal was going to show up or not. Oh yes, his mind went there. He had thought Neal was going to blow him off. Seeing him come through that door assuaged some of his feelings.
"Hey Michael," he said with a smirk. He looked around the restaurant, then back to Neal. He had so much he wanted to ask Neal about. And he had so much that he wanted tell Neal about. He still had not told Neal where he was working now or the things that he missed. He really did have a hard time. During all of it, he had thought that at least Neal was in a good place. Even El had missed him a bit.
Peter shook his head, looking up at Neal. "We can have a table anytime we're ready. I spoke to them and it's all sorted." He ordered another beer from the bartender. He knew that he had to try to talk Neal into staying honest. He would have to keep his steps gentle if he was going to talk Neal out of the diamond. A part of him also wanted to ask where Mozzie was.
"What is Chianti anyway?"
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To add to his bullshit, he almost seemed annoyed by it all. Hopefully he could keep selling the line and Peter would just get on with believing him.
This was such a bad idea. The last time they played this game people got hurt, and some really bad decisions were made. Learning nothing, apparently, he continued with the charade. Anything to finally talk to Peter. See his face and hear El's name and they were at least okay. Maybe more with all that Peter paying the tab action.
Right then, despite the funny suit, he was all Neal when he began explaining the wine with a grin.
"Chianti is a red Italian wine, well, actually a specific blend of three. It's the one with the funny shape that comes in a basket?"
He was about to ask so many questions in return that it was almost going to seem like a diversion attempt. It wasn't. It's Neal and he notices everything when he's looking for it.
"You're feeling awfully generous for a man who lost his job."
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"I know which one is Chianti. I have had it before." He takes another sip of his beer. "It tastes really good with spaghetti and meatballs. And those drippy candles. Though, this restaurant isn't Italian... You sure that's what you want," he teased.
"Oh, I didn't say I lost my job. I said I wasn't working for the FBI anymore." The corners of his lips turned up in a smirk and he gazed over at Neal. There was a light in his eyes as he spoke, a small hint of mischief. Having Neal back beside him had made him feel so much better. "I have a new job. One that pays pretty well. And guess what, it's an honest one," he kidded.
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Best to swallow it down with wine.
He managed to be quiet long enough to listen and really watch Peter talk. That look he had? It always used to make him nervous when it was directed his way. Usually, something Neal really wanted to change or skip entirely followed.
"Okay, I'll bite oh holier than thou one with a name not on some Most Wanted list somewhere. Where are you so honestly working?"
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If he looked, he might see some subtle differences that weren't there before. He was still Peter, but he wasn't. If Neal really looked, he'd see see a few extra lines around his eyes that weren't there before. A hint of his hair going gray above the ears. The things going on recently in his life had affected him a little. Even if Peter was trying hard to push through and smile, there were things Neal would pick up.
"I..." He hesitated. "I wasn't sure what I was going to do. Hughes did say that I could come back eventually, but it left a foul taste in my mouth. It really hurt that this bureau that I loved was treating me the way that it was. Other than Diana and Jones, I felt like I didn't fit anymore." He remembered the day like it was yesterday. "Word must get around though. I received a call from Sara. We went out to lunch and she offered me a job with Sterling Bosch."
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Peter, in theory, had done it again even if he wasn't going to act on the actual chance of an arrest. There was no contest in Neal's mind.
"Hughes and the FBI are fools for letting you go." He said honestly. "And for--"
Okay Peter had said something again that threw his head for a loop. It wasn't often people could make Neal lose his eloquence but Peter sometimes had a knack for it. Registering that last bit, both Sara and the subsequent Peter going to the dark side. Those people wanted him as badly as the Feds had. Neal didn't look entirely thrilled.
"Okay that's a serious pay increase more than 'pays the rent' Peter."
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Peter paused, struggling for the words that he wanted to say. When he had first gotten the call from Sara, he thought it was just lunch. When they met, it became more than that. The money that they saved her boss on that last job had endeared Peter to him. He admired everything Peter and Neal had done for the company and wanted to repay him.
"Sara had told him what was going on and really went to bat for me. She explained what a great investigator I was and what my success rate at the FBI had become. She informed him that the money I saved the company was just a start to what I could do for them. She really sold me to him and got a nice job offer for me." He took a sip of his beer, thinking it over.
"I don't care about the money, Neal. It's nice, but money isn't everything. I see it as I'm still getting to do what I love. I help people. I solve crimes. I get art or other things back for clients. It's not exactly the same, but it helps. I'm not sitting around and moping because I don't have a job." He smiled at Neal, tilting his head to the side. "It's not the end of the world, Neal. I can't arrest you, even if I wanted to. Which is why I'm pleading with you. Please, don't steal that diamond."
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Something must have been registering because he managed to be quiet through every thing the other man had to say. There were appropriate nods and all that but apparently he was considering at least some part of what his friend was saying. No, it wasn't the end of the world but... Sterling and Bosch? Really? Couldn't he have found anyone else that didn't categorically hate Neal Caffrey to work for?
Sigh.
"I'm not here to steal it Peter. How arrogant do you think I am?"
Short answer. Very.
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For Peter, he really didn't have many options. He wasn't young. He wasn't an up and comer in the business world. He knew crimes. And not many would give him a job after he left the FBI. Especially with the circumstances on why he left. Sterling and Bosche had been his last hope. If he had his choice, he would rather go back to the FBI. His dream would be to return, bring Neal with him, and get Neal his freedom.
Sigh.
"Very." He raised an eyebrow at Neal, a smug look on his face. Neal could say until he was blue in the face that he wasn't there to steal it. Peter didn't believe him. "Sure. Tell Moz I said hi. Or is it Haversham?" He sighed, looking down at his watch. He had all day, but he doubted Neal did. He'd have to get back to his 'team' soon. If he didn't eat soon, his stomach was going to start making noises.
"Neal, I would go back to the FBI in a heartbeat if I could. I would want things to go back to the way they were, but it can't happen like that. Not unless we got to Kramer somehow." Now that was a con he'd love to do. He really wanted to stick it to Kramer. "Hell, Neal. I miss you. The stupid hats and going for coffee." He missed more than just that, not like he'd admit it.
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"I miss those hats too you know. The whole elbow pad thing?" Neal holds up an arm. "It's not working for me."
Okay he missed Peter too, immensely, but Neal never was good at communicating honest feelings.
"Haversham? I think that name died the moment he left New York. I haven't heard from him since it all went down."
God he felt like such a prick. Lying, even now, just came so much easier. Soon enough he was going to have to depart, but not to go back to his team. No, Neal needed to dump cold water over his face, grasp a sink's edge, and try to, well, get a grip. This was not how he intended the first two hours of the con to go. But now, more than ever, he needed this con. There was nothing left for him in New York if Peter couldn't, as always, make the mess go away.
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