Created November 2014 - I don't own these characters or the words made famous by the TV show, Bones. Love them anyway. All the rest that follows is my feeble attempt to keep time in between broadcasts; Razztaztic, Threesquares, and Covalent Bond postings
A/N: 11/2/2014 Phew! Done before Broncos/Pats! I started this snippet back in June. I've tried a few times, but this vignette won't fit with the flow of Collide, so a two-chappie install this is! What a treat it was to get new words this weekend from some of my faves: Covalent Bond, grc73, FaithInBones, Razztaztic, RositaLG and Jazzyproz. No better way to say "thank you", but to share some words of my own! (BTW, November means it's NaNoWriMo, people, let's see some writing!)
Deep breath buddy. Here we go.
Channeling his best soldier-to-civilian courtesy, he greeted "Hello Dr. Brennan."
"Hello Agent Booth" she returned coolly.
He exhaled, thankful for her civility.
I'm gonna make it through this.
"You, uh, it's nice, uh…you look good."
She blinked. Neither eyebrow arched, but he could detect a subtle widening of her eyes in surprise.
Shit.
Fuck.
Dammit Seeley! You idiot!
Quickly, Booth defaulted to an apologetic smile. Definitely not his get-out-of-trouble-with-any-girl smile, there was no way that Temperance Brennan would fall for it. She was capricious, this one. Out of his league? Most definitely. His most charming self had failed at ensnaring her before. So the Charm Strategy on The Egghead? Nope, definitely not in his plans.
But neither was that last sentence. Ten words into his apology/pitch, his well-shined, FBI standard-issue shoe had planted itself squarely into his mouth.
Shit, shit, shit!
He had been preparing for this moment for weeks, and already he was heading head-first into the helicopter blades. He really needed to clarify and quick.
"Sorry. Heh!" He rubbed his neck. "I guess finally getting to trial on this case has me distracted. You don't look nice, what I meant to say that it's nice to see you." Brennan snorted. Booth smiled briefly before his brain caught up to his mouth. "Shit!"
Brennan celebrated with silent satisfaction that her conclusions about him were indeed correct: Special Agent Seeley Booth was an idiot. An oafish, babbling, bumbling fool.
An imbecile.
An imbecile that – yes - she had been irrationally drawn to, obviously because of his crime-solving abilities and – yes – his impressive ranking within the Golden Ratio. That, plus she had been ovulating during their project together, so of course she was more sexually excitable, and forgiving of his intellectual inadequacies. But that was then.
My conclusions were correct. She surmised. She thought. An effective cop. Still a moron.
Booth sighed audibly. "I mean…it's nice to see you… and I find your attire and um, grooming to be, uh – admirable – and uh, well-suited for a court appearance."
Shut up Seeley, you moron!
Really? Grooming? Is she a horse?
Brennan's brow furrowed as she surveyed her ensemble. She was curious at the standard against which he was measuring her, especially given his inability to formulate a cogent sentence. She was wearing separates of course, purchased at a time way before the effects of diet she maintained on her most recent dig. She knew that she was beautiful, but she was certain that she wasn't his type, which she assumed was of the ex-cheerleader variety. But yet he had wanted her once. He even returned after she spurned him, breaking all sorts of social norms.
What was it about this man?
Booth watched Brennan assess her own attire thankful for a moment to regroup. Begrudgingly, he dismissed the thought of taking her away to The Royal to buy her a burger and some pie. She did look nice, in a way that only Temperance Brennan could pull off. Neutral tones, clunky shoes and a clunky necklace to match. Loose strands of hair emancipated from an afterthought of a ponytail.
Brennan accepted that she looked acceptable. As put together as one could expect of an absent-minded genius who didn't care about such things.
If she could have read Seeley Booth's mind, she'd learn that he found her to be fucking adorable. But she could not, she did not understand this man one bit.
Looking back up, Brennan found his eyes round and brown and warm.
And his cheeks were flushed.
Relax man. Focus!
He shoved his hands in his pockets thankful for the anchor of Pop's lighter and his poker chip. Briefly, he looked away, nervously surveying the surrounding fray before resettling his gaze back to her.
Brown eyes bored into blue, and for the both of them, the frenzied pace of the courthouse bustle suddenly faded around them. All there was, was each other and the three feet between them as they circled each other.
Locked in a staring contest.
A quarter of a minute, perhaps a half, passed as they silently regarded each other, both of them utterly perplexed at why the other was so disarming.
