He tries to pretend that nothing has changed, even though his decade-long chase for a serial killer has left him emotionally drained now that it's over.
It all falls apart one day as he ushers Lisbon out of her office, as he always does these days. His hand instinctively finds the small of her back, reveling in the warmth radiating from her body and the softness of her sweater; that's when a weird thought hits him like a thunderbolt.
The closest a man should ever come to touching a fitted sweater is helping a woman out of one.
Those words sound familiar somehow, and yet completely foreign to him at the same time. He's not the kind of man who undresses women with his eyes; as a matter of fact he's been avoiding women for close on ten years now, and his liaison with Red John's girl surely doesn't count.
For the briefest of moments he allows himself to consider what would happen if he ever attempted to seduce the woman that is now sitting behind the steering wheel; he's pretty sure she'd kill him if she could do as much as guess what's going on in his mind.
He swallows down saliva and stays silent for the rest of the drive. Thankfully Lisbon isn't that good at reading him, though she's probably wondering what he's up to this time.
xxx
Later that evening he's cradling a cup of tea when his eyes fall on the shopping bag that is resting on his couch. He frowns in surprise, then places the teacup on his unused desk and cautiously takes a peek at the bag's content.
His jaw drops as he finally realizes it's a turtleneck sweater; he can't help thinking of a previous conversation he's had with Lisbon, and his pulse immediately quickens.
It doesn't help that he can hear the little minx's soft chuckle from her hiding place around the corner.