"What're these?"

"What d'you mean, what are they? You know a cannoli when you see one, don't ya?"

"Yeah, I do. So what the heck is this?"

"Just eat it, Giovanni!"

"Your Ma didn't make these, did she?"

Jane was starting to turn red. She thrust the plate in his hands and said, "She taught me, and I made them. I don't care if they taste like car oil, you still owe me! I let you cheat off my history test—and I bet you've never gotten a mark so good in all your life!"

Giovanni rolled his eyes and shrugged, taking a bite of one cannoli. His features pinched as the dessert went down, and when it looked as though he might start to cry, Jane felt a little bad for having bullied him into eating it. He was a good-natured guy most of the time; it wasn't his fault she didn't know how to bake. She expected him to drop the plate once he swallowed. Instead, he looked back down, shrugged again, and continued eating. She laughed to herself as he started walking towards one of the nicer cars in the garage, gesturing for her to follow.

"This just came in today," he said, reading the card next to it.

Jane's mouth dropped. "Is that—?!"

"A Maserati 3500 GT? Yes, ma'am."

"I haven't ever seen one of the ones they mass-produced. Only pictures from the races," Jane said, reverently running her hand along the top of the car. It was off-white in color, and as far as Jane was concerned, it might have just rolled out of heaven …were it not for three long scrapes in the paint that ran down the side. "You poor baby," she whimpered, hugging the car as best she could. "Who did this to you?"

"The owner's kid brother," Giovanni said, reading the report that was hung next to the car. "Hey, we go to school with this guy, don't we? Garrett Fairfield?"

At the name, Jane shoved herself away from the car. "He owns this thing?"

"I'm thinkin' his daddy paid for it, and he's probably the one payin' for the repair, too."

"His brother took it out for a joy-ride, huh?"

Sumner hadn't been alone. When Jane got home, it was to hear Frank in one of his rare rages, and rarer still, he was taking out his anger on Tommy. It seemed that the previous night, Sumner and Tommy had taken off with Garrett's car while the latter had been having dinner at a friend's house. Sumner had just gotten his license last month but Tommy didn't know the first thing about driving—which was a poor explanation for why Sumner had agreed to let him try his hand at the wheel. The damage could have been much worse, but that defense didn't hold up very well to Frank.

Jane tip-toed past the living room where this fighting match was going on, caring to listen from a distance. Mr. Fairfield had said they were lucky he hadn't called the police to inform them the car had been driven by a kid without his license. He expected the Rizzoli's to pay for the repairs, a notion that Tommy had called ridiculous when Mr. Fairfield earned enough money in less than half an hour to pay what Gilberti was charging. That wasn't the point, Frank yelled, the point was responsibility and respect for other people's property. From what Jane understood, her father was paying for the damage upfront, and Tommy was to work off the money to pay him back.

"…and I think it goes without saying that you are grounded, Thomas, you hear me? Starting tonight. When you're not in school, you're here."

"But Pop," Tommy said, and Jane and Frankie exchanged a look in the kitchen, knowing this wasn't going to end well. "The fair's this weekend and—"

"What? There's a fair this weekend? Well, hold everything!" In his tone, Jane recognized her own sarcastic drawl. "You put me out more than fifty bucks and you coulda killed somebody driving without a license—but hey! There's a fair! And let me guess, you made a pie for it, right?"

"I was g—I was gonna take Maura, she's excited about it."

"I don't give a damn what this girl wants! You shoulda thought of that before you made a jackass out of yourself, you little punk! Your Ma lets you get away with too much, you know that? I'm the head of this family, and you will respect what I say, understand?" A short silence passed . "Thomas Anthony Rizzoli! I asked if you understood me!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Then get up to your goddam room!"

Jane and Frankie listened with bated breath as they heard Tommy race upstairs, and the sound of his door closing was followed by the slam of the front door. It was safe to presume Frank had stepped out. Jane slumped over the kitchen table, clasping her hands together and muttering, "Jesus Christ. Help."

Frankie let out a loud exhale. "That was pretty rough."

"What happened?"

He shrugged. "You heard. Tommy told me about it, though. Said they'd been on a back road, where there wouldn't have been any chance of hitting anybody, or running into anything. Well, anything but some guy's fence, I guess."

"Frankie, it was a Maserati."

