Summary: Parker brings back souvenirs from the Vatican Museum.
F is for Fig Leaf
Eliot enters the office and, as is his habit, takes a quick, assessing look around to check the room for danger.
And double-takes on the pile of rubble on the coffee table in front of the extra-large TV screens, which are set to a news channel, some sci-fi movie with invading aliens, and cartoons.
He cautiously walks closer to the strange, dusty heap, keeping extra alert for the tripwires, floor switches, and beeping that might signal a bomb. In the background, a spaceship blows up New York City (it's always NYC, LA, Tokyo, London, or Paris with these movies, with maybe a side of an exploding Taj Mahal), Bugs Bunny sings Rossini while shaving Elmer Fudd, and a news anchor reports on some vandalism of antique art at the Vatican.
He edges closer, and sees –
Hold up.
What?!
Eliot scrunches up his face, perplexed, and takes a pen out of his pocket to poke at the pile. Stupid, he knows, but he has a feeling that this pile of what looks to be marble, plaster, and bronze leaves is harmless, if not rather puzzling.
He gives the top leaf a light jab, and it topples down the heap with a rattle and slides to the bottom of the hill onto the table with a small puff of dust.
"Parker!" he shouts. "What the hell is this?!"
Then he hears it.
"…priceless nude statues and paintings with exposed male genitalia were covered up with fig leaves or removed during the middle ages, from the papal reign of Pope Paul IV to the…"
He quickly grabs the remote and turns down "Kill the waaabbit" and Yankee Stadium exploding, and turns up the news channel.
"Among the affected artwork was Michelangelo's The Last Judgement, which had the offending areas painted over with shrubbery and drapery. Another was the ancient Greek statue, Hercules of the Theatre of Pompey, to which a bronze fig leaf was attached. However, as you can now see…"
The camera pans out and away from the reporter, and onto the statue, which is sporting…
And apple. A bright, red, shiny apple, which looks to be floating in midair in front of where the modesty-giving fig leaf ought to be.
Eliot drops his face into his hand and groans. "Parker."
. . . . . . . . . . . .
It turns out that not only had Parker stolen all the fig leaves from the statues at the Vatican Museum, she had also replaced each of them with a proportionately-sized apple, all very shiny and very red. In addition, she had stuck a bright red apple sticker (acid-free, of course) onto each of the fig leaves in previously altered paintings.
"But why, Parker?" is an often-heard question at headquarters (usually followed by "Never mind. It's Parker"), but that day, it is repeated many times over.
It turns out that she had taken one of Sophie's lectures about metaphorical forbidden fruit and sin as an example of temptation when talking about a con last week much too literally.
(Upon learning this, a collective "Sophie!" is heard.)
"I heard they actually took off what was supposed to be there before they even put the leaves on," Hardison shudders, "True or false?"
Parker bites into an extra-crunchy apple, unaware of the flinches by the three men around her. "Huh?"
"I mean, is there a pile of marble peni-"
Eliot waves his arms. "Whoa, just stop. Stop right there." He jabs a finger at the hacker. "Just no, Hardison. No."
"I need to know, man," Hardison protests, "Don't say you've never wondered if they castrated those poor dudes."
"Hardison!"
Nate rubs his head and thinks once again that God must be a sadistic bastard for making him suffer through this. He wonders if they'll ever canonize him for being such a martyr. He deserves it…doesn't he? Doesn't he?!
. . . . . . . . . . . .
AN: I don't know either. This just happened. I am so sorry.
That said, I tried to a little bit of googling about these fig leaves and what specific artwork has them and such. I'm no expert, though, so if anything is wrong, just let me know. And the answer to Hardison's question is true, at least that I could see in pictures.