A/N: Turns out there are a lot of studies regarding arc colors and what they say about the personality of the driver. I picked the result for black cars that I liked best (so sue me) and made up the findings for blue to a certain degree.

All the credit for this one goes to HPforever2018-3 who actually mentioned in a review of the previous installment how cars would be an interesting topic as well. So, this is all you.

Also, I'm aware that Scientifically Incorrect, Drinking Habits and now this one follow all the same pattern in a way (Steph in a diner, Morelli joining her and telling her about a study) but in all fairness there are very few ways this could play :)


I deserved a treat – and no explanation to anyone why I did. Well, technically. Practically I knew I'd explain myself up and down if I ran into someone I knew, who looked at me and wondered why I was devouring not one, not two, but three pieces of ie and it wasn't even noon yet. Not even eleven come to think of it.

For once I didn't indulge in the pies of the day my local favorite diner offered due to professional mishaps. Nope, this one was entirely to be blamed on my family. My mother to be precise. And her idea about my life. All I had wanted to do when getting up this morning was to get grandma Mazur to the beauty parlor for her appointment and maybe get a few donuts on the way back to drop off with Connie and Lula. I made the drop off of Grandma Mazur but never made it to get donuts.

One could argue that I should be used to my mother's ambushes about my life choices and other things. But every time she started afresh, it hit me out of the blue and past arguments seemed all of a sudden invalid. Today's topic was the lack of men – or a man – in my life and therefore I really could not be thinking to be happy, could I? Joe had been out of the picture for quite some time after I caught him two-timing and Ranger and me… well, things were casual. And I figured explaining my mother there was a guy in my life but that things did not head towards booking a church and naming our first born anytime soon seemed… complicated. For my and Ranger's sake.

And complicated was something I for once didn't need in my life. Not that I ever really needed complicated in my life, but everyone who knows me knows that complicated pretty much sums up my entire life quite nicely. Ranger and me were in a stage that neither of us felt like they needed to label it – well, me anyway, since I believe Ranger would never really label anything – and it was incredibly relaxed. No drama, no jealousy, no arguments. It was technically just a lot of sex and a few bouts of domesticity and it was incredibly nice and refreshing. I didn't need to know whether there were others – which I actually knew there weren't because… between me and RangeMan Ranger only had pretty much only time to sleep, which he usually did next to me. I also didn't need grand declarations of love, devotion or… everlasting faithfulness. To an odd degree I knew I already had that with him anyway without someone actually uttering the words. The weird thing about me and Ranger and what we did was that somehow, I felt more secure and certain about us than I ever felt while dating Morelli. So, what did that tell you that I was more certain about what I had with a guy who barely talked compared to the relationship I had with Morelli, who seemed to talk – more often than not even yelled – constantly?

I was just digging into my second slice of pie, minding my own business and being all jolly and happy – finally! – when someone had to ruin the mood of the moment.

"Knew I'd find you here," Morelli announced without much fanfare and took the seat opposite of me a second later without me even inviting him.

"I'm not trying to hide so I'm not sure how that was so hard to accomplish…"

As always, if Morelli had no answer or reply to something you said, he just ignored it and went on with whatever was on his mind. Some things never change.

"Since I have a lot more time on my hands these days, I read a lot more," he started and I just looked confused at him.

"Congratulations, do you want me to notify the press and get you a marching band? Also, your little twenty-something already boring you?" I asked, taking a bite of my pie.

"You and me were on a break," Morelli just commented mildly annoyed.

"Was that break only implied? Since I would surely remember if we had decided on that officially and as many words actually had been exchanged stating we were?"

Instead of a reply he just rolled his eyes, which in all fairness was ticking me off a little since he made it sound as if it had been obvious and I was just being difficult on principle.

"Anyway, can we speed this up a little, I'm actually busy."

"You are eating pie," Morelli stated, sounding somewhat annoyed.

"Yes, as I said, I'm busy. But thank you for pointing that out, Detective Obvious."

"I thinking about getting a new car," he started and I was wondering when he'd actually get to the point that started involving me.

"And you need my advice, seeing as I have had quite an extensive number of vehicles?" I asked confused.

"What? No, why would I ask your advice? You know literally nothing about cars. At all."

"Then why are you telling me about your pointless future plans?"

"Just give me a moment, alright?" he a said and since there really was no actual way for me to escape quickly, I indulged in letting him have his way. For once anyway.

"I have decided on the model and make, but the color is a bit trickier," he went on and I barely held back an eyeroll. This was really nothing I needed to hear about. Mainly because I didn't care. "I found a study that looks at car colors and the personality traits of their drivers and some thing stroke me as… interesting and that maybe you should know about it."

