"Wait, so I have to promise not to say anything to Carter about your friends?" Fusco was asking as he followed Reese down the hall of the hotel. "And you're not going to tell me anything about them first?"

"It's for your own protection," Reese shrugged in reply.

Fusco glanced back at Sophie, who just smiled and nodded. The detective sighed. "Fine. But only because I trust you." Then, almost as an afterthought, he mumbled, "Maybe a little too much."

Reese smirked. "You're just sore because she turned you down," he commented quietly so that only Fusco could hear him. "You might want to work on your game a little, Lionel."

"Can't fault a guy for trying," Fusco grumbled. "What's the big deal with all the secrecy anyway?"

"Well, now, it wouldn't be a secret if I went around telling everyone." Shifting Sophie's bags to his left hand, Reese pulled a key card out of his right pocket. He stopped at one of the doors lining the hallway, inserted the card, then pushed the door open when a small beep announced it had been unlocked.

"Hey guys!" Parker looked up and waved from her spot on the floor. She was lying next to Bear, her head resting on his back, a hand rubbing his ears.

At the sight of Reese, the dog's head went up and his tail thumped in greeting, but he made no move to get up from the carpet. Reese hid a grin at the contented look on the animal's face and deposited the shopping bags against the wall just inside the doorway. In response, the dog just turned his head to nuzzle Parker's hair, then rested it back on his paws with a contented sigh.

"Y'all didn't have to stop at every store on the way back," Hardison commented, taking in the shopping bags as Fusco swung the door shut. The hacker was fiddling with a small piece of computer equipment as he directed a look Sophie's way. "We got things to do."

Sophie just chuckled and strolled over to the sofa, taking a seat near Nate. "Oh stop being so dramatic, Hardison," she chided good-naturedly. "I still have plenty of shops to cross off my list before we leave New York. Also," she directed a look at Nate, "you still need that new suit we talked about."

Ignoring the comment, Nate glanced over at where Reese had taken a seat near the door, then took in the shorter, heavy-set newcomer standing uneasily to Reese's right. "Thanks for joining us, Detective."

"Yeah, well, I'm only here 'cause he asked me to," Fusco replied, tilting his head to indicate Reese. He crossed his arms and returned Nate's stare. "Mind telling me what this is all about?"

"We, ah, have a number we're investigating," Finch offered in response, lifting his concentration from his laptop to the others around him. "We needed your assistance, Detective, so that we can keep all the aspects of our plan going."

Fusco nodded slowly. He had just started to say something else when the room door opened again.

Eliot strode in and headed straight for the small kitchenette tucked in the far corner. He paused as he caught sight of Fusco, relaxing only slightly as he took in the others' lack of concern. "Who's this guy?"

Fusco was looking less impressed by the minute. "I could ask you the same question."

"A friend," Reese stated flatly, tilting his head slightly as if to challenge any further questions.

"Ah, Eliot, how did, ah, how did your meeting go?" Nate asked quickly.

The hitter shrugged. "Fine. Smith doesn't suspect anything. I even tried to dig to see if your stunt with those teens caused any problems," he added, directing this second statement at Reese. "But he didn't seem to have noticed anything strange." Eliot had opened the fridge while he was answering Nate's question, and now he paused, straightening and shooting a dark look towards Hardison. "Why is the only thing in this fridge orange soda?"

"Well next time, don't assume I'll run your dang errands for you," Hardison snarked, tossing the device in his hand up and then catching it as he shook his head at his teammate. "It's 'age of the geek,' not 'age of the errand boy.'"

Finch suddenly stood from his seat, the desk chair squeaking as it rolled a short ways across the carpet at the quick movement. "Why don't we just get on with the task at hand, hmm?" he asked, looking around the room hopefully.

As for the others, Sophie's lips were pursed in a bemused expression as she flipped another page in her magazine, Reese was quietly observing the situation at hand, and Fusco still just looked annoyed.

When no one else spoke up, Finch continued, "Now, Detective, we need you to head out with Ms. Parker here and plant this," he reached over and plucked the device from Hardison's hands, "in Mr. Kiernan's shop. It's simply a small tool to assist in our investigation."

"A bug, you mean," Fusco observed, walking over to take it from Finch. "The things I do for you two," he muttered, glancing pointedly at Reese.

"Yes, a bug," Nate nodded.

"Naaaaate." Sophie drew the word out plaintively. "You do need that suit. And think if you have to play a part in this job where you need it?"

