A/N: So I primarily write one-shots. But I kind of wanted to do a multi-chapter thing, so I decided to do my own little version of the drabble series. This is going to be 25 drabbles/one-shots that lead up to the pilot, so this is before the show starts. So Van Pelt doesn't appear, for obvious reasons. I made up my own time line for this, so it could be entirely wrong, but I decided that by the pilot Jane has been working with the CBI for about a year. I also decided that Rigsby doesn't start for a few months after Jane, so he doesn't exist yet. I don't know why I decided that, but he'll turn up within the first ten chapters. Alot of it is Jane/Lisbon, because I love them, but about half of the chapters won't be. Which for me, I swear, is cutting back. : )

This particular chapter is Lisbon meeting Jane. I kind of figured that she would be struck by his being attractive the first time she meets him, even if she eventually doesn't think about it, because she doesn't know him yet, all she has to go on is the physical. And the physical is hot.

Note the dates. I like reviews. Sorry about the long A/N.

***

Late-August, 2007

Jane was handsome.

It was an reasonable and clear observation, and it didn't bother her to think it. Lisbon was a red-blooded, heterosexual female, and in some objective way it didn't escape her that the new team consultant was attractive. He was wearing a gray suit and a matching vest, which was unusal in the California heat, but it seemed to fit into what she knew of the man. The charming smile and expensive-smelling cologne did not. According to Minelli, the man had an eerie ability to figure out incredibly private things about a person simply by observing them. It was this fact more than any other that made her uncomfortable to meet him.

He reached out and took her hand for a lingering shake in both of his; he looked for her eyes, and she gave them, albeit reluctantly. The way he looked into her face—wide-eyed and probing, seeming to absorb bits of her, was surprisingly and frighteningly intimate; there and gone in the next second, replaced by the dancing blue eyes.

He said his name was Jane, and there was a pause, in which she was probably supposed to give her name but didn't, her voice somehow caught behind her teeth.

"So, you're my boss," he said, inclining his head.

She was having trouble finding her words.

"It'll be fun," he continued.

The time came again for her to say something, and then passed. Again.

"That's all I've got," he said, suddenly laughing uncomfortably. "So maybe you could—I don't know, reciprocate."

Lisbon was feeling the unease of having her expectations dashed, something which always messed with her. She had never been good at adjusting to the unexpected, and after thirty-plus years of life, she doubted that would change. It had nothing to do with Jane's exceeding attractiveness: she had been around good-looking men before, and she would be around them again. Really, if she was being honest, even Cho was easy enough on the eyes, but Cho was not Jane, who was all suave and frills and spicy cologne that contrasted sharply with her, and with every other cop she had ever worked with.

Mercifully, her voice worked its way back into her throat, and regained its place in her mouth. "I'm Agent Lisbon."

He tilted his head to the side, trying to look into her again. She found an excuse to look off into the distance when he said, "Lisbon. Is there a first name that goes with that?"

She could feel her eyebrows scrunching together, the consternation in her forehead. "Why don't you ask around, Jane? It's irrelevant."

He smiled at her, completely unoffended, and promised her he'd do just that. It was a different grin than she'd seen from him so far—suddenly wicked, devilish, like a little boy. "And don't worry," he said. "You'll stop being so nervous around me after a while. You'll get used to it." He winked at her, a rougish wink.

For anything, she wanted to ask him what exactly he was referring to when he said she would "Get used to it." Get used to what? But she didn't.

Surprisingly, her voice was still there. "I'm just tired," she said, trying to recover some version of the upper hand. "Out of it, is all."

He shook his head. "On the contrary, Agent Lisbon, I'd say you're entirely in it."

He started to walk away and then turned back, the same little smile on his face. "And your name is Teresa."

By the time she entirely worked out what he had said, he was walking away from her, not looking back, toward the coffee pot.

It was just as well. Her voice was gone again, anyway.

Next chapter: "Lisbon was angry."