Barney sits at the end of the bar at MacLaren's staring sorrowfully into his glass of scotch. It isn't as though he can't go join his friends at their usual table all of five steps away; he is more than welcome - after showing Lily that he can totally nail a hottie with his latest bamboozle. And it certainly is a doozy. No, Barney isn't staring sadly at his glass because Aldrin is once again making him prove himself before he can sit with the 'cool kids'. He's staring because that is how the game begins.

Tonight his name is Derek Somethingorother. He knows he doesn't always have to be somebody else when he picks up women, but he's just so damn good at it that he figures it would be a shame not to. Besides, its always easier to fake emotions when he isn't radiating so much awesome. And tonight, Barney needs to cry.

He glances up, scanning the room for a sweet, young philly of a certain type, never letting his gaze linger long else he spoil the charade. Tonight is not a night for confident Barney... well at least not yet. Finally, he spots her straight ahead, green eyes sparkling as she tosses her long blonde hair behind her shoulder and sips her drink.

Low cut silver top. At least a D-cup. Score. Target acquired, he thinks, shooting Ted a thumbs up to let him know that he's about to unleash a male-soap-opera-star-kinda-Barney.

At the table, Ted catches the thumbs up and cuts Marshall off with a thwack to the chest.

"You'll never believe it! And St. Cloud is just so...OW! What the hell, Ted?" Marshall exclaims, rubbing his sternum.

"Oh, baby," Lily says, reaching across the table to rub her boyfriend's arm.

"I think he's gonna go for it," Ted starts.

"Pfft. Never gonna work," interjects Lily, sizing up her friend's target.

"And it's your own fault for sitting next to me instead of next to your girlfriend," Ted finishes, turning his attention back to Marshall.

"Damn straight!" Lily giggles as Marshall begins to puff up in defence. She loves it when her Marshmallow gets defensive. It's so cute. But not currently cute enough to distract her from her burning desire to see Barney miserably fail. It's not that she doesn't want her friend to see success, she just thinks it's much more fun when he crashes and burns, always happy to see the ego-centric man taken down a peg or two.

"Okay," Ted stage-whispers. "Here he goes."

Here I go, Barney thinks, swigging the last of his scotch. He loosens his tie as he walks to the other end of the bar and slumps into the chair beside the rockin' blonde, and though his imperfect tie pains him greatly, it is necessary to the cause. The woman doesn't notice the slightly dishevelled man next to her right away; it takes a moment, and he catches her attention when his arm brushes her breast as he reaches to place his empty glass on the bar counter.

"What ze hell do you theenk you are..." she starts, turning to face Barney, ready to cuss him out for the impropriety. Her emerald eyes flash a venomous green, so intent is she on tearing a strip out of him for trying to cop a feel. When she looks at him, however, she doesn't see the 'typical' American sexual predator like she expects. Instead, she finds herself looking at a very attractive but undeniably upset man holding onto an empty tumbler, staring straight ahead as if he is the only one in the room while he patiently awaits a refill on his drink.

Barney – no, Derek - knows she's looking at him now; she's trying to figure him out and he won't allow that to happen. If he acknowledges her too early, the whole damn thing might explode in his face, so he looks at his feet, then at hers. As he runs his eyes up her body to meet her gaze, he knows she sees his sterling blue eyes full of very realistic fake pain and lets a tear slide down his cheek. But just one. He's thinking of how sad it was when the loser kid won at the end of The Karate Kid, but she doesn't need to know that. And besides, what chick doesn't cream for a hot, sensitive guy who isn't afraid to cry?

"Oh," she says. "I am so sorry. I thought you were..."

"Hmm?"

He keeps his tear-clouded eyes focused on hers as he tilts his head, like he hadn't heard. Is that accent French? he asks himself. Am I cool with French? Have I crossed French off the list yet? Ahh, who cares? Look at those boobs!

"Monsieur, I am so very sorry for, how you say, snapping at you. You are upset. Please, you should tell me what eez the matter. I will buy you a drink to apologize. I am Claudette," she says, signalling Carl for Barney's refill and one of her own.