Frankie's eyebrows went up and he whistled. "No wonder Mr. Fairfield was so pissed!"

"Yeah, Pop, too. I haven't heard him lose it like that in a while."

"You shoulda heard him earlier," Frankie said, frowning even more deeply.

"Why, what happened?"

"Well, you know, he was already in a foul mood on account of what Tommy did to Fairfield's car, but then Ma—"

"Oh, geez."

"Ma starts laying into him about his poker debts. Saying how if he wouldn't gamble so much, we could have more money around the house to cover stuff like this. So you know Pop, he goes off on one of his spiels about how he needs those games and those guys, and how Ma doesn't know the kinda stuff they all went through together…"

Jane sighed and leaned back in her seat. She often found herself siding with her father when arguments of this type came up: it was true, none of them had any idea the kinds of things their soldiers had seen and experienced in the war. Who were they to butt in and say how those men, those heroes, could or should spend their hard-earned time and money? But on the other hand, Jane couldn't help feeling a little sorry for Tommy. He'd been looking forward to this fair all month, often stopping by the grounds to watch as various tents and the Ferris wheel went up. For a boy so hell-bent on growing up fast, his excitement about the fair was childlike and kind of cute.

Maura had certainly been charmed by it, Jane noticed.

"Where's Ma?" she asked.

Frankie nodded towards the living room. "She's still here."

Jane got up and walked out of the kitchen, stopping to look into the living room. Angela was sitting on the couch, a book open in her lap, but she wasn't looking at it. Once Jane had been standing there a while, Angela turned to look at her, and offered her a weak smile. Jane tried to smile back, and she felt at least a little solidarity when Frankie came over to join her.

"Hi, Janie," Angela said in a cracked voice. "How was your day?"

"Okay," Jane sighed. Suddenly she remembered telling her mother that she and Joey had split up last night. "Uh… considering. You know."

Angela nodded to herself. "You wallow as much as you need, honey."

"Yeah, I thought I might go wallow a bit at Murray's tonight. Maybe go for an egg cream."

"All right. You should. You go do that, Janie."

Frankie raised an eyebrow at Jane, and she led the way up the stairs. "I kinda told Ma that Joey dumped me last night," Jane said. "That's not exactly true, but I wouldn't be sorry if it was." She knocked on the door of Tommy and Frankie's room, then walked in. Tommy was lying on his back on his bed, and didn't look away from the ceiling when his siblings came in. "Hey, tough break about the fair, kid," Jane said.

"Thanks for rubbing it in," he huffed.

"No really, Tommy, I'm sorry. I know how bad you wanted to go."

"Badly."

"What?"

"Badly." He sighed and turned on his side, away from Jane. "That's what Maura would say if she was here."

"Son of a gun, so it is. Geez, Tommy, she turned you into a grammar freak, too? One of them's bad enough, I don't need two on my tail!" When Tommy did not respond to this, Jane put a hand on his shoulder and sighed. "Look, T, was she really gonna go with you?"

"Well I didn't get a chance to ask her officially," Tommy said. "But we'd talked about it and it was pretty much a done deal!"

"Rotten luck, Tommy," Jane said. "Well, we'll keep an eye on her at the fair for ya, don't worry."

Tommy sat up at that, looking offended. "You guys are gonna go?!"

"Well yeah," Jane snorted. "Of course we are. We aren't grounded."

"T, look at it this way," Frankie said. "You've done something me and Jane have never done, and probably aren't ever gonna have a chance to do. You were behind the wheel of a Maserati. Sure you screwed it up, but still. That's more than me and Jane'll ever be able to say."

A few minutes later, Jane left Frankie to do more of the comforting. She had a date to keep. Well, sort of. For all the time she spent getting ready, it may as well have been a date. Chewing a stick of gum for some minty breath, she hummed to herself as she started combing through her hair, pulling it back. She borrowed a little of the gel Frankie liked to use, running it uneasily through her tangles in hopes of quelling the frizz at least a bit. Jane had noticed that on days when Maura wore eyeliner, her eyes really did seem to pop, and she wondered if it would have the same effect on her. Doubtful but curious, she borrowed some of her mother's and spent a good deal of time applying it.

Huh. Not bad. She glanced at the clock. Crap, I'm late!

