I was looking at my hands the other day and I had a little moment. And thus - this was born.
"Do you know how amazing that is?" Neal said - looking at the palms of his hands with fascination. "That not a single solitary person has the same fingerprints as another person. No repeats – not ever!"
"Fascinating." Mozzie said shortly, rolling his eyes and pushing his glasses back with his index finger.
"Mozzie –" Neal said in slight annoyance, glancing at the shorter man. "It is more than fascinating. It's like a combination for a lock. Except instead of hundreds of possibilities – there are millions and billions… more than you can think of! Everybody in the world has their own fingerprint. There are no two the same."
"Which is why the Suits like fingerprints, Neal." Mozzie pointed out – wiggling his fingers for emphasis. "Makes it really easy to catch a guy when he leaves behind his calling card!"
Neal ignored him. "My hands are one of a kind." He mused absentmindedly. "They can never be reproduced." His lips curled into a small smile. "I'm rare. A priceless, irreplaceable piece of art."
Mozzie snorted. "They're just fingerprints, Neal."
"Yeah." Neal said – his hands clenching and unclenching into fists – his eyes watching with all the wonder of a child as the skin rippled over his knuckles. "But they are my fingerprints. And nobody else has them."
I was going to have this just be interactions between Peter and Neal - but this little bit came to mind and I had no place to put it except here. Oh well.
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