He was aware of nearly everything around him. The clock ticking to his right, the bobble-head staring frozenly back at him, even the occasional rookie agent glancing into his office, then thinking against going in, to which he extremely enjoyed having that kind of power. What he was not aware of, though, was a fuming Temperance Brennan heading up the elevator, arms swinging with adrenaline. He was aware of her, though, once she barged into his office the morning after they'd found the body.
"Heya, Bones!" He greeted, then, upon seeing her face, instantly regretted ever saying a single word.
"You put watchdogs on me?"
"Watchdogs?" He watched her flop into the seat in front of him, something Bones hardly ever did: flop.
"I've been watching cable television recently."
"Well, then I feel a congratulations is in order." He turned his attention from her back to the file beneath his anxious fingers. His fingers, which he realized appeared to be typing across a keyboard whenever he became nervous.
"How many times have I told you that I don't need protection?"
"Two hundred and seventy-three times." He grinned as she narrowed her eyes.
"Is this another one of your jokes or have you really counted? Because I'd like to see where you're getting this information, if you've kept some kind of record…."
"Calm down. I know you've told me many times."
"Then why do you insist upon treating me like a toddler?"
"I do not treat you like a toddler. If I treated you like a toddler, I wouldn't let you go anywhere alone, would I?" Knowing that further arguing was just going to push her buttons and cause her to go irately catatonic, he tried a simple apology.
"Accepted. Now, are you going to call the agents off?"
"No."
"Why not?!"
"The murder might be tied to you. The owner of the store might be another obsessive fan that knew you would be the only one investigating this man's death. The possibilities are endless."
"All of your 'possibilities' are not credible, Booth." He almost grinned at her use of quotation marks around the word.
"Bones, I'm sorry that it has to be this way, but until we rule out this being connected to you, I'm having them keep tabs on you. That way you're safe and I don't have to find a new partner." She gaped at him, outraged, and then clamped her mouth shut like he knew she would. Her arms crossed defensively as she rose from the chair.
"You are being an over reactive, selfish alpha-male. Until you stop doing so, please don't contact me." The frustration nipped at his mind, egging him on until his emotions got the best of him, and he vented out by rising from his own seat.
"Yeah, well, don't expect me to come crawling back, Bones. The 'watchdogs' are following you whether you like it or not!" As he predicted, her eyes widened, but her mouth stayed in a thin line, almost translucent against the rest of her features. He closed his eyes, instantly regretting his words again, and all he was aware of was the resonating sound of his office door slamming. "Damn it."
\/
"His name was what?"
"I'm serious. Stop laughing, Booth."
"Sorry, Angela. But… wow."
"Elmer Fud?"
"Statistically, the name Elmer dropped significantly in the 1940's because his obsession with hunting local wildlife was frowned upon by society."
"Wow."
"…I don't know what that means."
"You know, Bones, like Elmer Fudd, the famous cartoon rabbit hunter. The one who was always after Bugs Bunny. Looney Tunes?" With a shake of her head, the rest of the squints shrugged and continued.
"According to this, he's a licensed banker at Federal Bank down on Pine Street. He's also an avid hunter, from the looks of these newspaper articles about local deer and turkey hunting."
"A hunter? Oh, this just keeps getting better and better."
"Let's see…" Angela quickly scanned the information that was flying across the screen, "He lived alone. There's an article here about a car crash…."
"All right, Bones, let's go," Booth called, placing his hand on her the small of her back and leading her out of the room, "We've got places to go, people to see."
\/
"Never heard of him. Sorry." Vinn Wilson, a young and attractive twenty-nine year-old claimed after being flashed a photograph of Fud. "But isn't that the guy who used to hunt rabbits on cartoon shows?" Booth sent his partner an 'I told you so' look before continuing with his investigation. Brennan, in return, resisted rolling her eyes and wandered down throughout the store to check out the cereal aisle.
"You don't happen to sell a type of cereal that contains marshmallows, do you?"
"Like… Lucky Charms type stuff. You got any of that?"
"Definitely not. We don't sell any of that processed shit here, if you'll excuse my French."
"No part of that sentence was French."
"It's a common phrase, Bones." She shrugged and continued down the aisle. Vinn fiddled with the cash register as Booth continued on with his questions.
"So you don't think he was a customer?"
"No. Most of my customers are regular, like Dr. Brennan over there," Vinn smiled softly towards her retreating figure. Booth cleared his throat. "But no, I don't think so."
"Yeah, I'd say an avid hunter wouldn't purchase anything around here," The agent muttered and glanced up in alarm when Vinn practically exploded.
"A hunter? No way I'd let him into my store. Especially those trashy ones that just hang the innocent deer's head on a plaque. If he found his way into my store, I'm glad he was killed." Then, realizing his mistake, Vinn quickly backtracked, "But I didn't kill him, obviously, because I don't even know the guy."
"Right. Anybody here use the Federal Bank on Pine?"
"What? No, I don't believe so. Well…" Booth peeked over his notepad, eyeing the young man with interest, "I think that Geremy's mom uses that bank. I've heard her coming in and complaining about the service there."
"And Geremy would be…?"
"Oh, he's the teenage boy in the back. A real sweet kid. He's a little mentally challenged, though, so it might be tough asking him questions and getting decent answers." Booth quickly thanked Vinn and then headed down the aisle to grab his partner. "Now, Bones, the next person we're going to talk to is a little… slow. Be nice and don't start throwing out insults."
"I don't insult people, Booth."
"Right, of course you don't."
\/
After finishing what Booth couldn't truly consider an interview- more like watching a kid play with Matchbox cards on a cement floor and sing show tunes until all he'd gotten out of the kid was that his mom "definitely went to that place with the shiny floors and money"- he headed back to the Jeffersonian to drop Bones off.
"So what did you and Vinn talk about?"
"Why?"
"Well, the look on your face seemed that you were perturbed. I would like to know what he said to you." Booth clearly remembered what Vinn had said and he clearly remembered that he hadn't looked perpetuated or whatever college-level vocabulary she'd just used on him.
"He freaked out when I mentioned Fud hunted."
"Well, that seems reasonable. Many organic farmers are severely against killing animals."
"Yeah, but I was just surprised," At his partner's obvious interest as to why he was, Booth grinned and continued on, "Most people freak out about the stock-broker part."
AN: It seems like there's quite a lot of dialogue, but that's usually the best thing about Bones. I don't own anything that was mentioned. And, as you can tell, I put a little spot in for Mr. Nigel-Murray, because he's my favorite junior-squint.
Fisher is just too pessimistic for my tastes, and that's saying something, because my brain usually works towards pessimist rather than optimist. Haha.
Arastoo seems like a copy off of that guy from House, M.D., you know, the one who killed himself… last season… I believe. Clark is my second-favorite, but I felt that Nigel-Murray was the best for this story, because it's a so humorous.
And now I'm rambling. Wait! One last point: I love that Booth and Brennan can be at each others' necks one minute, then he can put his hand on her back and everything is peachy keen.
You know the drill!