The house was stunning. Not what she would choose for herself, if by some miracle she could ever afford a place like this, but stunning nonetheless. And perfect for the con that was due to play out in a few short hours.

She took in the gleaming white walls and the tall glass windows as she climbed the steps to the front door. The place screamed money, just as she knew the inside would, especially now that Agent Pike's people had finished filling it with all sorts of sculptures and art. She recognised one or two of the Art Squad agents she passed on her way up, all dressed discreetly in caterer's uniforms, as well as some agents from Surveillance. All audio and visual devices were now up and running and being given one final check, and she had to admit it gave her a measure of reassurance; Jane's schemes weren't known for always going strictly to plan.

"Ah, Lisbon. Just the woman I was hoping for."

Seemingly from nowhere, Jane appeared by her side the second she stepped through the front door. Immediately, his fingers wrapped around her wrist.

"Why?" she asked suspiciously when he tugged gently, ignoring her blatant attempts to look around as he led her towards the stairs. She didn't bother resisting. Partly because she was too preoccupied with trying to ignore the warmth that flared at his touch, but mostly because she knew it really wasn't worth her effort.

"You, my dear, have a dress to try on." He beamed at her, and despite everything, her eyes rolled before she could stop them. But then his words fully registered.

"What, now?" She stopped halfway up the winding staircase, frowning at an obviously impatient Jane waiting on the step above. "But we have hours before we need to be ready." She paused to consider. "Wait, you're not worried you made a mistake and picked the wrong dress size, are you?" she teased. She was still more than a little miffed that he hadn't left that particular detail to her.

"Really, Lisbon, there's no need to be rude."

She snorted at this characteristic display of arrogance.

"I can assure you the dresses will fit perfectly," he continued, sending her a look that was gone so quickly it was impossible to iterpret. "It will simply be easier to get into character when we go over our roles together."

Lisbon didn't know if that was entirely true, but she decided it was simpler to play along.

"Shall we?" he asked with a wink, before quickly relieving her of the shopping bags Wiley had given her, as well as the overnight bag she'd retrieved from her car. She was too disappointed to protest. She simply shook her head and sighed in resignation when, with another wide smile, he turned and took the stairs two at a time, leaving her to follow in his wake.

Moments later she found him standing in the doorway of the master bedroom, having already divested himself of her bags. With a guiding hand he ushered her inside. "The master bath is just along there," he leaned out of the doorway and pointed in the general direction of the other room, "where, I have been assured, there are no cameras. Now…" He grinned like a Cheshire Cat and rubbed his hands together far too gleefully for Lisbon's liking, "I'll be back shortly."

"Uh, Jane?" There was no way he was getting off that easily.

"Yes, dear?" With an air of nonchalance, he turned when he reached the doorway and leaned casually against the frame.

"What about you?" She crossed her arms and stared pointedly.

"Me?"

"Yes, you. If I have to wear that," she gestured to the bags on the bed, "don't you think you should change into something equally appropriate?" There was absolutely no way that of the two of them, she was the only one who was going to be getting dressed up for this.

"Don't worry, Lisbon. I too shall be properly attired."

And before she could press him further he was gone.

With a huff of annoyance she stared at the empty doorway, and preoccupied as she was, it was a good few seconds before she roused herself to take a quick look around the room. It didn't take long. It held only the basics, but the minimalistic style only served to highlight the stolen artwork on display. Their lure, Van Gogh's Poppy Flowers, hung framed in the corner, one of several pieces she'd become familiar with over the last few days. Thankfully, Jane—with the help of his memory palace—was the designated art connoisseur in this con.

With one last, almost helpless, look around, Lisbon reluctantly came to the conclusion that there were no other possible reasons for delay. She sighed heavily and walked towards the bed. With a grimace, she opened a bag and pulled out the dress she planned to wear that night before heading for the bathroom. She'd put it on and humour Jane, but the hair and make-up would just have to wait.

When she returned to the master bedroom a short time later, she found Jane relaxing at the foot of the bed. At the sight of him she stopped abruptly in her tracks. "I thought you were getting changed."

Jane stood and held his arms wide, presenting himself for inspection. Frowning, she let her eyes trail from unruly golden curls, over a well-worn shirt and suit, down to a very familiar pair of brown shoes.

"I did."

"You added a scarf." She knew she sounded incredulous, but really, a scarf? That was it?

"Don't you think I look the part, Lisbon?"

She scowled. Because really, he did. The damn scarf added a charm she wouldn't have thought possible, gave him a slightly eccentric air that suited him perfectly. It was decidedly unfair. If she had to dress up in a too short, too low cut, form fitting dress—with sky high heels—then it was only right that he should need to make some sort of an effort as well.

Irritated, she let his question go unanswered, and instead tugged self-consciously on the straps of her dress. What she wouldn't give for it to sit even a little higher. Trust Jane to pick the one she felt like she would fall out of at any second. That thought reminded her that, yes, he was still right in front of her, and she glanced up warily to find him grinning openly. It only served to rile her further.

Anticipating her, he held his hands wide before she could utter a word. "You can't threaten to shoot me, Lisbon. I'm pretty sure you're not hiding a firearm anywhere on your person."

His eyes wandered down her body for effect, but she determinedly fought the blush she felt spreading and immediately turned her scowl to a glare. "Maybe I can't shoot you, but I'll bet I could do some damage with that scarf you're wearing."

Jane merely chuckled.

Giving the dress up as a lost cause, Lisbon reached into a bag for matching shoes. She held one heel in each hand, debating the merits of barefoot versus practice, but for the sake of the con and her dignity, practice won. There would be less chance of falling flat on her face in front of their FBI colleagues—or their suspects.

"Why couldn't I be The Face?" she complained as she slipped them on her feet. "At least that way I'd be back in my own clothes after tonight."

Jane waved a hand dismissively. "Meh, that would never work."

The sudden stab of hurt took her by surprise. "What, you don't think I could lure Pulaski up here?" She aimed for indignation, but the pause before he spoke and the way his gaze held hers, told her she'd had a tell that hadn't gone amiss.

He shifted ever so slightly closer and leaned towards her earnestly. "Oh, of that I have no doubt. But if you were The Face that would make Kim an Inside Man, my girlfriend, and that is what wouldn't work. She could never be right in that role."

'And I am?' The words almost slipped from her lips, but she bit them back just in time. In the end she didn't say anything.

"Now," he went on, after a spell of utter silence. "Since everyone is just about finished downstairs, shall we say goodbye before I show you around? We should have some time to ourselves before our party guests arrive."

Not for the first time since Jane had returned to her life, confusion mingled with a healthy dose of frustration, but she consigned everything not relevant to the con to the back of her mind for now and cautiously moved forward to take his proffered arm.

It was obvious to her, to anyone, that Jane was in his element with this case. It was just her bad luck that after weeks of attempting to wean herself from his company, of telling herself some things just weren't meant to be, that it had come to this—a stint as his live-in girlfriend.