As Jane booked it for Joey's garage, Maura checked her watch. She was standing on the corner of a somewhat seedy looking intersection, the names of which she had checked three times against the note she had clutched in her hand: meet me on the corner of Thompson and Revere at 8:00. –J

Not that it had needed the initial. Jane had been walking down the hall with a couple of girls Maura didn't know, while Maura was passing by with Sumner. As they crossed paths, Maura had waved, and Jane had tossed her the folded scrap of paper. Maura had almost dropped all her books in the effort to catch it (one wound up falling to the floor, and Sumner dutifully picked it up), and she'd been smiling ever since. Nobody had ever passed her a note before.

It was five after eight when she saw a familiar figure roaring down the road on a motorcycle. She stuffed the note into her purse, not wanting Jane to tease her (even in good spirits) about having held onto it. This time around, Jane's stop was much smoother, and she dismounted with a touch of pride.

"How's that?" she asked, smirking and folding her arms.

"You're a master, Miss Rizzoli."

Jane chuckled and nodded at her. "Well thank you, Miss Isles. You look mighty lovely this evening, I might add." Not that that's a novelty.

Maura's dress was light pink gingham, the same shade of the solid cardigan covering it. As usual, she represented the very utmost level of femininity, and could not be a more direct contrast to her friend: the boots, borrowed leather gloves and jacket were back. Her shirt was black also, and was tucked into a surprisingly clean pair of midnight blue jeans. Jane rubbed her neck, feeling self-conscious as Maura stared at her.

"I guess maybe I look kind of funny in this get-up, don't I?" she asked.

"No," Maura said. "Actually, I was admiring your eyeliner. I don't think I ever noticed how beautiful your eyes are."

"C'mon, really?"

Maura managed a smile. "You're gorgeous, my friend."

Jane hadn't ever heard something like that in her life.

Well okay, that wasn't entirely true. Joey said she was beautiful, but Jane was pretty sure that was only because she agreed to make out with him. Giovanni had said she was a looker, but he said that about every girl he saw. A man had whistled at her once on her way to see Frost, and she'd thrown a rock in his direction.

Nobody had ever called her gorgeous in that kind of reverent tone, like they were in awe of it but also wanted Jane to know it and to feel it. That she was beautiful. Maura looked shy about having said it, and they stood in awkward silence for a moment, Jane's hands stuffed into her back pockets as she tried to think of a reply.

"Even…like this?" she asked, gesturing to her apparel.

"Especially like that."

"Will you tell my mother that?" Jane asked, laughing as she stepped closer to Maura. "She thinks I'm some kind of… I dunno what, but 'gorgeous' sure never comes up."

"It should." Oh gosh, Maura, just stop talking! You can't lie; that doesn't mean you have to go around spouting every thought that occurs to you. You're making her uncomfortable! Just change the subject. "Incidentally, Jane, I was wondering what inspired you to want to meet here."

"I wanna show you something," Jane said, leading the way up the street. She headed towards what Maura had to admit was the nicest-looking building on the otherwise shabby block, and warily walked in when Jane held the door open for her.

"You brought me to a pool hall?" Maura asked, shocked.

"Hey, don't say it like that! Besides, it's billiards. That's the fancy name for it, isn't it?"

Yes, but the joint wasn't too fancy itself. None of the illustrations on the walls were framed, the carpet looked stained, and none of the tables were being used. The only patrons of the place were all sitting at the bar, leaning towards a radio and yelling at it. Frank's friend McNally was the bartender, and he waved at Jane before quickly returning his attention the fight being broadcast. Maura looked around in concern as Jane walked over to the farthest pool table.

"Are we allowed to be here?" she asked.

"Sure. My Pop's friend helps run this place," Jane said, picking up a pool cue and chalking the tip. "I come by all the time to work on my game."

"Your mother doesn't take issue with it?"

"What my mother doesn't know doesn't hurt her," Jane muttered. "Now, for the record, I wanna ask you something. Ever played billiards before?"

"No."

"Damn."

"Jane!"

"Sorry, uh, shucks. I'll have to teach ya."

"Why?"

"I sort of made a bet with Tommy."

"About me?"

"Yeah. He said he bet you'd never done something as un-ladylike as step into a pool hall, and he said he'd pay me three bucks if he ever saw you sink a ball."

"I feel like I should be offended you two have been betting on me."

"You should take it as a compliment. Now I don't know about you, but I can't afford to lose three bucks, so you're gonna have to learn this fast."

