"Mozzie, he's dangerous."

"Yeah, I noticed when he pointed a gun at me!"

"I don't mean dangerous like that. OK, like that too. But dangerous as in smart enough to dig up all my skeletons, and yours too."

Neal was trying hard to convey the seriousness of the situation to his friend across the table, but Mozzie was preoccupied with the massive helping of oysters on his plate. Maybe they shouldn't have chosen this particular place for this conversation.

But options were limited, now that Siegel might come poking around June's house at any time and find Mozzie – a.k.a. the wanted, presumed dead, proprietor of Little Star Merchandize. They had agreed to meet at Grand Central Station instead, where Mozzie had immediately dragged Neal into his favorite oyster bar and commandeered a table where they could talk without being overheard.

(Mozzie had, naturally, also discreetly swept the place for bugs. Paranoia was the secret of longevity, after all.)

"Neal, I already know this. The Knock-Off Suit already dug up my most deeply buried and treasured skeleton! I'm lucky to still be around to enjoy these delicious oysters. Why aren't you eating?"

"Not hungry. It's like Peter chose a younger and hungrier version of himself to be my new handler. When we were chasing you – Teddy Winters – I had to watch myself around him every second. I felt he could pick up on every flicker of an eyelid that might betray me, or hear my heart beating faster."

"Neal, we're talking about Suit 2.0, not a vampire."

"Might as well be." Neal slumped dejectedly in his chair and pushed his plate away. "I have too many secrets to keep them all safe."

Mozzie narrowed his eyes at him. "I remember talking to you the evening after your first day with him. You actually seemed to like the new Suit then."

"I did, actually. Or maybe I was just relieved that he wasn't what I was afraid my new handler would be – a tyrant ready to implement draconian measures just to prove his power over me, like restricting my radius. Or a complete bore who stuck me at endless desk work and couldn't discuss anything more interesting than mortgage fraud case files or baseball. Siegel turned out to be someone I could both admire and like … and not many people deserve both."

"Neal, what have I told you?" Mozzie waved his fork around in frustration. "You can't just go around and like people for no reason! You need to keep your guard up!"

"Moz, I'm not stupid. Of course I did. Siegel could make my life very difficult, I'm not forgetting that. And he's keeping eagle eyes on me, checking my anklet a couple of times an hour. This assignment is probably a big step up in his career and he is determined to prove himself."

The first few, terrifying days with Siegel were over, the danger to Mozzie at least temporarily averted and Hagan's assignment completed (or was it?). Neal was trying to relax and allow himself to breathe. And found himself with time to analyze his new handler in detail.

The way he had burst into the Little Star building that day, for example, seriously pissed off. Neal had plenty of experience of being yelled at by authority figures. But the way Siegel then drew his gun in an instant and almost shoved it in his face – that had rattled him more than he would like to admit.

And his patronizing comment about the case not being over until the bad guy was in cuffs – although that hadn't stung nearly as much as Peter's ice cold remark about agents versus criminal informants.

Neal hastily shoved that thought away. He wasn't going to think about Peter and his hurtful behavior now. Maybe not ever.

"Anyway, sorry you can't come over to June's for a while, Moz. I'm expecting Siegel to come poking around any day now. I'm a bit surprised he hasn't already."

"I need to go find new safehouses anyway. And maybe now that I don't have an empire to run, I'll finally have time to shape up my bonsai. It's in a deplorable state."

Neal left him to it and returned home. In the hallway, he was met by his landlady who had a slightly worried look on her face.

"Neal, dear, that Agent Siegel you told me about is here. A nice young man."

"Thanks, June. I take it he's already upstairs?"

"I'm sorry. The FBI's housing agreement says your handler is to be allowed access to your apartment at any time. I tried to stall him, offer him coffee, but..."

"I know, it's OK. I had been expecting him anyway."

He winked at her and proceeded up the stairs. He had been careful to rid his home of anything potentially incriminating, but you never knew what accidental clues you left behind and anxiety was creeping up on him again.

The door to his apartment was open. His handler was out on the terrace, seemingly admiring the view. Neal glanced around hastily – nothing seemed to have been touched or out of place but he wouldn't put it past Siegel to have done a quick search of the place.

Neal leaned against the terrace door, shoved his hands in his pockets and hid his apprehension behind a tone of irony. "Agent Siegel. Sorry I wasn't here to welcome you."

The agent turned around with a smirk. "That's all right. Nice place you've got here. Heard you picked it up in a thrift shop."

"You could say that. Find anything interesting?"

"Why, you keep something in here you shouldn't?"

"Does unpasteurized dairy count?"

"Not if you cook something good with it."

"I actually just had dinner."

"At Grand Central Station?"

Damn that anklet and nosy Feds. "Oyster bar. Best in town. You should try it."

"I'm more of a pizza man myself. Where's that little friend of yours?"

A chill went down Neal's spine and raised the hairs on the back of his neck. "What friend?"

Siegel leaned against the balustrade with an air of nonchalance, but his eyes were fixed on Neal. "Peter tells me you have a buddy who hangs around here and makes it his mission to drink all your wine and come up with new conspiracy theories."

"His conspiracy theories apparently took him elsewhere tonight." Neal shrugged. "Can I offer you something? Beer, wine...?"

"No thanks, I have to get going. Just wanted to stop by and see your place. I'm sure I'll get to meet your friend some other time."

"Well, you're welcome any time." Neal hoped that sounded sincere. Failing that, sarcastic was good too. Anything but slightly confused and panicked, which was how he was feeling.

Siegel smiled at him as he walked past on his way to the door. A smile that was impossible to interpret.

"Not convincingly sincere, Neal, but that's understandable. Points for trying."

Thanks everyone for your lovely reviews! So encouraging! A couple of more chapters on this coming up soon.