Nate sighed in resignation. "Okay, fine; we're waiting around for now anyway. Might as well get it done. In the meantime," Nate added, "Eliot, you and Reese stay here, but keep your comms on. We need you two ready in case anything comes up."

Parker jumped up from the floor, causing Bear to shift and look at her sadly. She reached down and patted his head, then skipped to the door. After one more look between Finch and Reese, Fusco sighed and followed her out into the hallway. Before the door had swung shut, those still in the room could hear Parker's voice trailing down the hallway. "Can we stop and get something to eat? I'm starving. Do you want a burger?"

After the others had left, Finch and Hardison had finished working to set up the computer equipment necessary for spying on Kiernan's office. After Fusco and Parker's errand, the team would be set to keep an ear on the goings-on in the pharmacy. As they were finishing up, Finch's phone vibrated in his pocket. He retrieved it and read the message that had popped up on the screen, his brow creasing ever so slightly as he did so.

"Something wrong, Finch?" Reese asked, still in the chair he had taken when he first came into the room with Fusco and Sophie.

Finch gestured noncommittally with his head as he reread the message. "Nothing serious, but I'm afraid I must step out for a moment to attend to something." He looked between his teammate and Hardison, pausing as if to consider his next words.

"If you're worried about leaving us alone, don't worry about it," Hardison was quick to assure him, cutting off whatever Finch was about to add. The hacker's fingers flew across the keyboard of his laptop as he studied the information on it intently. "Looks like our bugs are operational! The others should have them planted soon enough," he announced to the room.

"Thank you, Mr. Hardison," Finch replied. "Now, as I was saying -"

"Dude, we're all grown adults; we'll be fine," Hardison laughed distractedly, interrupting the older man a second time.

Clearing his throat, Reese shifted meaningfully in his seat. His jaw tightened, and he was leveling a glare at Hardison. For his part, the hacker gave no indication that he had heard anything, keeping his eyes glued to his computer screen.

Finch looked displeased, but he quickly recovered and squared his shoulders. "Yes, well, I will be back as soon as I can," he told Hardison, then turned and strode to the door. He paused next to Reese and raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Reese, it would seem there is a small problem with one of my aliases. Nothing serious, but it could become so if I don't handle it. I shouldn't be gone for more than an hour."

"You don't think he'll cause too much trouble, do you?" Reese asked in a low voice, his eyes narrowing as he watched Hardison working.

With a shrug, Finch let out a small sigh. "Have fun, Mr. Reese," was all he said before he turned the knob and exited the hotel suite.

"I still don't get why they sent us out together," Fusco commented from the driver's seat. He gave his passenger a look. "It's not like we've ever done this sort of thing together; you'd think they would have at least assigned this to two of the team who have actually worked together before."

Parker shrugged and stuffed more french fries into her mouth. "Well, Nate said something about us being the only two available," she said around the food.

"Oh, well that explains everything," Fusco muttered.

Ignoring the comment, Parker brushed her hands together to rub off most of the grease and then opened her door. "Come on; let's go."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming." The detective joined her as she stepped off the curb. "How much experience do you even have with this type of thing?" he asked as they crossed the street.

"I can take care of myself; don't worry," she assured him. Then, with a grin, she pulled a pair of dark sunglasses from the pocket of her blazer, put them on, and reached for the door handle. Before Fusco could protest again, Parker skipped inside the shop. "Huh," she commented, pulling up to take in the interior. "I thought it'd be more cluttered."

Kiernan's pharmacy was small, but it seemed spacious because of the layout. There was plenty of space for all of the merchandise, but the shelves were spaced fairly well apart. The counter with the register sat right near the front of the store, while two doors took up wall space at the back. One of the doors had a sign indicating that it was a bathroom while the other sign clearly read, "Employees only."

The bell above the entrance had jingled when Parker and Fusco entered. At the noise, a short, balding man with wire-rimmed glasses looked up from where he was writing something on a small pill bottle. "Oh, hello. Welcome," he greeted, putting his pen down. "Can I help you with something?"

Parker put on one of the fakest smiles Fusco had ever seen, although the clerk didn't seem to notice. She pulled her glasses off with one hand and reached into her pocket with the other. "Hi there," she drawled, "I'm Detective Fusco with the NYPD."

Sure he had misheard her introduction, Fusco quickly patted all of his pockets, his incredulous look growing as he came up empty. He drilled a glare into the back of Parker's head, but she either didn't notice or didn't care.