"You're going to teach me?"

"Yeah. C'mere, grab a cue stick." Jane chuckled at Maura's expression, which was lightly confused as she took hold of the least-dirty cue she could find and joined Jane at the table. "So you wanna hold it like this," Jane instructed, sliding the cue between two of her fingers. "Or… um, I'm left-handed, so that actually might be a little awkward for you—so switch hands, 'cause you're gonna want to shoot with your dominant one."

Maura adjusted accordingly, then frowned and said, "Your left is your dominant hand? I've never seen you write with it."

Jane laughed nervously, standing straight. "I play softball and swing a golf club left-handed, 'cause I can get away with it there. When I was a kid, my parents sent me to a grammar school run by nuns, and boy, those Sisters used to whack me something awful! They thought they were gonna beat an education into me, but I fought 'em in spirit, anyway. Every time they'd come to my desk and see me writing with my left hand, they'd get a ruler and slam it down on the back of my hand."

"That's barbaric!" Maura gasped.

"No, that's the American way."

"This is the 20th century. Superstitions about the etymology of the word 'left' versus 'right' should have been tossed away long ago!"

Jane smirked and leaned against the edge of the pool table. "So you don't think I'm the spawn of the devil for having a dominant left hand?"

"Certainly not!" Maura balked. "As I say, there is nothing but superstition to back the bias against left-handed people. There is no scientific evidence showing them to be any more likely to engage in delinquent activity or be any more dangerous than their right-handed counterparts."

"Aw, Maura," Jane muttered, taking a step closer. "Can't you just call me a little bit dangerous?"

Maura didn't know how she ought to respond to that. All she knew was that her body was responding physically without her will: her legs felt shakier, and she stopped breathing for a moment when she looked up at Jane and saw those smoky, dangerous-looking eyes boring back into her.

"Turn around," Jane whispered, and for lack of a better response, Maura obeyed. They were both facing the pool table now, and Jane stepped forward, pressing herself up behind the girl.

Maura glanced at the bar, but nobody was looking in their direction; the men were all too invested in listening to the game to pay them any attention, as Jane had known they would be. Jane was waiting for Maura to ask her to please give her some space, to back away. She waited for the look of confused disgust, or maybe just the confusion at least. The wait was in vain. Whatever Maura thought of their positioning, she wasn't taking an issue with it, and Jane couldn't help smiling to herself.

Unless she thinks it'd be rude to say anything…

"Maura? Are you uncomfortable?"

The response was breathless: "WhywouldIbeuncomfortable?"

"Um…no reason, I guess." Jane cleared her throat. "Okay, to get a shot down, you're gonna have to put a kink in that perfect posture of yours." She pushed lightly, and Maura's body curved just the slightest bit. "That's it," Jane murmured, running her hand down Maura's arm. "See that white ball there? You're gonna try and ram it into, uh, let's say the purple one, okay?"

Easier said than done. Without a proper demonstration, Maura had no idea what she was doing. On her first take, she missed the ball altogether. On the second, she took Jane's use of the word "ram" too literally and wound up spinning the cue ball way off course. Jane brought it back in place, stepping behind Maura once again. With her third attempt, Maura succeeded in getting the object ball to roll forward, although it fell quite short of the pocket she'd been aiming for.

"How much do they weigh?" she asked. "Each ball?"

"Um, I don't know. Why?"

Jane shifted as Maura thoughtfully picked up one of the balls, throwing and catching it a few times in her palm. As she did this, Jane lined up Maura's failed shot and took it herself. It was a fairly unimpressive shot, but Maura expressed hearty congratulations anyway. Jane chuckled and rolled her eyes, now taking on a more complicated shot. Another success.

At first Maura had intended to watch the table, keen for picking up tips on how to play the game, but she couldn't keep her eyes off Jane's form, any part of it. The way her brow furrowed just before she took a shot; how her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together. How the fingers of her right hand stretched with the cue stick. Jane's shoulders would shift before each shot, and Maura was reminded of a lioness she had seen on safari once, how she settled herself in the grass in preparation to lunge and strike. At one point, Jane perched backwards on the table, lining up the cue behind her back. This time Maura noticed Jane had to struggle to keep both eyes open, but she managed it, and to Maura's surprised delight, made the shot.

"You're incredible!" she cried.

