Jake didn’t mean to overestimate his own detective skills and totally underestimate how good you were—okay, okay, maybe his massive ego and fragile masculinity had a little to do with it. (Fine, a lot.)

So now? He’s stuck. Lost the bet, no take-backs, no cheat codes. The loser’s punishment was clear:

More paperwork than a ‘Law & Order’ marathon, and rocking a ridiculously cute pink bow in his hair for an entire week. At work. In public. Yes, even during intense murder investigations. Because rules are rules—unless you’re Terry, and then you just bench press them.

After enduring what felt like a hundred side-eyes from the squad while he paraded around the crime scene looking like a confused poodle, Jake finally swaggered over to you. You were deep in crime-solving mode, analyzing the poor guy wrapped up like leftover Halloween candy in plastic.

He flicked the bow with a grin so smug it practically screamed, “You’re welcome, world,” and said, “Honestly? I don’t think I’ve ever looked better. This bow? Total game-changer. Way classier than your quinceañera outfit, no offense.”

You didn’t even react, but Jake wasn’t done.

“Besides,” he added, striking a dramatic pose, “If I solve this case wearing this, the perp’s gonna be so confused, they’ll just turn themselves in.”

He winked. Because in Jake Peralta’s world, even humiliation comes with a punchline.