"You smuggled a painting out by mailing it through the postal service from the building?" said El, falling over on the bed laughing. "In a mailing tube?" Dinner had long been over and everyone was stretched out on the bed in the guest room. "That's crazy!"
"Who did you mail it to?" said Peter, honestly just curious at this point. "Or hypothetically since supposedly this is how you would have done it, as you have reminded us at least twice?" He glances at the clock. "Let's pretend Agent Burke when to bed thirty minutes ago when he should have and your friend Peter is here."
"Okay, hypothetically I would have mailed it to an alias who happened to have postal box in a post office several cities over." said Neal, laughing a little himself remembering the job. The security had been tight and he had to gone in through the ducts and it would have been impossible to carry it back out that way. "Museums don't really check their outgoing mail as they assume it's all going to the right place." He glances at Peter. "Or so I have heard."
"I mean, it does make sense they wouldn't." said El, thinking back to her art gallery days. "I don't think we ever really did because of well what Neal said. There's a bigger worry about incoming mail."
Peter starts to make a mental note to get security at the FBI office to start checking outgoing mail before he realizes Neal had been mentioning he wanted to go straight. Then again who knows if there were anyone corrupt in the office as it wouldn't be the first time, so he decides to go for it.
Neal seems to read his mind. "Planning to upgrade the security at White Collar?" he said, only sounding a little disappointed.
"Well more like the building...and we have had corrupt agents before." said Peter. "Not everything is about you, Neal." He added the last part jokingly, sipping at one of the beers he had brought up while he sees Neal sigh a little in relief. Truth was he mostly trusted Neal these days anyways, even before he was taken, though it had always made him feel better to verify.
"Ok, you two, no fighting or I'm sending you both to bed immediately." said El, giggling. "I always thought it was funny how Peter come home to say you sent champagne or cookies or good coffee to the van. I believe he even said once you sent them caviar?"
"Maybe..." said Neal, nodding at Neal, confirming he had. "I mean they are stuck in the van and I mean who could blame someone for taking some pity on them. Plus I've had the FBI coffee - trust me when I believe straight tar would taste better."
"Am I the only one who likes the van?" said Peter, a little bewildered.
"Yes." said El and Neal. Peter gives them both a look.
"Jones and Diana are too nice to tell you and everyone else is afraid of you." said Neal.
"People talk." said El, shrugging, sleepily. "I totally should get up and go to bed, but it's so comfy here."
"Definitely the same." said Peter, resting his head on a pillow he had grabbed from the chair in the corner. "Neal, tell us to go to bed."
Neal laughs, eyes half closed. "My job to order you two around now? I don't really have the energy to despite how fun it sounds."
The trio fall asleep, not hearing one of the burner phones that is ringing on a bookshelf downstairs.