Jane gave a little bow and sank into her best Elvis impression: "Thank you, thank you, thank you very much."

"May I try now?" Maura asked, holding up her cue stick.

"So long as you don't poke an eye out with that thing, be my guest to tackle the eight ball."

It was a straight shot, and Maura took her time getting into a favorable position. When Jane pretended to start snoring, Maura hit the ball, and then stood up straight in anticipation as she watched it roll towards the pocket. It slowed to a crawl, and after a few anticipatory moments, dropped in.

"Hey!" Jane laughed, as Maura whirled around excitedly to face her. "You're a regular hustler! Nice shot!"

"Well it got quite simple once I understood the physics of it," Maura explained. "You know, taking into consideration the transference of momentum and the friction allowed by the tabletop. Also—"

Jane couldn't help laughing more. "Gee whiz, Maura! Leave it to you to find a way to turn a game into science."

"Well, it makes it easier for me to play that way," she said with a bit of a frown.

A new voice entered the conversation just then: "Hey! What're a couple of pretty girls like you doing in a hovel like this, huh?"

The girls turned, and while Maura was anxious at being addressed like this by a stranger, Jane smiled nervously when she saw it was her father walking over to them. Her nerves were not put much at ease when she got close enough to kiss him on the cheek and could smell the beer on his breath. "Hi, Pop," she said. "I was just showing Maura here the ropes."

Frank reached forward for Maura's hand, which she shook politely as he said, "I'll be darned! You're not the Maura, are you? Maura—what was it, Maura Carlisle?"

"Maura Isles, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, oh yes. My boy's taken quite a fancy to you, hasn't he, Janie?" Frank laughed, elbowing his daughter a little too hard. "And blow me down, I can see why! What's a lovely girl like you doing with a rat's ass like Tommy, huh?"

"Pop, don't say that," Jane muttered. She knew if he wasn't tipsy, he wouldn't be saying such things in front of Maura, but she also didn't like the implication: if Tommy was a gutter rat, so was she in comparison to a creature like Maura Isles.

Frank waved his hand at her. "Aw, Janie, come on! She's too good for him, that's clear. You've probably already got a boyfriend, haven't you? Pretty girl like you, lots of boys in that school of ours. Maybe you can help Jane find one? Seems Joey's moved on, is that right, Janie?"

"Uh, we were just gonna go over to Murray's," Jane said, grabbing Maura's elbow and taking a step away. "Sorry we can't stay and chat, Pop. Go enjoy the game with the guys."

"Hey, hey, I ain't done yet," Frank said, pointing a finger sternly at Jane. "What'd your mother say about dressing like that out in public, kiddo?" When Jane didn't answer him, he went on, "I want you should dress how you like, Jane, but your mom and me, we don't like the message you send out with those clothes. That a man's jacket? You want to be a man, Jane?"

"No sir," she snorted.

"Then stop dressing like one. Maybe Maura here can go shopping with you sometime, huh? You should try that more often, Jane. What happened to that girl you used to be such good friends with? How come you don't spend time with her anymore? What was it… Emily?"

"Pop, we've really gotta be going," Jane said. "Maura's gonna take me shopping right now."

"Oh, really? That's good! Great. Your mother will be thrilled. So long, girls—and Maura, it was swell meeting you!"

Maura wasn't sure how she could honestly return the sentiment, so she just smiled politely again and waved as Jane guided her back outside. She didn't know how to smooth over what had happened, and decided to let Jane steer the conversation whenever she felt comfortable picking it up again. It dawned on Maura that she didn't know where they were going (or, for that matter, if Jane really had another location in mind), and she wished she'd known to bring along a jacket.

"Here," Jane said, shrugging off Joey's leather jacket and passing it over to Maura.

"But what about you?"

Jane shrugged. "I'll be fine. Trust me, I'll feel a lot worse than I already do if you caught a cold on account of me dragging you out here."

Under light protest, Maura wound up taking the jacket, and for her part Jane tried not to stare.

That stunt you pulled at the pool hall was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. So you want to stay friends? Yes, good. Don't touch her like that. You. Are not. Supposed to. You're a girl. She's a girl. Act like it. Don't pull any more stunts. Don't read anything into the fact that she took your jacket and she's snug in it.

Definitely don't pay attention to how sexy it was to see the harsh masculine edge of the jacket wrapped around Maura's soft femininity.