Carl has known Barney for a while now and recognizes the look on his face. He loves it when Barney cries during a bit. It's just so unlike the real him. Plus, it totally scores the chicks. It's not as if he totally approves of the extend of whoredom that Barney has travelled into, cause dude, that's just gross, but he figures to each their own. Besides, it's funny as fuck, and he is thankful for the cheap entertainment to break up the monotony of his evenings. He can't wait to find out which angle Barney's working tonight, so he hurries when the blonde signals him for their drinks.

Carl serves them - a scotch on the rocks for Barney and a dirty martini for Claudette. Barney takes a sip and looks at her with red rimmed eyes for a moment before he speaks.

"Derek. Thanks for the scotch, but really, I'm fine. A hundred percent, even."

She arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him.

"Okay, fine. I'm not fine, but I don't really want to get into it. It's just too..." he chokes half-heartedly, reverting his gaze back to the contents of his glass.

"She's totally buying this hook, line and sinker!" Lily exclaims from the booth, surprised and a little indignant. "I can't believe she's buying this hook, line and sinker!"

"It's okay, Lilypad," Marshall reassures, slipping into the seat beside her. "I think she's French, so it doesn't really count. And no, Ted, I don't think the kitchen will cook us popcorn for this, although that is a very yummy proposition."

Time to reel her in, Barney thinks as Claudette intertwines her fingers with his.

"Derek, zere eez no need to be shy with me. I am a very good listener and feel horrible. What can I do eef you will not let me help make your tears go away? Please, tell me what eez the matter?"

He swallows the last of his drink and half of another before he agrees to tell her. She strokes his shoulder gently as he tells her about his little sister, Melanie, his sweet Mellie, falling ill with a rare cancer. She wipes the tears from his face as he tells her how he twice mortgaged his home and sold his car to pay for her treatments. She orders another round as he begins to tell her that the treatments haven't been working and that he was and is still willing to do anything to get his sister better. Openly weeping, he tells her that he found a way to send Melanie to a special clinic in Paris for an expensive experimental treatment, but has pretty much sold his soul in order to do it.

She grasps his hand and brings his head to rest on her chest as he tells her that the money he borrowed for Mellie's most recent treatments came from a man in the Mafia and that because he hadn't been able to pay them back on time, he was now expected to do them a 'little favour', one he could not possibly complete while in possession of a conscience. He raises his head and looks her straight in the eyes. She finds herself crying when he tells her that some very bad men are going to horribly murder him in twelve hours over money he used trying to save his baby sister. She thinks she's falling in love with a marked man when he chokes between sobs that he's made peace with dying, he just wishes he could see Melanie one last time to make sure she's okay.

"Can you not go to ze police?" Claudette asks, gripping his arm tightly, the overwhelming emotions and thrill of danger sending shivers up her spine, tugging on her heartstrings.

"No. They own a cop," he sighs, taking another swig from his scotch. "Maybe even two. I wish I had've known sooner. I wish I had've been able to see her one last time before I..."

"Come to Paris with me tonight."

"Pardon moi?" Barney is stunned. This is going so much better than he had planned. He's kind of sad he can't see the look on Lily's face right now. "Did you just... ask me to come to Paris with you?"

"Oui. We'll run. "

"But..."

"No. No buts."

"They'll find me. They'll hunt me down."

"You can see your sister, your Mellie, before zey find you."

"But..."

"Shh," she whispers, placing a long, slender finger on his lips. "We'll hide in my chateau on ze outskirts of Paris and make love until dawn."

"It'd be too dangerous. I don't want to get you hurt."

She stops his protesting with her mouth on his, sudden, hot, and needy. Her pink lips are sticky and sweet, tasting of raspberries and vodka. As she pulls away they stand and join hands in silent agreement.

"So, we go, yes?" she asks, looking at him innocently, her fingers laced with his.

Holy shit. I'm totally going to Paris, he thinks, and winks at the gang on his way out, overjoyed when he sees Lily fuming in disbelief.

And it's gonna be legendary.