The sniper was first to blink. Twitchy hands moved from Booth's pockets to his hips, his poker chip rolling between the fingers of his right hand.
"Let me start again. It's nice to see you Dr. Brennan. You look well."
She sniffed.
Booth relaxed, finding himself somewhat amused by her silence. Finally, he realized - he liked it that he bugged her. She's still mad, he concluded, risking a brief grin. Just go with it.
The sight of his grin aroused her, which annoyed her. Scoundrel, she sneered. He thinks he knows me, he thinks that with one smile, all will be forgiven. It is a lovely smile. He is very handsome of course….Shit, I must stop thinking about that. Why is he so distracting to me? Ugh! I can't do this, where's Angela? Brennan looked away, in search of quarter.
Booth was about to start Attempt 4 to engage her, but he was thwarted by an overly-dramatic throat clearing coming from the direction of Brennan's gaze.
Quickly, the hyperaware sniper zoned in on Angela Montenegro, noting that the scientist's pal was throwing Brennan some serious eyebrow. Nearby Angela stood a frowning Zach Addy and Hodgins (who actually seemed more interested in the cut of Angela's skirt than that which was obviously Angela's focus). Booth offered the motely trio a curt nod, before returning his attention back to Brennan, who was apparently being silently urged by her girlfriend to speak with him.
Was she blushing? Or fuming?
Either way, it was now Brennan who was making every effort to mask her uneasiness. With a quick sigh, she reestablished eye contact. "I…I didn't realize that you may be here," she lied. "Are you testifying today?"
"Yeah. Well, that's the plan. Not sure when Caroline plans on calling me though."
"Caroline?"
"Caroline Julian? The prosecutor?"
"Ms. Julian. Yes, of course. I didn't realize how familiar you were with everyone."
"Well, we've worked together some. Get along pretty well. Well, that is until I took her office." He chuckled. In the crowd milling about the hallway, he located the frowning – recently displaced – federal prosecutor speaking with Deputy Director Cullen, Charlie and Mrs. Arrington.
This time, Brennan followed Booth's gaze. As she regarded them, Booth stole a moment to admire the beautiful scientist in profile.
Her nose crinkled in confusion. "You took her office?"
"Long story. Look, Dr. Brennan, I never had the chance to express my gratitude for your participation on the case – "
"Because during our last interaction, you unnecessarily manhandled me, and I vowed that I would never work with you again." Brennan turned backed to him, face painted with calculated dispassion.
Booth sighed.
And here's the hill to climb.
This was what he had expected. He didn't know her well, but he was certain that Temperance Brennan didn't make anything easy for anyone. He tried to read her. Her eyes were wide and wild and beautiful and her lips were curved into a brief, but apparent Cheshire smirk. He allowed himself to be taken momentarily by her defiant glare before he continued.
"I deserved that." He chuckled sheepishly, his nervous hands sliding from his pockets to his hips.
All of his seemingly random movements distracted Brennan. Unapologetically, her eyes travelled down to his well-formed mid-section, and although she was fully intent on devoting her gawk to the flat, well-muscled plane that teased from behind the crisp dress shirt and tie, it was the tie that caught her attention. She realized that what she had initially mistook as a random geometric pattern of white shapes that spilled into a pile at the base of the black tie, were – in fact – a rainfall of bones. She dipped her face to hide the grin betraying her face.
Booth hadn't noticed. "Look, I'd like to apologize for grabbing you like that, Dr. Brennan. I was out of lin-…what?" he inquired.
"Your tie." Without pause, she reached out to grab the blade of his tie, not realizing (or maybe so) that Booth was attached to it.
Brennan stepped closer to examine – with both hands – the tie while Booth stepped closer not to choke. And, while both of their heads immediately tilted down toward the tie, Booth's head shot up immediately for fear that he would drown in her. But it was too late, his nostrils were flooded with her scent and his head throbbed with the memory of that kiss had tormented him since. That visceral moment: how she tasted and felt in his grasp. That signature formula of vanilla, mint, tequila and… her…exclusively Temperance Brennan, mixed with the heady scent of petrichor in the evening air.
Many shots of tequila erased with that kiss. A kiss that sobered him up and intoxicated him all over again.
And, dammit she's that close again.