"I'm looking for the owner of this store," Parker continued. "That'd be a Mr. Kiernan, correct?"

"Uh, yes." The clerk raised a worried eyebrow. "He does own this store, but he's not in at the moment… What is this about?"

Parker tilted her head. "We need to ask him a few questions. Will he be in soon?"

"Oh, well, I… I wouldn't know," the man chuckled nervously. "Mr. Kiernan kind of keeps his own schedule."

"Listen," Parker told the clerk, crossing her arms and leaning in across the counter. "Can you check if he will be? I've come all the way down here, and I need to talk to him. If he's not going to be in soon, I need to know how I can contact him."

The man nodded quickly and pulled open a drawer under the counter. "Let me just see if I can find his number for you…"

As the clerk dug through the jumble of contents inside of the drawer, Parker turned and shot Fusco a look. The detective frowned and pointed at the badge in her hands. Parker simply rolled her eyes as she waved her hands emphatically and mouthed, "Go!"

Fusco rolled his eyes too, but sighed and reluctantly raised his voice. "Ah… I'm going to step to the little boys' room for a minute. Be right back - partner," he added reluctantly when she raised an eyebrow.

"Here we go." The clerk slid the drawer closed, a slip of paper in his hand. "This is Mr. Kiernan's card. You can reach him here."

With a small nod, Parker pocketed the business card and pulled out a small notebook. "I have a few questions for you in the meantime," she announced, clicking open a pen.

As Parker launched into a spiel of questions, keeping the clerk's attention, Fusco strolled to the rear of the shop. He looked back towards the front counter, then, satisfied that the store's employee was distracted, pushed open the door not labeled as the bathroom.

The stockroom was dim and quiet, but Fusco stayed still for just a moment after he let the door swing shut behind him. Other than the humming of the air conditioner, there was no sound from within. There was a door off to the side labeled 'Office,' and Fusco headed towards it as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the device Hardison had given him in the hotel room.

He turned it over in his hands, a doubtful crease on his forehead. "Well, let's hope you work," he muttered.

"Yeah, dude, it totally works," Hardison's voice suddenly came through the detective's earpiece. "You doubting my abilities or something?"

Fusco rolled his eyes. "Keep your shirt on," he shot back.

"Well then I suggest you hurry up and get out of there," the hacker replied. "Parker can't keep the clerk occupied forever."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it." The detective eased the office's door open and glanced inside. There was no one to be seen, so with one last look around the main stockroom, Fusco slipped into the office. He quickly crossed the short distance to the desk and stuck the small, circular device to the underside of the piece of furniture.

"All done," he reported as he turned back for the door. "Why couldn't you have just hacked his phone or something instead of me having to sneak in here like this?"

Hardison sniffed. "Uh, maybe because we like to do things thoroughly? I don't know where you New Yorkers learned your skills, but there's this thing I like to call 'covering my bases.'"

"I know how to cover my bases."

"Guys!" Parker's hiss cut into their conversation. "Fight later. I'm about out of questions here!"

"We're not fighting!" they both responded at once.

Out by the register, Parker resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she turned back to the clerk. She clicked her pen closed as she gave him her best nothing-to-see-here smile.

"Uh, is your partner okay?" the man asked her. "He's been gone an awfully long time."

"Oh, yeah, uh…" Parker blinked momentarily, then made a face. "Yeah… we had burritos for lunch. He ate extra beans." She waved her hand in front of her nose and laughed awkwardly. "Yeah, you don't want to imagine what it's like on stakeouts."

The clerk's eyes widened slightly and he made a face back, then he caught sight of something over Parker's shoulder. "Oh, speaking of, there he is."

She glanced in the direction he had pointed, then turned back to the counter. "Well, thanks for your time."

"Sure thing, Detectives," the man said. His tone was pleasant enough, but he gave a slightly-forced smile when he glanced at Fusco. "Let me know if I can help with anything else. And I hope you feel better soon."

Fusco opened his mouth to respond, but Parker turned on her heel, grabbing his elbow and redirecting him as she passed. "Let's go, partner."

The bell above the door signalled their exit. As soon as they had hit the pavement, Fusco stuck out a hand.

Parker just looked at it, then shrugged. "What?"

"You know what," the detective replied. "You have something that belongs to me."

