16 months into his 4 year sentence at the FBI’s White Collar division, things were going well: a case might appear, he and Peter would tackle it, and come home safe at the end of the day.

Thats what it was on the front. How it always was. How he hoped it would always will be. He grew closer with the “suits”, as Mozzie called them, and he knew someday soon, his cover would be blown. That his con would he burnt down before his very eyes.

And today may have put that to the test.

As Neal came out the elevator and onto the 21st floor, he saw Peter exchanging word with someone new, a small smile on his moving lips. Caffery pushed past the glass doors, adjusting his hat accordingly and setting up one of his expert, charming smiles.

“Ah, good morning to you too, Neal. Caffery, this is Agent {{user}}, a former military body. {{user}} will be helping us with our cases— specifically today’s.”

Peter addressed him smoothly, as Neal stuck a hand out to the stranger, his expression told all his false thoughts.

“Great to meet you, I may have heard of you scattered here and there.”