A/N: Please read the note in the first chapter if you would like to know where these drabbles came from. I know a very young granddaughter hasn't shown up for June, but the granddaughter in Vital Signs was young enough to make a younger one plausible. War, on the other hand, may not be very plausible, but the idea that some of the skills Neal has shown are consistent with military training was intriguing to me. Weddings is just speculative and takes place well after the series ends.

6. Whimsy

"The grass is purple, `cause that's my favorite color."

Peter nudged the door open and peered cautiously into Neal's suite. That voice was entirely too young to belong either to the con-man or the usual company he brought home.

"Pink is my second favorite, so that's why the clouds are pink."

June's six year old granddaughter, Becca, Peter thought she was called, was sitting on Neal's lap at the kitchen table, fingers stained every color of the rainbow, proudly explaining her latest masterpiece.

Neal listened with rapt attention, apparently hanging on every word. That ability to listen, to make a person feel as if every syllable they mumbled was of the upmost importance to him, was one of the things that made Neal so good at what he did.

"Pink clouds remind me of cotton candy on Coney Island," Neal said, putting his skills to the admirable end of making a six year old feel like the center of someone's world.

"Cotton candy is my third favorite, after caramel apples and peanut butter cups," Becca tipped her head back and smiled at him. "I've never been to Coney Island."

"Maybe your grandma June can take you sometime," nothing changed in Neal's expression or posture, no indication of any regret that cotton candy was so far out of his radius.

There was a very pronounced streak of bright blue on Neal's cheek and green and yellow crusted under his nails. Peter glanced down at the case file in his hands, an art theft that had ended in murder, and decided he would take June up on the offer of lunch.

He closed the door as quietly as he had opened it and headed back down the stairs.

***

Two weeks later, Peter walked through his front door to find a painting hanging on a previously empty wall. Coney Island at sunset, the sky blazing with pink clouds and the fairgrounds taking on a purple hue in the fading light. He was a little surprised when he recognized the signature in the lower corner. He had spent three years learning the way Neal copied other people's work, but he had rarely seen any originals.

Elizabeth stepped out of the kitchen, a pleased smile on her face. "When I told Neal I hadn't found a painting that fit that space, I wasn't expecting him to make one. He said it's called Becca's World."

Peter snorted softly and kissed his wife on the cheek, then fished his phone out of his pocket to see if their artist wanted to come over for dinner.

7. Waste/wasteland

It was a waste of resources, but Neal had convinced prison guards to let him walk out of a maxim security jail, so really it wasn't much of a stretch.

Peter was hardly fooled, but he went along with it, nervously at first, but he wanted results and he was reasonably certain he had things under control, even if it was for totally different reasons than the one presented.

It was a truce of sorts, a secret shared between the two of them. The 3500 dollar accessory Neal never went anywhere without was a waste of time and energy, but it made them both feel more secure, and created the illusion of control on both sides of the equation.

But they both knew the reality of it was, five minutes was four and a half minutes longer than Neal Caffery needed to disappear forever.

8. Whiskey and rum

Neal drank wine with names it took years of study just to pronounce. His ties were always silk and never polyester. His shoes cost more than some of Peter's suits.

Which was why Peter knew things were not going well when he opened the door to Neal's rooms and was overwhelmed by the smell of whiskey.

Peter didn't care much for whiskey, so he poured himself a shot of rum instead, and sat down next to the young man, raised his shot glass to him in greeting, then waited him out.

9. War

Neal pretended his dislike of guns was purely intellectual, and it was an easy con to run, because it was true that he had always felt they lacked any sense of class or finesse.

He dreamed of gunfire though, and the dark skinned faces of children who played soldier with live rounds and found a soldier's end when the game was done. He dreamed of games he ended to protect the people who protected him, and sometimes when he starts awake, empty stares burnt forever behind his eyes, he resents them for finding a soldier's end when he was left behind.

10. Weddings

"I'm kidnapping you," Elizabeth announced, hooking her arm through his and pulling him towards the door.

"At least you're prettier than my last kidnapper," Neal shrugged, offering no resistance, though he cast a quick glance in the direction of Peter's office.

Peter waved him away absently, phone tucked between his ear and shoulder, open file in his hand. Neal was really only a consultant these days, and he didn't have to ask, but the instinct remained.

"Why am I being kidnapped?" he asked.

"I have to go to a wedding," Elizabeth sighed in exasperation.

"Work or pleasure?" Neal opened the door for her and let her through ahead of him.

"Neither," she grumbled.

Neal found a disgruntled Elizabeth supremely cute, in a purely platonic, married to his closest friend, kind of way. He offered her his arm again.

"You're coming as my decoy," Elizabeth explained. "to distract all the people who think that just because they meet me as a fellow guest I'll plan their wedding for free."

"I can be distracting," Neal flashed the smile that had made people unlock safes for him without a second thought.

Elizabeth was suitably distracted, although not by Neal's smile. She wondered if Neal had purposely smile at just the right time to cause the blonde with too much glitter on her lips and a dog that resembled a pompom to trip over the uneven pavement.

Probably.

"Thank you Neal," Elizabeth nudged his shoulder with her own and smiled back. "I'm sorry for the hassle."

"I don't mind," Neal reassured her, his smile shifting to the one he only gave to people he didn't con. "but really Elizabeth, how many more sisters do you have?"