Full Disclosure

"Peter, come on! It's just a little outside my radius."

"True, but it is outside."

"An exception, for one night."

"So you can go to an art show and case the place!"

Neal rolled his eyes. "Peter, it's for the art school graduation. Some of them might have a little talent, but they're hardly worth stealing… at this point."

Peter responded with a sigh. "So what's so important about this show then?"

"Well, it's for June. And her granddaughter."

"Oh ho. The 21 year old art student who looks like a swimsuit model?"

"Peter, I'm amazed! What would Elizabeth think about you looking at young women that way?"

"I'm married, Neal, not dead," Peter grumbled.

Neal leaned forward across the desk. "Peter, it's Cindy's graduation. I've been helping her a little."

"Helping her learn to forge classics?" Neal's affronted look actually seemed genuine, and Peter backed off a little. "All right, you helped her."

"With brush techniques."

"Uh huh."

"Peter, this means a lot to June. She's even having Elizabeth plan the event, and paying for the catering. That's why it's not at the school."

"Which is in your radius," Peter pointed out.

"Yes, which is in my radius."

"Neal, if I start calling the Marshals for exceptions every time you want to go somewhere…"

"How many times have I asked, Peter?" The look on Peter's face conceded that there hadn't been many, so Neal pressed his advantage. "Besides, you're invited too." He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and slid it across the desk.

Peter glanced down at his name written in fancy calligraphy. "And why, pray tell, would I be interested in going to an art school graduation?"

"Because it's not just a graduation and a show," Neal explained. "There's a dinner and dancing too. And that invitation is from your wife."

Peter glared across the desk at Neal, but inside he was conceding the fight. Playing the Elizabeth card worked pretty much every time…

He just wished Neal hadn't figured that one out.

The exhibition hall was brightly lit when Peter and Neal arrived, with a number of people already milling about inside. Neal stepped into the light, all smiles, in his element.

Peter followed more slowly, tugging at the neckline of his rented tuxedo shirt and tie. "Why do they have to make these things so tight?"

Neal turned back and slapped Peter's hand down. "That's what you get for renting," he whispered. "You should get one tailored for you."

"Oh, like yours."

"Yes, like mine. Then it'll fit."

Peter clenched his jaw and, reluctantly, let the topic drop. He'd already heard too much about the fashion perils of renting a tuxedo on the drive over.

June saved them from the ensuing silence. "Neal! Peter!"

She came toward them, shimmering in a long black and gold gown, a matching smile shining on her face.

Ever gallant, Neal stepped forward and took her hand, bending low to brush a kiss to the back of her fingers. "You're a vision of beauty and grace, June."

"Oh, you're such a flatterer," she replied with a pleased laugh.

"You are looking beautiful, June," Peter said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

"Thank you, kind sir." She stepped between them, hooking each man on one arm. "I'm so glad you could come tonight. Now, you'll notice that we have the reception area set up here – appetizers and a bar over there. The actual graduation ceremony will be in the parlor to your left, with dinner off to your right. Dancing will be back in the parlor following dinner. And the art exhibition is upstairs," she concluded, nodding her head toward a grand marble staircase. "I think Cindy and most of her classmates are up there."

"We'll be sure to check it out," Neal said. He flashed her his most winning smile. "I hope you've saved me a dance."

"Oh, as many as you'd like!"

"Excellent."

She smiled and leaned toward Neal, winking conspiratorially. "Though I think you'll find plenty of opportunities to fill your dance card without catering to an old woman."

"I don't cater," Neal insisted. "I just gravitate to grace and style."

June laughed and let go of their arms, using one of her newly-free hands to flutter over her heart. "You are so good for my ego!" Then, catching sight of someone, she took a step away and waved. "There's someone I need to greet. Enjoy yourselves!"

Peter snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and pressed one into Neal's hand. "Do you ever stop?"

"Stop what?"

"Whatever it is you do. Trying to charm everyone."

"Why should I?"

"It makes me nervous."

Neal's look was genuinely pained. "Peter, charm is not the same as trying to pull a con. Really, you should try a little charm sometime. It would get you farther than your grumpy FBI agent act." He pulled Peter's hand away from his collar again. "And stop fidgeting!"

"I am not…" The words died in Peter's throat as he watched Neal turn his attention to someone else – a someone else who just happened to be Peter's wife.

"Elizabeth, you look ravishing!"

"Well, thank you, Neal!" She beamed as the younger man kissed her cheek, then held out her hands and turned slowly around, her evening dress spinning in a whirl of black silk. "What do you think, Peter?"

It was a moment before he could answer, mainly because he had to force his jaw shut to form the words. "El, you're beautiful. I mean, you showed me the dress, but…"

Neal laughed at Peter's inability to finish a sentence. "A beautiful dress is nothing without the right woman wearing it," he said. "And you are definitely the right one to wear that dress."

Peter scowled at the idea of someone else complimenting his wife like that, but he had to agree. "You do look great in that dress. Wait, is that why this is a formal affair?"

El laughed. "No, it's formal because that's what June asked for, and she's the client." She tugged Peter's hand away from his collar and pulled him toward the stairs. "Come on, I have a little break and I haven't seen the art display yet."

Neal trailed after them as Elizabeth led the way up the stairs. On the second floor there were several rooms, and displays had been set up. The first room showcased sculpture, and he quickly found himself absorbed in studying the works. Some of them were quite basic, but others showed real promise. He was deep in concentration, studying a student's take on The Thinker, when something interrupted his thoughts.

"Oh, my!"