"Why?" I asked annoyed, seeing really no point in this. "It isn't like any of my cars get chosen due to their color – other than horrendous colors usually mean a pretty cool discount, making them incredibly affordable."

"Did you know that black cars are driven by people who are reckless and are considered psychopaths? More black cars are involved in accidents than cars of any other color. They are considered selfish and self-centered, don't care about much at all and always try to making the biggest profit, regardless the situation. If you happen to be collateral, so be it," he explained, shrugged and seemed indifferent. Maybe a little too indifferent. Like he was trying to act as if he wasn't bothered.

"My current car is yellow," I simply remarked, confused as to why he was associating a black car with me. Until it actually clicked and I realized that this wasn't about me. Why would it be?

"This is about Ranger, isn't it?"

It seemed no matter whether Morelli and me were involved or not, Ranger was always the topic every conversation circled back to eventually. Even now, when Morelli shouldn't even be concerned with anything regarding me, Ranger still was the one person he couldn't let go of – so to speak. He was public enemy number 1 and needed to be taken down and dismantled at whatever cost.

"And while we are on the topic, you do know what driving Porsche signalizes, don't you?"

"Power and impeccable taste?" I asked, playing innocent and knowing fully well what Morelli was trying to get across. No way was I playing his stupid mind games – especially since I knew whatever he tried communicating couldn't be further from the truth. I shared a bed with Ranger for most nights and I would know best if he tried to compensate for anything.

"You know, one day you'll wake up and come to your senses, realizing that this crush you had, putting him on some pedestal, will have faded and that he in fact is and was never anything special. That it was all in your head and you just sugarcoated and whitewashed his flaws for your own sake. When that happens, call me."

"You mean, like I did while dating you? Where I found all sorts of ridiculous excuses and explanations why something you did actually wasn't that bad or how you didn't mean it? That kind of sugarcoating and whitewashing?"

"And because you started it, black cars are often chosen by powerful, classic, well-disciplined people who like elegance and luxury. Black car drivers are said to be aggressive, competitive, and intimidating, yes, but they also send the subconscious message that they are self-assured, confident, and have a desire to be taken seriously by others. Also, they are amazing in bed and rather generous lovers."

Morelli did not look like he was taking that small tidbit in really well. Not that it surprised me to be honest. He never did when something made Ranger look better than him. Time to put the final nail in his coffin than.

"Your current car is blueish-silver, isn't it?" I asked and saw him nod, still seeming a million miles away on my last remark. "Studies suggest that blue signalizes knowledge, loyalty and faith. It is supposed to have a calming effect and represents stability. Silver on the other hand represents wealth, success and power. People who like silver are usually calm, compassionate and kind."

Morelli started to grin at me and I already rolled my eyes rather prominently. "Since neither of these traits can be applied to you, seeing as you the furthers from a calm personality, as well as compassionate or kind and certainly have no clue how to even spell loyalty or wealth, it is safe to say you shouldn't read too much into such pointless studies and color theory. Though… we can agree that black sums up Ranger to a tee. In regards to… everything. Well, other than the accidents, seeing as I seem to be the only one accident-prone."

"How do you…?" he simply just asked, ignoring my comment about his personality that didn't favor him. Like always.

"Know so much about colors and cars? Turns out, when on a stakeout with either of my favorite MerryMen the options for reading material usually includes one of the following three: Playboy, Guns and Ammo as well as random car magazines. I probably read about more studies in regards to car colors than I actually wish to admit," I explained my newfound knowledge that seemed to stump Morelli. "But it is better than reading about the newest and improved version of an AK-47 or rate centerfolds with Lester, guessing which parts are surgically enhanced."

Morelli's next comment surprised me, but in all fairness, I'm not entirely certain what I had expected in regards to comebacks or comments.

"What happened to you?" he asked, sounding almost rueful and sad. I wasn't sure why, though? Sure, I wasn't first in line when it came to looking at centerfolds or AK-47 magazine articles, but it wasn't like I was that bothered by it.

I placed the fork on my plate, dropped a few bills on the table and got up. Shrugging at Morelli, I put my sunglasses on and replied "I learned to enjoy myself."

And then I left, picking up my third piece of pie from the counter which had already been put on 'take-out' by a very receptive waitress and went my way.

Xx THE END xX


Post-A/N: Fun fact, I actually did not make up the part about black car drivers being good in bed and generous lovers. In a study I read it actually said exactly that, though, in all fairness, it was something owners said about themselves.