Jane was casually strolling the halls after lunch, when he passed Lisbon's office. Studying her through the blinds, he immediately noticed there was something different about her. Perhaps to the casual eye she appeared to be hard at work as always, looking through the contents of one of the many manila folders that had become a regular feature of her desk. But to Patrick Jane's sharp, ever-observant gaze, there were now a score of differences: although she was leaning forward, her forearms resting on the desk as she worked, her shoulders weren't hunched over, nor were the muscles bunching together. Slipping quietly into the room, hands in his jacket pockets, he also noticed that the little stress line between her eyebrows was gone, leaving her beautiful face smooth and youthful, and she wasn't grumbling to herself or clenching her jaw.

Most noticeable, however, was the glaring absence of the stacks of files, and upon a closer look, he realized that even as she worked, she actually seemed to be enjoying herself.

He took his usual place on the sofa, and let his eyes slide to not-quite-shut, listening absently to her work. After a couple of minutes, she chuckled to herself, a very soft, throaty hum, and through his half-closed eyes he saw a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

"Something funny, my dear?"

"Hmm? Oh, no. Not really," she replied a bit distractedly, though the small smile remained. She continued to work, and after a couple more minutes he heard that low, almost silent chuckle again as she laughed to herself, and her smile grew a fraction.

Now his blue eyes opened fully. "I wasn't aware the complaints against me were so amusing."

"Ohhh, I'm not doing complaint files, Jane," she stated easily, a touch of laughter coloring her voice. "Actually, I'm doing some mid-year performance evals," she said, not looking up.

"And those you do enjoy?" he probed, always eager to know more about her, no matter how trivial.

"Mm-hmm," was her only response, then she went quiet again.

Jane also remained silent, leaving Lisbon to her other work, his brain processing this new bundle of information. Lisbon was still at her desk, still working, so not everything had changed, but something had shifted; the differences were practically screaming at him now.

Her body language, while still professional, was definitely more relaxed, her line-free face definitely softer, lovelier than before…were her eyes actually sparkling more? And yes, he decided, her desk was less cluttered. She'd just said she wasn't doing complaints right now; was she not doing them at all anymore? And if she wasn't, who was? He wasn't sure he liked the idea of someone besides Lisbon doing 'Jane-complaints'; what if whoever was reading them didn't get him, like Lisbon did?

Jane frowned. All these unknowns were making him feel very…disconcerted, unsettled. That wouldn't do, he decided, so he swiftly got up from the couch.

"Time for a cup of tea," he announced as he walked out the door, not bothering to wait for Lisbon's reply.

Jane made his way down the hall to the kitchenette. Walking in, he saw it was empty save for a young woman he'd never seen before at CBI, sitting in the corner, an elbow on the table, resting her jaw in her palm. She was pretty, but unremarkable: early to mid-twenties, around five-foot-six, a long-sleeve charcoal turtleneck and knee-length leather skirt adorning her slender figure. A pair of high-quality imitation leather boots completed the attempt-at-looking-expensive-on-minimum-wage look. Lightly streaked, glossy dark hair was pulled up into a high, sporty ponytail, a fringe falling in wisps in front. She paid him no attention as he walked to the counter.

As he waited for the water to boil, and picked out a flavor to calm his unpleasantly-jangled nerves, he replayed the last few minutes in Lisbon's office. He was interrupted briefly when the kettle whistled. Picking up his tea, he approached the table.

"Hello," he said politely. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

She smiled prettily, though not flirtatiously. "Not at all."

He smiled back. "I hope you don't mind my intrusion, it's just that I know most of the faces around here; I don't recall having seen you before."

"Oh," she exhaled in relief, "I don't mind at all. Actually, I could use the break. I had no idea this job was going to be so mentally taxing." She reached for the coffee mug steaming a few inches from her hand and took a long sip.

"What job is that?"

She finished her sip and replaced the mug.

"Well," she began, "officially I am the 'SCU Unit Assistant'," she declared. "I'm sort of a pseudo-secretary; I don't get coffee, and I don't take memos," she explained, with a hint of self-deprecation.

"I wasn't aware the SCU had a secretary," Jane said.

"They didn't, until recently," she replied. "I'm pretty sure it's a new position."

"Ah, I see."

"I'm sorry. I'm Cassie, Cassie Dolinsky," she held out her hand. Jane reached across the table and shook it courteously.

"Nice to meet you," he replied. "Welcome to CBI."

"Actually, I was hired as secretary for this particular unit only. To be more specific I was hired as assistant to the team leader, Agent Lisbon; Agent Minelli thought it might be beneficial to split up her workload, which," she indicated the not-so-small stacks of files surrounding her at the small table, "as you can see, is quite heavy," she chuckled.

His brows rose in comprehension as one aspect of the troublesome mystery was answered, but he showed no other reaction.

"Well, that was very thoughtful of Agent Minelli," he commented diplomatically. Jane wondered why Virgil would bring in a civilian temp to do Lisbon's work. It irked him slightly; for one thing, Lisbon wouldn't be nearly as grumpy anymore with the decreased stress (and an un-grumpy Lisbon wasn't nearly as fun to tease), and second, the quiet sound of Lisbon working, and occasionally muttering to herself, was one of the few soothing, comforting sounds in his world. And now it wouldn't be there anymore? Yes, very irksome.

"Thoughtful, nothing!" she retorted with a small laugh. "Most of what I've been assigned to handle has to do with one of Agent Lisbon's team, a very obnoxious, unpleasant woman from the looks of it."

"Oh, really?" Jane prompted, curiosity lifting an eyebrow. He might have thought of Grace as idealistic maybe, naïve in the extreme, yes, certainly considering her devout belief in afterlives and séances, but he'd never thought of her as obnoxious. To Jane, she was pleasantly, amusingly gullible.

