Neal leaned on the balustrades of his rooftop terrace, looking out and up at the night sky, as if searching for something.
'Neal.'
'Moz.'
'This is New York you know, there are no stars out there. You know why? Light pollution! I'm telling you these-'
'I know Moz, I know.'
'It's cold out here.'
Neal pointed to the bottle of scotch beside him on the banister and continued to stare at the sky.
'You're not a scotch guy.'
'The mood strikes.'
'Ah, I see that you are thinking. So tell me Sherlock, what's playing in that head of yours...Wait! Let me guess, the anklet causing you problems again? I know you want to go to that exhibi-'
'No, Moz.'
'Alright, must be a case then. Who did you and Peter mess with this time? Not tha-'
'No.'
'Sara? It must be her. You two-'
'Moz! Stop it. I'm not in the mood.'
'Then tell me what it is.'
Neal pushed himself off the balcony and turned towards his friend.
'Did you really mean it when you said that happily ever after isn't for guys like us?'
'Yes, I did. You know why? It's because guys like us ca-'
'Moz, really?'
Moz noticed that Neal's eyes were shining. He forced himself to look into those shining eyes and said, 'Happily ever isn't for us. Look, both of us has search for it and where has it led us? Nowhere. People like us are not born for that kind of life. Somewhere, somehow the system screwed itself up and we are the victims. I'm sorry Neal, but it is not for us.'
Neal turned away and blinked. 'Ok,' he said softly. Then again he said it, louder and more convinced.
The next time Neal looks at Moz, his Caffrey charm and wide smile were back in place.
'So Mozzie, why are you here? Got a heist that needs my help?'
'Let's talk inside. There's is this new...'