As they walked, Jane kept her hands in pockets to keep them warm. Her black shirt was short-sleeved, and Maura frowned again upon noticing a box of cigarettes tucked into one of the sleeves. Jane glanced her way, almost daring her to make a comment about it, and Maura refrained.

"Where are we going now, anyway?" she asked.

"Figured we could go to Murray's. I think Frankie and his girl are there, and we could introduce you to the concept of an egg cream."

"Egg cream? That doesn't sound very appetizing."

"C'mon, Maura. Widen your horizons a bit."

Well, she certainly didn't want to be accused of being small-minded.

As it was a Thursday night, Murray's soda shop wasn't too crowded. Frankie was sitting in a corner booth with Riley, and both of them waved as Maura and Jane walked in. Riley was in Maura's class, and while she had never bonded with the girl, had always been pretty amiable towards her.

"Hey Maura, where'd you get the threads?" Riley asked, looking impressed.

"Hm? Oh, Jane leant it to me," Maura said, unzipping the jacket.

Jane nodded at her. "Go ahead and keep it on if you want." Looking at her brother, she asked, "You two lovebirds ordered yet?"

"Yeah, got a malt with our names on it," he answered.

"Sounds good. I'm about to introduce Maura to the egg cream, myself. Go ahead and take a seat there, Maura, I'll be right back."

"Oh, wait," Maura said, reaching for her purse.

Jane touched Maura's hand to stop her from even opening it. "Nuh-uh. This one's on me."

"Wasn't the phosphate on you?"

"No, that one was on Murray. Next time you can treat me, and we'll call it square, all right?"

Maura smiled and agreed, sitting across from Riley and Frankie. "I think Jane's got the right idea here," Frankie said. "I oughtta just start taking out my friends, not go chasing after a girl. Then we'd all pay equal, and I wouldn't be picking up your tab all the time!"

His tone was light, and Riley made a face at him, pinching his nose. The three of them talked about the upcoming fair for a while, with Maura expressing her sympathies that Tommy would not be able to join in the festivities. Frankie muttered "speak of the devil" and Maura turned to face the door, expecting to see Tommy.

Who she saw waltzing in instead was Garrett Fairfield and a boy she didn't recognize—probably Rory Graham, someone Jane had mentioned he hung around with a lot. Rory walked past their booth to one that was a few behind it, and Maura leaned over to see Debbie, Emily, and Kate all sitting at it. She reverted her gaze back to Garrett, who was looking at Emily with a certain glint in his eye that was hard to miss.

He was a handsome boy, Maura had to give him that. He had the hair and build of a matinee idol, blonde and brown-eyed and dimpled to boot. He wore his letterman jacket with a certain air of pride, and was clearly trying to attract Emily's attention. Ah, the mating ritual of the American teenager. Fascinating.

Garrett had been distracting enough that it took Maura a moment to realize Riley and Frankie were sniggering behind her. That was when she noticed Jane, standing at the bar just behind Garrett, openly mocking every move he made. Garrett pulled out a comb to fix the hair just over his ear, and Jane smoothed a hand over her own hair in the same place, frowning in seriousness. Garrett leaned against the bar, and Jane exaggerated the posture, tilting her hip as far out as it would go. Since his back was to her, she could only guess at the faces he was making, but she was pretty sure she was doing an accurate job. Catching Maura's eye, she puckered her lips and crooked a finger in her direction, motioning for her to come over. She thrust her hips forward a little, smirking with cartoonish smugness and raising an eyebrow.

Neither Riley nor Frankie could breathe for laughing now, and Maura was blushing and laughing as well. With Jane lampooning him in the background, Emily couldn't bring herself to take Garrett seriously, and his mission was left unaccomplished as Jane got her and Frankie's orders and brought them back to the table.

Maura had wanted to laugh more, but it was hard. Jane was funny, yes, but part of the joke had stemmed from the fact that Jane's actions were directed at her. She remembered being at a café in Rome the previous summer, where a boy had tried coming onto her like Garrett had Emily just now. Posing at the bar, catching her eye, getting cute.

She wanted to see Jane do that for her, and do it honestly. It could have been sensual, not silly.

As Jane told Frankie and Riley about how Maura had just used physics to play billiards, Maura pondered how one might efficiently channel all the wasted energy that seemed to be constantly passing between her and the left-handed, non-delinquent next to her.