A/N: Hi everyone! So this will be one of those stories that have short chapters but will be updated daily. And it's entirely dedicated to my sister Nadia, from whom I have borrowed the name for one of the recurring characters in this fiction. For my birthday she got me Patrick Jane's tea cup (I am an avid tea drinker), isn't she awesome? So this is her thank you gift.

This story is also a very different style I'm trying out, so most certainly not everyone will like it. But oh well. This is basically the product of my silly imagination: Lisbon living in a condo and her relationship with Jane seen from her neighbors, while at the same time following Bruno Heller's set of events (so set pre-Blue Bird).

Message to my sister: Hi Nadia! *waves* Sorry you're a 65-year-old meddling lady, but you are probably the most curious person I know - asking questions is second nature for you. That also makes you one of the most entertaining persons I know, too! Love from your big sister.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of the Mentalist.

When they had first learned that the new buyer of lot number 72 was an FBI agent, the other condo owners' first reaction was distrust. Why the hell did an FBI agent want to settle here of all places? They lived in a modest residence composed of three identical condo buildings, and did have the luxuries of a pool and a vast garden. But didn't Special Agents all own big white houses with automatic gates, and expensive cars offered by the government? Was he or she planning to watch them like a hawk, waiting for one of them to make a mistake or break a law that they didn't even know existed? That was the corrupted image they all had of officers of the law.

The newcomer hadn't even moved in, but was now everyone's favorite topic of conversation. Nadia, a woman in her mid sixties living behind door 73 in the corner next to apartment 72, loved a good gossip. Number 31 had recently hooked up with number 29; number 13's husband was a womanizer...and a father of three kids. She had been pleased to learn that her new neighbor was a Fed, and so had the responsibility of keeping the community updated on the new arrival. It was definitely something to spice up her mundane and solitary existence.

She was very disappointed, thought, when the new owner and supposedly from the big Bureau turned out to be a petite brunette in her early forties. Was she the mighty FBI agent they had all been talking about?

"Hi, my name's Teresa Lisbon, I'll be your new neighbor." The agent addressed her a polite smile after having noticed the older woman standing in the corner, who no doubt was watching her. She extended her right hand after balancing the cardboard box she was holding in her other arm.

"Nadia," she nodded, scanning her from head to toe with her keen eyes, not bothering to elaborate nor to shake Teresa's hand, making her feel uncomfortable.

"Ah, she doesn't talk much to strangers," said a voice from behind the Fed. A blond haired man about the same age emerged from the stairs with a crooked smile. He too was holding an imposing box most certainly filled with the woman's belongings. A flash of light caught Nadia's attention, and she noticed the wedding ring on the man's left hand, glinting with the rays of sunlight reflecting on it on this late morning. Of course, she immediately assumed they were married; but one look at the brunette's bare left hand told her otherwise. Interesting. Most probably an affair, she mused.

"But that's not a problem. I'll do the presentations," Blondie - whatever his name was - added with a wicked grin.

"Jane, don't you-" Lisbon warned, trying to interrupt him in vain as he had already raised his voice.

"No husband nor kids, so spends her time meddling and gossiping about her neighbors' lives to make up for her lonely life and self-imposed frustrations. Doesn't particularly like officers of the law, thinks they all have chips in their necks," he listed, his eyes not leaving Nadia's face. "Name's Patrick Jane," he finished, a self-satisfied smile etched on his face.

Nadia was shocked by his boldness. Who did he think he was and how dare he talk to her like that?

The Lisbon woman didn't seem impressed with his attitude either by the looks of it, shooting him daggers with her eyes. "So you've met my colleague. I apologize for his behavior; he likes to mess around with people," she said dryly.

"And the FBI hire people like you?" Nadia spat, the words directed to the man standing beside the brunette.

"They do, and they were pretty desperate to have me sign their contract, might I add," he replied smugly.

She glared at him and he mock glared back. Knowing it was useless to wait for the arrogant bastard to apologize, she turned around muttering and slammed her door shut.

From the inside of her condo she still heard her new neighbor reprimand him: "What was that? God Jane, you're despicable! I knew I shouldn't have let you help me move. You just ruined any chances I had of socializing with my neighbor."

"Oh come on, Lisbon. They were slim; I saved you from the effort of trying."

"Glad to see that your arrogance hasn't changed a bit in two years."

This caught Nadia's attention, but she couldn't hear Blondie's reply as they probably have entered the condo by now.

A/N: Silly? Crazy? Weird? You name it.