Shaw watched as Root deftly maneuvered a screwdriver around the edge of the gallon can. The lid came off with a delicate pop, and the hacker moved busily on to the next can.

"What are we doing?" she asked in a bored tone. "And why do you need me for it?"

Root grinned up at her.

"We're setting a trap."

Shaw scoffed.

"With paint?"

"You can tap into your creative side, Sam," she murmured into Shaw's ear, leaning close as she brushed past.

Shaw shook her head in grudgingly affectionate exasperation and sidestepped to avoid the dangerous tilt of one of the cans. She fell in neatly next to Root as the taller woman left the apartment building's maintenance room, knowing that Root would most likely tell her what to do at the last second with as little explanation as possible. That was the fun part.

"A hard nudge should distract him," Root murmured, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

Shaw followed her gaze to a suited figure making his way down the sidewalk toward them. His well-dressed appearance and semi-eccentric manner of arguing enthusiastically into the tiny Bluetooth tightly tucked into his ear made him indistinguishable from the half-dozen other power-mad businessmen one could expect to encounter in this part of town.

"Him?" A shark-like leer was growing on Shaw's face.

"Heavy-duty case. Step hard," Root advised. Gibberish for now, but Shaw tucked it in the back of her mind as she sped up.

When she was nearly level with the oblivious businessman, Shaw stumbled neatly into his path. She checked his shoulder viciously, then pivoted to steady him.

"So sorry-" she started half-heartedly. Just then, Root crashed into the man. The loose lids flew from the cans, followed closely by twin waves of frantic red paint surging for the pristine suit. The impact knocked one can free of Root's arms altogether, and its clatter on the cement rang into the silence of mounting rage as a flood of red covered two- thousand-dollar Italian shoes.

"What the hell do you-"

"I'm so sorry-"

Both Root and the man spoke at the same time. Before he could brush her away, she reached out and began to paw ineffectually at his chest.

"Maybe if we just-"

Shaw, still standing a step away, watched in admiration as Root's hand dipped imperceptibly into a pocket, drawing out a phone and dropping it to the ground. As Shaw stepped up seamlessly, she ground her heel down as hard as she could on the vulnerable phone.

"Here, take your jacket off," she advised from the man's elbow.

Between Root and Shaw's rapid advice and apologies, their target's rage quickly boiled over. He threw out both arms, stepped away, and looked at them both in disgust.

"Lady, if I weren't in such a hurry, I'd get your name and sue you for everything you're worth," he spat at Root before squelching away in a trail of scarlet footprints.

Root grinned after him, then looked at the smashed phone lying on the ground.

"Perfect execution," she purred with satisfaction.

"Phone call we didn't want him to get?" Shaw raised an eyebrow.

"He wouldn't want to get it either, if he knew his business partner is planning to kill him," Root shrugged. "We'll go see him next."

Shaw stifled a grin in favor of mocking Root.

"And two gallons of red paint is your idea of subtle?"

Root shrugged again, eminently pleased with herself. "Some of his business practices are... less than ethical. She just told us to save him, not that he had to like it." She looked down at her own paint spattered clothing. "I did like this shirt, though."

Shaw saw the glint in Root's eyes and the tensing of her muscles a split second before she actually lunged for Shaw.

"Don't touch me," Shaw warned as she darted away. Her pride did not allow her to run, so she settled for batting Root's hands away, earning herself several spatters of color along her forearms.

Root pouted.

"There's a camera-blind alley right up there-" she teased. "I was thinking we could-" she raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Shaw inclined her head as if considering the offer she had already decided to accept. She began to walk slowly, as if in thought, followed by a bemused Root.

"How much time do we have before we have to get to the business partner's?"

Root looked to the side, as she often did when listening to the Machine.

"We don't have to leave for twenty minutes," she grinned.

"Yeah, all right," Shaw answered finally, carelessly, with a sigh belied by her grin as she grabbed a laughing Root's arm and swung her into the alley.

"Somebody call for the cops?" Fusco called sarcastically as he rounded the corner into the office. He stopped abruptly. "What happened to you two?"

The two paint-smeared women glanced up in unison.

"This?" Root asked innocently, pulling at her too-small black (and now red-smeared) t-shirt. Shaw smirked with satisfaction as she shoved their would-be killer toward Fusco. "Business as usual."

Fusco's eyes traveled over Shaw's looser-than-usual white shirt and up through both women's paint-streaked hair.

"Is that paint or blood or-? And how-?" he paused in disgust. "You know what? I don't wanna know."

Root grinned, and Shaw's dangerous smile followed a second later.

"No, Lionel," she murmured quietly as she slipped past him to leave, "you really don't."