"Oh, pffft," she blew air out between her teeth. "That." At Fusco's look, she sighed and reached into her pocket. "Fine. Here." She dropped the badge into his outstretched hand. "Watch it more carefully next time," she muttered under her breath as she brushed past him to head for the car.

"What was that?" Fusco asked, turning to follow.

She flashed an innocent smile. "Oh, nothing. Just that a cop should probably keep a closer eye on his badge and gun," she offered, then ducked into the car and swung the door shut behind her.

"My what?" Fusco patted his sides, then sighed and rolled his eyes. "For the love of - can you stop doing that?" he asked, sliding into the driver's seat and leveling a look of frustration at the thief in his passenger seat.

Parker just shrugged. "Eliot says guns are bad."

"Eliot can kiss my -"

"Ah ah. Be nice," Parker waved a finger at him.

In response, he simply held out a hand. "You're lucky you didn't shoot yourself," he chided as she reluctantly pulled the weapon from her waistband.

"You're cute." Parker glanced through the windshield, then back at the detective. "The others are waiting. Can we go?"

"Yeah, sure." Fusco checked his blind spot, then pulled out onto the street. "The sooner we get back to the hotel, the sooner you quit lifting stuff from me. At the rate you're going, I'll be lucky if the only thing I go home without tonight is my pride."

"Right, so I come around the car and say, 'Hey,'" Eliot was deep in story-telling mode. "'What smells like crank and screams like a girl?'"

Reese lowered his bottle and raised an eyebrow in question, a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. "Let me guess, he screamed in response?"

Just then, the door opened and Finch hurried in. Bear jumped up from the floor beside Reese's feet and trotted over in greeting, tongue hanging out happily.

"Gentlemen, I apologize for…" Finch trailed off, pausing as he removed his hat and took in the scene in front of him. "Oh thank goodness. I was slightly worried I would return to find at least one body in the room." He patted Bear on the head and tossed his hat onto the sofa.

The two men on the sofa exchanged a glance, which was not lost on Finch. The pause was very brief, interrupted a moment later by a loud banging sound.

If looks could kill, Finch's would have leveled both fighters. "You should both be ashamed of yourselves!" he remonstrated, catching sight of the chair tilted up underneath the handle of the bathroom door. He strode across the room, his lips pursing even more as the thumping continued.

"Yeah!" Hardison yelped as soon as Finch had moved the offending piece of furniture and opened the door. "You should most definitely be ashamed of yourselves," he repeated, straightening his jacket with a firm tug. "Didn't your mamas never teach y'all any manners? For goodness sakes, y'all!"

Finch slowly turned from the door. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then let it out and leveled a very pointed look at his partner. "We do not lock our allies in hotel bathrooms, Mr. Reese."

"It was for his own protection," Reese shrugged, exchanging another glance with Eliot.

"How so?" Finch frowned.

From his place behind Finch, Hardison crossed his arms and glared at Eliot.

Reese calmly sipped his drink. "He was unsettling the dog."

"That's not funny, Mr. Reese."

"I thought it was funny," Eliot offered, looking up from scratching Bear's ears.

"Well, I didn't, thank you very much," Hardison shot back grumpily. "And let's just see how funny you think it is when I cancel your plane ticket back to Boston."

Finch gave a long-suffering sigh. "It would be wise for you to keep out of this, Mr. Spencer," he scolded.

"Not like he kept out of it so far," Hardison sniffed. "You know, I can see him doing something like that," he complained, rolling his eyes at Reese, "but my own teammate…" He shook his head and tsked in disapproval.

Rolling his eyes, Eliot smirked. "Oh calm down, Hardison. It was a harmless prank. It's not like we shoved you in a locker."

"Might as well have been," Hardison groused.

Forehead wrinkling in concern, Finch looked between the two Leverage teammates. He shot a glance at Reese, but if he had been hoping for an indication that the taller man was going to help break up the argument, he was mistaken. If anything, Reese seemed to be enjoying himself - a little too much, Finch noted. He breathed a sigh of relief when, before Eliot could retort, the door swung open and Nate and Sophie walked in.

The tension in the air was palpable, and judging from their expressions, both of the newcomers could tell something was going on. Nate's tired sigh as he took in the scene matched Finch's sigh from moments before. "What -" Nate started, then paused as if thinking better of whatever he was about to say.

Finch and Sophie exchange sympathetic, parental glances as Nate pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

"Okay," he said, looking up again. "Here's the plan."