Attempting to look everywhere but down, Booth's face began to warm as he caught glimpses of amused and surprised looks from various corners of the courthouse hallway – Angela Montenegro's triumphant beam; Caroline's "I told you so" smirk; Zack's perplexed pout; Charlie's look of panic (as he tried to distract Director Cullen from the scene). Other faces observed the pair – unknown faces – men and women, alike, all seemingly interested in the draw between these two very handsome people. To Booth, he felt like all eyes were on them.
Except Cullen, thank God.
And Hodgins. Still focused out Angela's legs.
"While I can't be exact, there seem to be more skulls than there are skeletons that attach to them." She mumbled, engrossed with her count. "And proportionately, more long bones represented than anything else." She smoothed the tie against his chest as she returned her attention to his face.
Booth squirmed as her hand slid down his body. Unsettled, he gently grabbed her hand, momentarily forgetting his Strategy of Formality and Aloof Politeness.
"Bones! Will ya stop touching me?" he hissed. "People are watching!"
Surprised, she questioned "What?" Looking around, she saw no audience, but matched Booth's whisper. "I'm just trying to examine your olive branch! It's obvious that you want me to."
Gob smacked, he took the next few seconds to consider her meaning. He knew that she was mostly literal, and he had observed her failed attempts at metaphors. Now was not the time for him to misread her.
Or have her grabbing his "olive branch". Though admittedly, the thought had crossed his mind more than a few times.
Realizing that she had confused him, Brennan clarified. "I decided that I would be civil to you at least until after this project, should we encounter each other. After speaking with Angela, Dr. Goodman and Ms. Julian, I've come to acknowledge that I may have reacted in an equivalently immature and barbaric manner. And," she sighed, "were I to reflect upon the sum total of our interactions, I would find that you deserve the benefit of the doubt."
The begrudging sincerity of her disclosure charmed him. "I do? Yeah?"
"Yes!" she returned breathily. Eying him cautiously, she continued. "Angela went on to suggest that – given the chance – you would embrace the opportunity to apologize…to extend an olive branch. Am I incorrect that this skeleton tie is such a gesture?"
Booth relaxed. "The tie! Yeah! It is! Phew! For a minute there, I thought you were coming onto me." He blurted.
"What?" she scoffed.
"Well, you know…examining my 'olive branch'?" he whispered conspiratorially from the corner of his mouth. "You don't seem to be too good with the metaphors, and where your hand was going.…"
Finally, Brennan realized that she and Booth were still holding hands. She yanked her hand away as if Booth's was on fire. "What! That's ridicul-"
The doors of one of the courtrooms burst open. A flurry of people spilled out, while a rash of reporters charged toward them.
"Ms. Taffet! Ms. Taffet! Would you care to comment on the judge's ruling? Ms. Taffet! What impact will this have on future internet piracy cases?"
The frenzy of bodies swelled in the suddenly cramped space, and Brennan was pushed forcibly into Booth, who was in turned, slammed to the wall.
"Whoa! Hold on!" he warned as he cloaked her body with his massive arms. Brennan pressed into Booth, curiously peering over her shoulder to ascertain the scene unfolding behind her. Swarms of reporters crowded the hall all desirous to get a comment from the ginger-haired prosecutor.
"Fucking reporters" he snarled. "Can't stand them."
"Who's that?" Brennan husked against Booth's neck. He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to remain honorable as her body softened against his.
"Um, new federal prosecutor. I hear she's big on information protection crimes. Internet stuff. Kind of a loaner. Never worked with her. From what I hear, I'm not impressed. My gut tells me she's not my cup of tea."
Brennan snorted as the waves of reporters continued to flow toward the outer hallway, still not giving yield to her own personal space. She barely had space to lean back to look at the agent eye-to-eye. "Do you consistently take advice from your intestinal track?"
He couldn't resist growling at her. "Yes, Dr. Brennan. I do. My instincts have gotten me this far. I've survived more than a few tight spots."
Her eyes grew bright with curiosity. He took a dangerous step. "Do you know what they tell me about you?"
She bristled, mildly offended that he was about to insult her. "That I'm not you're cup of tea?"
Booth smiled sweetly. "Heh! Just the opposite Bones. They tell me that you're the real deal."
The flecks of honey in his eyes transformed to black as he stared her down. Though the fray had fanned out, Brennan found herself willfully frozen in the agent's arms as she tried to interpret his meaning. She placed her hands on his arms, slowly pushing away his right – the hand that had brutishly snatched her out of the FBI conference room. But his left hand – the hand that had so masterfully scaled the contours of her torso as their dueling tongues tangled with the rain, (albeit too briefly) - she let linger. This hand, she liked.
