As soon as Neal stepped into Peter's office, his handler glanced up. "Oh good, you're here."
Neal handed over a cup of coffee, which Peter took gratefully while Neal took a sip of his own. "Yeah, I got your call. What's up with the case? Did our guy talk to Diana?"
"Not… exactly. No."
Neal looked surprised. "Wow. She can usually get anything out of them. What happened? Did her cover get blown?"
"Nope. It seems our suspect doesn't play for her team."
Neal eyebrows came back down. "Oh."
"Yeah, oh. So I'm gonna need you to be a male stripper."
Neal choked on his coffee. "Whoa! I don't play for his team either!"
"Tell me, Neal, who else am I supposed to send in to a place like that? You've done worse, I'm sure."
"Anders," Neal said right away.
Peter shook his head. "No way."
"Why not?" Neal exclaimed, but the look on Peter's face said it all and his eyebrows came down even further. "Oh… Really?"
"Yep. No way am I letting him go to a place like that."
"Well that explains why he's been bringing me coffee," Neal said glancing down at the cup in his hand while Peter immediately set his aside.
"Okay, fine," Neal agreed, "But no FBI devices allowed. This goes nowhere, understand? And I will know."
Peter kept a straight face as he tried not to laugh at Neal's expressing, his blue eyes stern and serious for once. "I'd never let that happen."
14 hours later…
Elizabeth grinned as she watched four men walk out on stage, wearing nothing but black pants and ties around their necks. And Neal (or Ken) of course wore his fedora.
Beside her, Peter refused to watch, instead giving her a narrow-eyed look and shouting over the music, "You're enjoying this too much!"
She smirked, not bothering to deny it. Hell yeah she was enjoying it.