"You did what?" Mozzie asked Neal, a smile on his face.
"Don't look so smug." Neal answered, a smirk on his own face.
"So how'd you do it? I mean, it's not like you can just walk into a bank and take nine million dollars, cash, without anyone noticing." Moz asked, pouring a glass of red wine from a bottle on Neal's shelf.
"Is that my nine hundred dollar bottle of Italian port?" He asked, instead of answering Mozzie's question, and taking the glass from his hand and drinking it himself. He smiled as he took a sip.
"You did, didn't you. You walked in, took the money, and walked out." The shorter man's face broke into a wide smile.
"In broad daylight?" Moz continued.
"I kept my face off the camera's, the only one who could ID me is a guard who spends most of her time reading romantic novels. I'm good to go Mozzie." Neal answered, grinning broadly.
A sharp knock at the door made his smile drop, however. Both men glanced quickly around the room making sure that nothing incriminating was visible in Neal's small apartment. Assuring himself of this fact, Neal opened the door slowly.
"Hi Peter." He said brightly, pulling the door completely open when he saw the FBI agent. His face was lit up with fake cheer and his fingers rapped a bouncy rhythm on the door frame.
"Hello Neal. What did you get up to today?" Peter asked casually, but he could not get the FBI-interigator out of his voice enough for Neal not to pick up on it. Immediately both the con and his friend became defensive.
"Nothing. I thought the FBI didn't have any current cases that required my expertise?" Neal questioned innocently.
"We just caught a good one. Someone walked into a bank this afternoon and walked out with a little over nine million dollars in cash." Peter explained, looking around, possibly searching for nine million dollars.
"Is that so. Isn't that a case for the organized crime division?" Neal commented mildly.
"Usually, but there were some extenuating circumstances." Mozzie nodded his head like he had been in a similar situation recently.
"Like?" Moz asked, glancing out the window conspiritoraly.
"The suspect looked almost exactly like a certain fellon who works with the FBI." Peter answered. Neal and Mozzie shared a glance. Moz nodded.
"Sorry Peter." Neal said, grabbing the other man's arm and pulling them behind his back. With quick, practiced movements he handcuffed Peter with his own handcuffs. Neal sat him down on a dining chair and poured him a glass of wine.
Turing away, Neal grabbed two briefcases from under the sink. With a smirk at Mozzie, they walked out the door, leaving Peter staring after them, mouth agape.
"God, Neal. You robbed a bank. You messed this up." He said to the empty apartment.