"You're brilliant and talented…and I would never be this close to putting Hasty away were it not for you and your team. Bones, you're pretty incredible, and you're due way better than my behavior illustrated. You deserve my respect and appreciation. And for that, I'm sorry for being a jerk."
"Oh" she eeked out, almost unwillingly. "I accept" she offered softly. "But don't call me Bones."
"Sorry." He chuckled back. "Dr. Brennan, please accept my apology."
It was then that he saw it in her eyes: she too was struggling with her memory of that evening. Though he had no doubt they would never be doing that again, he used it to his advantage. "Dr. Brennan. I-"
"Well! What do we have here?" piped the spirited federal prosecutor. "You two kissed and made up? Decided to go steady?" Caroline Julian had approached the pair, and was now centered in the very limited space that stood between the scientist and the agent.
Booth chuckled dismissively as Brennan quickly repelled away from Booth. "I don't want to have sex with him anymore." Brennan blurted, tugging at the base of her jacket.
Caroline's hmph-in-progress was halted as she caught up with the last phrase. "Anymore?" she sang. "Dr. Brennan, are you a writer?"
Confused by the question, Brennan looked first at Ms. Julian, then to Booth, then back to Ms. Julian. Responding thoughtfully, she stated "No. Well, I write articles for science journals, papers on research that I've done, materials for my students…"
Caroline smirked, mildly amused by the quirky scientist with the obvious crush. "Hmph, the way you put on, I believe you may have a successful career writing fiction ahead of you!" Shifting her sass toward Booth, she continued, "You must be losing your touch with the young ones, Agent Talk-Dark-and-Broody. I still love you, Cher."
"Caroline, stop!" Booth groaned while – with fascination – Brennan studied the colorful prosecutor.
"Get your game faces on Cheries. We're up next. We've got another ten or fifteen minutes before the courtroom airs out from the stench of that one." She motioned toward Federal Prosecutor Taffet.
"What? Is she not your cup of tea?" Brennan questioned, pleased that she had mastered the use of this new phrase so soon. Behind her, Booth rolled his eyes.
"Not one bit, Cherie. A dark cloud hangs over that one. Dr. Brennan could you get your people over here? Y'all are a whole new breed of nerd to deal with, I'd like to make sure they're prepared to give testimony."
"My people are prepared." Brennan defended with a whine. "We've given testimony several times before already, Ms. Julian."
"Not in one of my cases, Cherie. And none that you've won." She grumbled, rolling her eyes. "Now, get your people."
Sighing, Brennan turned noting that her cohorts were distracted by the throng of reporters still surrounding the other prosecutor. "Angela!" (nothing). "Zack!" (nothing). "Hodgins!" she called out, finally able to successfully get someone's attention. Hodgins acknowledged Brennan's call and rounded up his coworkers.
Incidentally, Brennan's call also caught the attention of Ms. Taffet, who watched as Hodgins, Zack and Angela moved towards Caroline. Although she was still speaking with reporters, her eye caught the heated glare from her colleague, who seemed none too pleased to offer her a reluctant nod of acknowledgement. Special Prosecutor Taffet nodded back with a brief smile, all the while her eyes surveying the klatch of people who began to surround The Alpha Prosecutor in the DOJ, especially one Dr. Jack Hodgins.
When Taffet looked away, Caroline's curt nod quickly transformed into a more genuine scowl. "Mauvaise nouvelle!" she hissed under her breath before turning to her gaggle of geeks. "Okay people, here's what's gonna happen…"
Obediently, the cop, the artist and the two and a half scientists gathered around to receive instructions from Caroline.
"Agent Booth? A word?"
Brennan turned to see a tall older gentleman summoning Booth, someone who she didn't recognize. It was the same man that she had seen speaking earlier with Mrs. Arrington. He was still speaking with the younger, shorter (approximate 167-170 cm. tall) man, with dark hair…perhaps she had encountered him before? Both appeared in standard issue FBI attire. The older man, Brennan assumed, was of some stature, as Ms. Julian excused Booth without protest.
As Ms. Julian spoke, Brennan couldn't help but be distracted by the attractive agent, though she told herself (and Angela later) that she was simply curious about the conversation. Even though she had taken firm and decisive steps to put her brief dalliance with Seeley Booth in her rear view mirror, being in each other's presence again – and so closely – was unsettling.
