7 - Prisoner's Dilemma
"They gotta be talking about Burke and Franklin" Deckard said, hidden behind the navy car in front of them.
Neal spared him a quick glance before the phone in his pocket buzzed.
FBI Main Switchboard.
Time for a show.
"Excuse me, guys. I gotta take this" He smiled, moving past Jones to crouch next to the car across from them.
Deckard was immediately suspicious.
Perfect.
Making sure that he was facing the marshal, he answered the phone
"This is Neal".
"Hey, are you with Deckard?" Peter asked.
"Yea. Yea".
"Are you there, sir?"
"I am" Bancroft answered.
Deckard scowled at him, "Who is that?"
"Tell him it's Bancroft".
Neal held up a placating hand, "It's Bancroft".
"Diana should be with Stan Volker" Peter continued, and he looked over the bonnet of the car just in time to see them arrive in the dealership.
"Yea, uh-huh. That's correct".
"Give me the phone" Deckard ordered, walking over.
"I- I think Deckard wants to speak with you" Neal said pointedly, hearing Bancroft take over just in time.
"Did you lose him?" He couldn't help but taunt.
"... It's Deckard, sir".
He heard a few choice words over the line before-
"Yes, sir".
Deckard handed back his phone with a vicious look in his eyes.
"I'm back".
Neal didn't like that look.
"Okay. Have you ever run a prisoner's dilemma?" Peter asked.
It would only lead to violence.
"I've been in one".
And it was violence against whom that he was worried about.
"Well, now's your chance to run it on a U.S. marshal. You clear on what to do?"
Deckard pointed his binoculars at the car dealership again.
"Crystal clear. Thank you, sir".
Hanging up, Neal crept across behind the marshal to where Jones was giving him a questioning look.
"What's going on?"
"Just follow my lead".
He wasn't too proud to admit the burst of pride he got when the man immediately nodded.
They watched as Diana said a few words before holding up a photograph to Volker. Neal knew it was the crashed lamborghini of course, but nobody else out here did and it immediately caused the desired effect.
Deckard started getting worried.
"What are they doing in there?" He demanded.
"I think you know what they're doing in there" He replied pointedly.
The marshal stared at him for a moment, as if trying to figure out how much he knew, before turning back to the window.
"Volker's cutting a deal with the FBI" Neal continued, "He's selling you out".
Deckard immediately stood and started heading towards the dealership.
"Yup, there it is. A signed confession" He finished, "See, once you showed up in Volker's office, he knew it was only a matter of time before you turned on him and made a deal".
The marshal spun around, weapon drawn, but Jones had already pointed his gun at him.
"Come on Deckard, don't make it harder than it is".
They started inching towards the dealership.
"Give it up" Jones ordered.
"Stay back!"
He turned to run, but Peter picked that exact moment to appear around the corner.
"Hands up, Deckard".
"It's over".
"Put the gun down on the ground!"
He was arrested and cuffed within seconds.
But Neal needed to return something of his first.
And he had to make sure that Peter didn't know he'd gotten it.
Walking over, he patted the man on the shoulder condescendingly.
"Good working with you, Deckard".
With the other hand, he carefully replaced the set of anklet keys that he'd stolen earlier in the day.
The vicious look had returned to the marshal's eyes, or then again, maybe it had never left.
But as Neal smirked and made to move away, the violence he'd predicted surged.
Deckard headbutted him full force and Neal stumbled backwards with a burst of blood.
There was immediate shouting and a swarm of FBI agents and then a worried Peter gripping his arm and leading him away from the grinning man. He led him to the same car he'd hidden behind only ten minutes earlier, and Neal gratefully leant back against it after spitting blood on the pavement.
"You alright?"
"Do I look alright?!" He snapped, hand coming up to prod at his nose.
"No. But, then again, sometimes it's hard to tell with you".
Neal glared, "The blood, Peter, the blood means I'm not alright!"
He coughed as it dripped into his mouth and mourned the amount of listerine he'd need once he got back to June's.
"Here, show me, look up".
He reluctantly did as told, overly aware of the dozen FBI agents watching their interaction, some genuinely concerned but most just amused that the pet con had gotten punched in the face with a head.
"Mmh… Not broken" Peter decided after a minute, "Just a bloody nose, I'd reckon".
He gestured at his now red tie.
"You think?"
"Well, what the hell did you expect, taunting Deckard like that?"
I expected to slip back his keys unnoticed and not have to explain how I stole the key to my anklet allowing me to escape anytime I want Peter.
He shrugged instead, and then grimaced as his nose twinged in pain, a stuffiness becoming apparent that made it more and more difficult to breathe.
"... Definitely not broken?"
"Based on my minimal FBI agent first-aid kit training, no" He replied wryly, "But you should go to a doctor, get it checked out. He busted your lip pretty bad too".
Neal nodded sadly.
"Guess I won't be going to that White Bored exhibit at the Powell, then".
"Oh, I don't know" Peter replied, "You could still make it".
He stared at him in shock.
"... Really?"
"Yea, sure, why not?" He said easily, "Providing, of course, that you can find someone to go with you".
Neal groaned, "See, now, why do you have to do that?"
Peter grinned in response.
"Because you need to lighten up, and teasing is good for the soul".
"Um, no, actually, that's music, and how can I lighten up when I've got a maybe-broken nose?!"
"Just ask Jones to take you".
"I already did! And Diana too!"
"... Maybe Bancroft-"
"Oh, as if! Do you realise the grief you caused me with Bancroft when you fled?"
He sighed and looked over to where Deckard was being shoved into a police car.
"Yea, on this side of a manhunt, isn't all peaches and dandelions, is it?"
He pouted, and then scowled when he realised it hurt less.
"It beats being led away in cuffs".
Peter nodded sagely like he'd said something profound, and Neal realised with a start that he was seriously trying to teach him how not to be a con through positive reinforcement. Like he was a dog. Like his was- was Satchmo.
"... Please?"
"It's outside your radius-"
"Just this once-"
"You need a doctor!"
"I need to see the Powell exhibit-"
"Neal".
"Peter".
They stopped.
The FBI agent blinked.
"... Let's get back to the office. We'll swing by A&E on the way and see if there's a cute trustworthy nurse who'll take you".
"Peter!"