"Who might that be?" he asked, lifting his tea to his lips and taking a sip.

"I don't know, Jane something," she answered, reaching for another file. "There's no mention of a last name. It just says 'Jane'."

Working intently to suppress the choking reflex, Patrick called on every biofeedback trick he had to keep from reacting in any strange or telling way. He calmly continued sipping his tea, careful to give nothing away. Deliberately breathing in and out, he maintained his neutral curious expression as he held his teacup.

When he said nothing else, Cassie took that as an invitation to continue.

"Seriously, I don't know how this woman got or managed to keep her job here; I only just started late this morning, but I've already read through twenty or so complaints against her," she looked at Jane directly in emphasis. "And those were just from the last three days!" she exclaimed.

"Goodness," Jane replied seriously. "Twenty, huh? Is that bad?" He didn't think so; he actually though he'd been behaving quite well that week.

Cassie regarded him from beneath her lashes.

"I think it isn't good," she opined. She shook her head. "But it's not just the sheer number of complaints; it's the outrageous stuff this…Jane does. Listen to this," she flipped open one file.

"'Jane was disrespectful and insulting towards wealthy husband of murdered woman'," she recited, then set it down. She then picked up another one.

"'Jane tricked victim's sister into thinking she was a suspect in his murder, simply to gauge reaction'…'Consultant Jane switched nearly a quarter million dollars of gangster's money'…'Jane provoked one sibling into turning in the other, again, to test reaction, knowing neither was actually guilty'…'Jane picked the lock of missing woman's front door even though it was a crime scene'…" she trailed off.

"I could go on, but they are all pretty much the same thing; Jane routinely lies to suspects, victims' families, other police, she antagonizes rich people, presumably for no other reason than a cheap thrill," Cassie shook her head. "For just a consultant, Jane seems to use the CBI as her own personal playground," she said disdainfully.

"That sounds terribly childish, and unprofessional," Jane remarked in disapproval.

"It is, it's very childish," Cassie agreed. "It's not just the people they investigate or interview whom she messes with; there are complaints here from other agents! And not just Agent Lisbon's people, either; Jane seems to take great delight in being, well, a 'prankster', or the 'class clown'." She took a breath and let it out.

"She steals from agents' desks, among other things, their phones, their food, she constantly switches the coffee over there," she nodded towards the counter, "pouring half of the regular into the decaf and vice-versa, and she sometimes switches the coffee bags with tea, which apparently no one but she drinks, just to watch peoples' reactions."

"Mm, mm, mm," Jane shook his head.

"Also, she doesn't limit herself to childish pranks, unfortunately," Cassie lamented. "According to some of these, she messes with people's heads too. All the time."

"Really? How?"

"Well, judging from what I've read, Jane is extremely intelligent, freakishly so. Seems she used to have a career as some sort of clairvoyant or psychic, and now she uses mind tricks, reverse psychology, even hypnosis!" she laughed in disbelief. "On her co-workers! State agents! Can you believe that?"

"Shameful," he said, taking another sip. "Unconscionable."

"Tell me about it. Like I said, I can't believe this woman is able to keep her job as a consultant to law-enforcement. How she has managed to not get fired or…or shot is…" she trailed off.

"A mystery," Jane supplied helpfully.

"Exactly. I promise you one thing, though: when I finally meet this Jane," Cassie said disdainfully, "I might just have to give her a piece of my mind," she declared, reaching for her coffee mug and draining it.

"I'll tell you something else, too. I don't care how smart she is, or even if she's, you know," she tapped her head conspiratorially. "She is not going to play any mind games with me or trick or manipulate me! You can bet on that."

Cassie then looked at her watch.

"I have to be getting back; I'm sure Agent Lisbon will have received a whole new stack of complaints for me." She stood and gathered her stuff from the table.

"Yes, back to the salt mines," Jane said amiably. "I'm sure you'll do fine here, Cassie. You seem like a very bright, astute young woman. Agent Lisbon is lucky to have you helping her."

"Thank you. I'm happy to be able to. She certainly looks like she needs it, with her consultant running amok. Well, it was nice talking to you; I'm sure we'll run into each other again," she smiled, and headed out of the kitchenette.

"Hmm, no doubt," Jane said politely over his shoulder. He sat there a moment after Cassie left, then got up to refresh his empty cup. Fresh tea in hand, he retreated back to his leather couch. He mulled rewinding his steps back to the white couch; after all, wasn't a relaxed, happy, smiling Lisbon preferable to a grouchy, irritated, blunt object-heaving Lisbon?

Logic certainly dictated as much. Logically, he should be pleased as punch that his boss's workload would now be significantly lighter, that no longer would she be constantly bombarded with paperwork that said "Complaint against Patrick Jane" on it. She would be less privy to the fruits of his schemes, and as a result would be less tempted to kick his couch, whack him in the arm, or tweak or punch him in the nose anytime in the future. Yes, Teresa Lisbon would now have less of his mess to deal with, leaving her more time to devote to her 'actual job', as she, no doubt, would eloquently put it; maybe even pursue a life outside the office. Yes, logically, a more relaxed, less tightly-wound Lisbon would certainly make for a more productive unit.

But sinking back onto his couch, the unpleasant disquiet of the office now little more than a distant buzz, he immediately dismissed that idea; they already closed more cases than anyone else, thanks to him. And as for logic? Well, no one had ever accused Patrick Jane of thinking or behaving so; as selfish as it may be, a calmer, more laid-back Lisbon would be bor-ring. So, staring at the ceiling, he began planning, hatching a nice, clandestine little plan to keep Lisbon, and therefore the office, just the way she was.

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