Further abetting her emotional swirl was the unexpected fits of excitement she felt as Agent Booth reciprocated with stolen glances of his own. Though he gave respectful attention to the two men with whom he was speaking, he seemed to be giving her equal attention. Each time Brennan peeked, she found his eyes on her, a circumstance which left her initially curious, then stimulated; then frustrated, and finally indignant.
By the time that Ms. Julian had finished providing whatever instructions that Brennan didn't hear, Booth's attentiveness had Brennan worked up into quite the lather. She liked to control her emotions, and this man was stirring up things in her that she had no intention of setting free. She needed to set Booth straight, to tell him that she had moved on. She, however, was unfortunately delayed as Booth set toward her with his two associates. She bit the inside of her lip to quell her mounting irritation, setting it aside for the next moment alone that she could get with him.
Dammit, she chastised herself as her imagination flashed a very physical, very sexual vision of a moment alone with him, contrary to her rational intentions.
Booth approached, a look of formality set in his eyes. "Dr. Temperance Brennan? I'd like you to meet Deputy Director Sam Cullen and Agent Charlie Burns."
She offered a reluctant hello. "Deputy Director Cullen, hello. Agent Burns? It's my understanding that you will be our point of contact in liaison with the FBI Forensics team on future projects?"
Booth's jaw dropped, surprised by the reveal. "Yes ma'am." Charlie stated shaking her hand, eyeing Booth nervously. "I look forward to our collaboration."
"I would expect that you would." Brennan affirmed.
"I have to say Dr. Brennan, based upon the feedback from Special Agent Booth, Ms. Julian, and yourself, I'm surprised that you didn't want to work with Agent Booth."
"I won't work with him again." Brennan stated plainly.
Cullen looked between the disappointed red-faced agent and the frumpy, but very attractive young scientist. "…and yet, you provided such a glowing recommendation in support of his promotion…?"
Again, Booth was surprised by the disclosure. He looked at Brennan, who would obviously have preferred that he not be aware of that fact.
"Yes. Although our work styles conflict, I find that Agent Booth is more than capable at his job, almost exemplary. He is an asset to the Bureau and deserves to be rewarded accordingly" she explained, turning to Agent Booth. "And it's my understanding that, with your new promotion, you will be working on more high profile projects?"
All eyes turned to Booth, who was still recovering. "Uh, yes ma'am. Cases, not projects. I'll be-"
"Come on people, it's show time!" Caroline called out.
Deputy Director Cullen chuckled. "Well, that's my cue. Dr. Brennan, the Bureau thanks you for your service, it's a pleasure to meet you. Booth, thanks for the introductions. Good luck to the both of you today. Burns? Let's go."
Brennan nodded as she again shook the hands of both agents. She smirked, feeling certain that she detected what could only be described as a glare and a cower between Booth and Agent Burns. Once the pair had turned into an adjoining hallway, Booth stepped toward Brennan.
"You vouched for me?"
Brennan fidgeted. "Yes."
"I don't know what to say, Bones, thank you. I-"
"Agent. Booth." Caroline's tone warned of waning patience.
"We should go." Brennan suggested, relieved by Ms. Julian's interruption. "Stop calling me Bones."
It was 4:22 PM. Booth had finished his testimony shortly after noon, but he had to stay. He needed to speak with Brennan. She had thrown him for a loop.
She vouched for me, but doesn't want to work with me. Does she maybe want to go out?
She said that she didn't want to sleep with me again, but maybe she was embarrassed by Caroline. Caroline does that.
Shit, I can't remember a bit of my testimony. Caroline didn't looked pissed though, I guess it was fine. Why did Bones have to sit right behind where Caroline was standing? There's something about this girl…
She liked the tie.
Heh, olive branch.
"Have you been here the whole time?"
Booth dropped his poker chip, startled by the interruption. Quickly picking it up, he gazed up to see her standing before him.
"Uh, yeah. I just wanted to see how things went with your testimony."
"Well, then why weren't you in the courtroom listening to it?" she questioned.
He explained, "Well, I had some calls to make back to the office." One of those calls was to his so-called buddy Charlie, who he reamed for the lack of heads up about the that Cullen had agreed to. Fucking Charlie.
"I see."
"Um, we were cut off before I could sincerely thank you for your kind words to the Bureau about me." Suddenly Charlie - his direct report - was a font of information about what had gone on over the past few weeks with Brennan, Goodman and Cullen, and the conditions of his promotion. "Charlie, uh, Agent Burns told me that you were very persuasive and supportive of my promotion."
