Jane was dipping a tea bag to perfection when the handle of his cup broke. He looked at it with an air of fascinated horror as it crashed to the floor, sending shards and tea halfway across the office.
Lisbon sighed.
"Aren't you gonna clean up?" Rigsby said after a few seconds.
"That was my favourite tea cup," Jane said, staring at the handle still in his hand.
"There are more than twenty cups that are just the same in the cupboard," Lisbon said, putting a hand to her phone to mute her voice in case she finally got through. "Clean up and get a new one."
Jane waved a hand dismissively. "They're all cracked," he said.
Cho and Rigsby exchanged looks.
"That explains 'your' tea cup," Lisbon said. "And your mess. Clean it up."
"But it was my favourite," Jane insisted, on the verge of pouting. "I need to mourn, to come to grips with my devastating loss."
"Get a new favourite," Lisbon said exasperatedly. She grabbed the phone as someone finally answered and waved Jane away like he was an annoying bug.
Jane looked forlornly at the broken shards and the puddle of tea. He made a face and echoed, "Get a new favourite," in the most insolent tone he could manage (which was very insolent indeed) and strolled towards the kitchen.
Lisbon rolled her eyes.
Cho and Rigsby exchanged another look. Rigsby nodded.
The next day, Jane entered the office to find a box wrapped in newspapers on his beloved couch. When he finally sorted out the mess of paper and tape his fingers were smudged with ink, and there was a brand new ceramic mug in his hands.
Notes: In memory of my late favourite tea cup. (I really loved that tea cup.)