The voice was a little loud for the surroundings, definitely surprised – and most assuredly sounded like Elizabeth Burke. Curious, Neal wandered into the next room where the words had come from.

"Oh."

He stared around him, not quite grasping what he was seeing at first. This room housed paintings – but not just any paintings. No, these were nudes, male nudes to be exact.

Paintings depicting a nude Neal Caffrey to be very precise.

He remembered Cindy asking if he would pose for the class, recalled thinking it would be fun, something of a lark, definitely different to be on the other side of the easel. And taking his clothes off, well, he was a con man, always adapting.

Never imagining that the portraits would wind up on display.

Oh, and to make it all so much better, he recognized Jones and Cruz from the office. He could hear the hazing now when they reported back. Cruz stepped to one side and he got a good look at the painting they had been looking at…

Neal felt his jaw drop as he took a step closer. The 'Neal' in this one was quite a good representation – the wavy hair, the blue eyes, the toned body.

The penis that trailed down to the knees though…

"That… might be a bit of an exaggeration," he commented, feeling the blood rush to his face.

Cruz nodded solemnly. "Yeah, I don't really think your legs are that long." She broke out laughing as soon as she finished speaking.

Much to Neal's annoyance, Jones and Elizabeth joined in the laughter. He was about to protest when he felt a hand on his elbow and turned to find Peter glaring at him.

"Neal, how could you?"

"How could I what? I didn't…"

"You figure that participating in pornography is a good way to stay out of prison?"

"Peter, no less an authority than the Supreme Court of the United States has held that nudity by itself is not obscene." Neal was impressed that he sounded calmer than he felt.

"He is right about that," Jones agreed, still chuckling.

"But…" Peter took a deep breath and started again. "You actually posed for this?"

Neal shrugged and then nodded. "Cindy asked me to, as a favor." He stepped to one side, looking at another painting. This one wasn't bad. Much more proportional. "I never thought they'd be displayed somewhere," he admitted. Though that next painting wasn't bad either.

"I kind of like this one," Elizabeth said. She was standing in front of an abstract work, which had a series of circles and triangles and other shapes where a body would have been. And a huge pyramid between what passed for legs.

"Not bad for abstract," Neal agreed. He looked around – and spotted Doris Flugnagle, the instructor for the painting class. "Excuse me."

Neal made his way through the growing crowd – why was everyone coming into this room just now? – toward the instructor. "Hello, Doris."

"Oh, hello, Neal! I'm so happy you could make it. The display is quite impressive, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes." He paused, clearing his throat. "I didn't know these portraits were going to be displayed," he said softly, leaning closer.

Doris looked flustered. "Oh, it was in the release you signed. Surely you read it?"

The release… He'd assumed it was more about not suing for bad art. "I might have skimmed over part of it," he admitted.

"I assure you it was in there," Doris said. "We do believe in full disclosure."

Neal looked back at the people gathered all around the portraits. Oh, he was definitely feeling fully disclosed at the moment. "I'm sure it was in there," he mumbled, making a mental note to actually read any future such disclosures before signing. "Very nice show," he said as he moved away.

Skirting carefully along the wall, he was almost to the door when he noticed two of the guests watching him carefully. A little older than most of the students, and definitely better dressed, the women had their heads together, talking softly, and smiling in his direction. One, a blonde, was wearing what he was pretty sure would turn out to be a Dior. Her auburn-haired friend was dressed in a tailored pantsuit that had all the earmarks of an Armani.

Okay, so they were talking about him. But at least they obviously appreciated great style.

They stopped him just short of the door, blocking his escape. Technically, it was a soft blockade – there was room to squeeze between them. But that would be bad form. Instead, he put on his best high society mask. "Ladies."

"I was wondering if you could settle a question for us." That came from the blonde, a smile playing around her lips.

"If I can."

"Well, my friend Laurie and I think you were the model for these portraits."

Neal winked, drawing them in like co-conspirators. "Well, I do believe in supporting the arts, any way I can."

Laurie laughed in appreciation. "Oh, Connie and I appreciate art too." Her eyes gave him a long, slow once-over. "Especially fine art."

Was the room getting warmer? "And have you seen anything you like?"

It was Connie's turn to laugh. "Oh yes, we have."

Play the hand you're dealt… "Neal Caffrey." He took Connie's hand gently in his and kissed it.

"Connie Meachum."

"Laurie Sheffield."

Neal kissed Laurie's hand too and turned on his mega-watt smile. "Ladies, perhaps we could go downstairs for some champagne. We can discuss our mutual appreciation of… fine things."

He offered his arms, and quickly had one woman holding each. He steered them out the door, pointedly ignoring everyone who was watching them. (Though he was sure he heard Peter mumble something that sounded like, "Only you, Caffrey.")

Okay, so maybe finding himself surrounded by nude portraits of himself had been a bit of a shock. And yes, he probably should have actually read the disclosure. But one of the things that made him the best at a con was his ability to assess, accept, and adapt.

Assessment: The paintings were already displayed, nothing he could do about it. Some were even quite good, even close to anatomically correct.

Acceptance: Monday was going to be hell in the office once Jones and Cruz finished telling everyone about this. But compared to being shot at? Piece of cake. He'd laugh with them.

Adapt: Thanks to the paintings, he had a beautiful woman on each arm with virtually no effort. Well, not that he usually had to put a LOT of effort into that anyway, but still… no effort got him ahead a lot faster. They'd have champagne, and talk, and eat dinner, and dance… and who knew where the night might lead?

Yes, he was adapting just fine.

Maybe being fully disclosed – or dis-CLOTHED – wasn't really so bad.