Disclaimer: In Plain Sight and all its characters belong to USA Network and those mean producers who left us all hanging in the season finale.
It was times like these that made Marshall Mann wonder if his life was a giant cosmic joke. Because...Faber...seriously? He manages, not once, but TWICE, to all but wave a giant sign in his partner's face that said 'Pick Me'...and she goes to Can-freaking-cun with that FBI joker.
He made such a face at the little origami swan on his desk that he caught Stan ducking back into his office, shaking his head and avoiding whatever inevitable rant would have erupted from the taller half of his Wit-Sec team's mouth. The lanky cowboy had been all but intolerable in the week since Mary Shannon had jetted off to make use of her vacation time and she was still scheduled to be gone for another week. It was just safer inside his enclosed office for now. Especially as the aforementioned origami swan went flying into the trashcan with an audible growl, joining it's fifty predecessors.
Marshall ignored the audible click of his boss's door as it shut again and dragged another sheet of Mary's paperwork towards him to start folding once more. There was something very therapeutic about the precise, measured movements involved in the art...and something very cathartic about the act of slamming the finished piece into the trashcan when he was through with it. If Mary had been at her desk, she would have already spent the last fifteen minutes ridiculing his kindergarten art projects...but then that was the problem, wasn't it? She wasn't there. She was in Cancun. With Faber.
He crushed the half finished boat in his hand at the thought. Twice...two times he basically says to her face how much he cares...and she waltzes off like he had just passed along the weekend's weather forecast. It was almost enough to make him give up on the tall, snarky blonde he had fallen for so many years ago. His fingers toyed with his mouse, waving the cursor over the link to the internal webpage that listed position openings as it had every day since he found out just who exactly she was meeting in Mexico—he bet that Faber didn't even know a word of Spanish anyway, so really, what use was he there to begin with?
It was with a resigned sigh that he flexed his fingers, about to click the maddening, taunting link when his phone jerked to life, vibrating madly on the table. Marshall released the mouse and picked it up, glancing down at the screen before he flipped it open. Mary's name glowed brightly up at him as he brought up her message:
Hey numbnuts...Back on Thursday at 9. You better have finished my work by then. -M
Smiling broadly, Marshall reached over to close the window on his computer and settled back into his chair, liberating the last swan from its place atop the trashcan. He fiddled with it for a moment before rising to go place it on the corner of Mary's desk. He grabbed his phone to tap out a quick response to his partner: Only if you're paying. -M and headed out of the office, whistling a happy tune.
He knew what her text really meant: I'm coming home to you, please pick me up at the airport, I've missed you and I want pie.
Yes, he could give up...but where would the fun (and pie) be in that?