Brennan stifled a smile. "Well, it was as I said before, you are effective at your job."
"But you don't want to work with me." He stepped toward her.
"No." she held her ground.
"I'm not sure if you were aware, but I had proposed a joint task force: a special unit of major crimes, FBI forensics and the experts at the Jeffersonian…"
"Yes, I'm aware of your proposal. You basically wanted to leverage the experts at the Jeffersonian as if we were some form of FBI science-themed secretarial pool. I would not sign off on that." She stepped toward him.
"Whoa. No, that was not my intent-"
"The idea had good bones, but I think it's just better if our scientists work with your scientists. Agent Burns can facilitate things administratively."
Booth chuckled.
"What?" she asked uneasily, not sure of what she had said that was humorous.
"Good bones."
"Yes, it's a metaphor."
"I know it's a metaphor. Like I said earlier, I didn't think you were so good at them. Leave it to Bones to be dead on with her metaphorical use of the word 'bones'."
Against her will, she smiled, letting him get away with calling her that name.
"So you accept my apology?"
"Yes. And you accept mine?"
"Yes. But you won't work with me?"
"No."
Booth grinned hopefully, taking another step toward her. Brennan copied the action.
"So you won't work with me," he slid his hands into his pockets. "Does this mean that I can take you out for a cup of coffee? Maybe a burger? Perhaps a nice dinner? No less than three courses, perhaps?"
Brennan smiled, crossing her arms. "So you still want to sleep with me?"
"Hey, I'm just offering a meal here Dr. Brennan," he licked his lips as his eyes dropped to hers. "who knows what happens next. Especially since you told Caroline that you didn't want to sleep with me anymore." He teased.
"Perhaps I misspoke." Her voice was raspy and she could feel her cheeks blush with arousal.
Booth stepped another step toward her. Only inches separated the pair.
How bad for my career would it be if I pulled her up against this wall? He wondered as his mind rapidly processed his knowledge of all the known rooms, alcoves and exits of the courthouse.
But in an instant, something changed in Brennan's posture. A flash of a thought that immediately evidenced itself on her face: guilt. She forced herself back from the magnetic draw of this man. "I'm sorry." She blurted, suddenly nervous about disappointing him. She never felt this way and she didn't like it.
"I'm seeing someone." she explained. "We have been dating for some time, quite successfully…"
"Oh!" Booth nodded, stepping away from her to a platonic distance. "I see. Well, cheers on that. I wish you two the best."
"Thanks." She mumbled, confused that she felt guiltier about not telling Booth sooner than she was about potentially cheating on the man that she just agreed to let move in with her. "I still would have like to have slept with you…"
Her awkwardness warmed him. He laughed, "I get it, I screwed up my chance." From his pocket, he pulled the poker chip, and tossed it in the air. "Whoever he is, he's a lucky guy."
"Thanks." Brennan offered sheepishly, pursing her lips.
"Well. I guess I should be heading back to the office now." He announced.
"Oh. Yes, okay. I suppose I will wait for my associates. It was good to see you Agent Booth."
"You too, Dr. Brennan." He extended his hand out to her.
Brennan looked at his hand, completely unsatisfied that this would be the close of their interactions. She slipped her soft hand into his and met his firm grip with her own. "If things don't work out…"
Booth's eyebrows raised in surprise. Brennan cursed herself, searching for a quick recovery. "I mean, with the arrangement with our teams…"
Booth nodded, certain that she was backtracking "Yes?"
"Yes, well. Should I direct any constructive feedback about our arrangement to Deputy Director Cullen, Agent Burns, or you?"
Booth smiled knowingly. "Let me speak with Cullen, Dr. Brennan, I'll get back to you on that."
"Okay, good."
"But know that you can call me anytime. Okay? I'd love the opportunity to see you, to work with you again." He handed her his card, his fingers lingering on her own before the transfer.
"Thank you." She said quietly, reaching into her jacket pocket to stow his card, and retrieve one of her own. "Let me give you mine-"
He held up his hands as he began to walk away. "No worries, Dr. Brennan. I've got your number."
A/N #2: Back in June, I had a conversation with someone about cursing somebody out in French Creole, and they shared the phrase: "Va-t'em, espèce de calyspon, va" with me. Now for the life of me, I can't find the notes if the phrase is 1) accurate and 2) WTF it means. Any help out there is appreciated!