White Collar - as an unofficial novel - part 4

Dan

"Yep."

"You shoot anybody?" he whispered like the gun could go off if he talked too loud about it. "Shoot?"

"I've come close a few times," Peter assured him and caught up with the kid. "Hey, we gotta move this along."

"Are you not standing in the same space I am?" he got in return. "Peter, it could be anything. All of this is valuable and completely incoherent." He made a gesture towards his head to show what he thought of the man's taste of valuable items as the only measure.

"Wanna see the rest of the place?" Dan asked, already moving towards the staircase.

"No, I really don't," Neal whispered so barely Peter could hear him and made a gesture with his head towards the exit.

"But we have to," Peter replied in the same way and added in a more normal voice. "Let's go, Moriarty."

He pulled an unwilling Neal along towards the stairs. Peter was totally amused that Neal made more resistance going through a house full of valuables than being cuffed and arrested.

"Yeah, that would be great," he replied to Dan's invite.

"Awesome!" Dan was thrilled and rushed up the stairs ahead of them. "I got four floors. Let's start at the top."

Peter had to give Neal another push to prevent him from returning down the stairs.

That night Neal sat alone in his apartment on the sofa, reading a book where the amber music box was described and complimented with a pen drawing. He heard Peter down the stairs and put the book under the cushion where he sat. He grabbed another book on the table and Peter entered.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Peter was sweaty from exercising. Considering the basketball he had probably found a place to chase it all by himself.

"You want a beer?" Peter asked.

"Oh, we don't have any beer," Neal said. Last night Peter had even drunk the two he had had of Jones' favorite brand.

"Oh, I got some," Peter said and swung the door to the fridge open. "I got us a whole case."

Neal stared. Was it not expected that you asked before you placed something in someone else's fridge? And Peter had bought a label in a can not a bottle. Neal disapproved of cans. It was something about them that made him associate them with drunkards.

The next shock came when Peter sat down next to him on the sofa.

"You're sweating," he pointed out.

"Yeah," Peter agreed with a tired grin, sipping his beer.

"This is a nice couch," he tried to explain. "I don't want—"

"Yeah, it's comfy," Peter agreed and searched for the remote to the TV. Next, the room was filled with shattered noises from some sport event.

"I'm reading here. I'm doing some research."

"Yeah, so am I. I'm reading and researching and listening. I'm multitasking."

Neal got tired of being subtle. He took the remote and turned the TV off.

"Wait," Peter protested. "What are you doing? I— No, no. When I'm in my home, I listen to the game and I look at my case files."

"Too bad we're not in your home."

"Yeah, the power is still off," he grabbed the remote and turned the TV back on. "So we'll have to hear it."

Obviously, Peter considered his work more important than his.