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Neal stared back at the man in complete shock. He'd never been caught before. He'd never even thought about being caught before. He was too good. No one so much as flinched when he dug his hands into their pockets and looted their goods. At least, not until now.
Neal watched with wide eyes as the man ripped his wallet out of the boy's shaking hand and placed it back in his pocket, but he didn't release Neal from his grip. Instead, he dragged the kid closer to him. Neal swallowed nervously.
"Sir, I'm really sorry," he managed in a chocked voice. His head was spinning. This guy was going to call the cops. He was going to have him arrested. He was going to go to prison or juvie or wherever they sent fifteen-year-old dropouts who got caught pick pocketing.
"You're sorry?" the man questioned, and Neal was surprised to hear a hint of amusement in his voice. "For what?" Neal blinked back in confusion. "For trying to rob me or for getting caught?" With that, the stranger released his grip on Neal's wrist and folded his arms across his chest.
For a moment, Neal contemplated running, but the look on the man's face told him he would chase after him. Finally, he raised his eyes and offered the most apologetic look he could muster. "Both, I guess," he said with a shrug.
The man narrowed his eyes, sighed, and shook his head. "Come on," he said in a stern enough tone that stopped Neal from questioning him. To Neal's surprise, the stranger clasp a hand on his shoulder and directed him through the crowd of people until they made their way to a car parked at a meter outside the plaza.
"What…?" Neal started to question, but the man had dropped his hand from his shoulder and was now holding the passenger side door open. He waited expectantly while Neal looked back and forth from the open door to the crowd of people only a few yards away. He wanted nothing more than do disappear back into that crowd.
"Hop in," the stranger finally told him. Neal bit his lower lip. He was fairly certain his parents had never taught him anything about stranger danger, but he had seen enough episodes of Law and Order to know that you weren't supposed to get into cars with strange men.
"Look, like I said, I'm really sorry, but it's getting late, and my parents are going to be wondering where I am," Neal said innocently. The man didn't need to know that his father most likely wouldn't realize if he didn't turn up for days.
"Oh. Well, if you want, I can always just call them and tell them where you've been today," the man said with a shrug. Neal's face burned. As absent as his father was, Neal knew he would kick his ass if he ever found out his son had gotten caught picking pockets. If not for the act itself, then definitely for getting caught doing it. With a sigh, Neal slid into the passenger seat of the car. The door closed lightly behind him, and seconds later the man got in beside him. Neal could only hope that the man sitting next to him wasn't a deranged serial killer. Although, that seemed to be the direction this was headed.
It took Neal a few moments to realize that the stranger had started the car, but they had yet to drive away. Instead, the man's attention was intently focused on Neal. The kid stared quizzically back at him. He'd already gotten into a car with the complete stranger, what more did he want?
"You gonna put your seatbelt on?" the man asked, answering Neal's unspoken question. Immediately, Neal turned around, pulled down the contraption, and clicked it into place. At last, the car pulled away from the curb and they headed down the busy New York street.
The drive was silent. Which only made it easier for Neal to imagine all of the possibilities of the trouble he was about to find himself in. To his dismay, each scenario he came up with ended with either his death or his imprisonment. He couldn't say he was crazy about either of the two options, which soon led him to conjuring up as many methods of escape as possible.
Unfortunately for him, the car had picked up speed and was no longer stuck in bumper-to-bumper city traffic. Now, it sped quickly by parks and townhouses. The possibility of escaping from the moving car uninjured seemed more and more unlikely by the second. Whatever this guy had planned for him, Neal supposed he was just going to have to wait and see what it was.
"Here we are," the man finally announced as they pulled into the driveway of one of the houses. Neal looked up at the beautiful suburban home in surprise. This was hardly the abandoned warehouse or threatening police station he had been expecting.
"And where is here exactly?" he questioned slowly. The man laughed, turned the car off, and opened his own door.
"Just come inside," he said in amusement.
Neal sat in the passenger seat for a few moments, contemplating his two options: lock himself in the car and call the police or follow the stranger into his rather harmless looking home.
The man was waiting for him on the front walkway, and he motioned for Neal to get out of the car when the eyes met. Trying not to think too much about the definite threat to his own life, Neal decisively got out of the car and joined the man on the walkway.
The two made their way to the front door, which the man unlocked, and headed inside. A large yellow Labrador greeted them at once. He bypassed his owner and instead went to meet the unfamiliar teenage boy. Neal dropped down to one knee and received the dog with pets and scratches. The lab wagged his tail happily and looked to his owner as if to tell him he approved of his new friend.
"What's your name?" the man asked, and the dog trotted over to him at the sound of his master's voice.
"Neal," Neal said in a shakier voice than he intended. He stood up and did his best to look intimidating. The man hardly seemed phased.
"Neal what?"
"Neal Caffrey," Neal answered reluctantly.
"Have you ever hurt anyone, Neal?" the man asked. His voice sounded as serious as his expression looked. Neal blinked in surprised at the question. This stranger had dragged him into his car and driven him to god knows where, and he was asking Neal whether or not he had ever hurt someone.
"No, sir," Neal answered slowly.
The man relaxed, and his serious expression turned to a genuine smile. "Good," he said with a nod. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"
"Dinner?" Neal repeated in shock. That's what this was all about? The man wanted him over for dinner.
"Yeah. Dinner," the man answered matter-of-factly. "My wife always makes way too much, and you look like you could use something to eat."
"But why…" Neal started.
"Why didn't I call the cops?" the man finished for him. Neal nodded. It was a fair question, after all. The man smiled and reached into his suit pocket. He pulled out a leather case and handed it to Neal. At first, Neal thought it was the man's wallet, but when he opened, it realized just how much of a mistake he had made by trying to pick pocket the man.
"Agent Peter Burke?" he read off the badge in his hands.
"The one and only," the agent said, taking the badge from Neal and putting it back in his pocket.
Neal shook his head, still struggling to understand exactly what was going on. "So what?" he asked. "You're going to have me for dinner and then arrest me?"
Burke laughed and shook his head. "No. I'm just going to have you over for dinner. Like I said, my wife always makes too much, and it definitely wouldn't kill you to eat some pasta."
"You're not going to arrest me?" Neal questioned slowly.
"I'm not going to arrest you."
"I really wish you would have told me that in the first place," Neal mumbled.
"Where's the fun in that?" Burke laughed. "The bathroom's upstairs. Why don't you go wash up? I'll let my wife know you'll be joining us."
"Thanks, Agent Burke," Neal said, still in shock by the whole situation. He had relaxed significantly at the sight of the man's badge. At least he knew he wasn't going to be murdered. Although, he still wasn't sure the man didn't have plans to arrest him.
"Please, call me Peter."