The phone in Eliot's pocket vibrated just as the car speaker system rang. The chirp was Sophie's ring tone.

"How does my phone make your car ring?"

Nate shook his head. "Hardison would be my guess. Do you want me to answer it?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Nate pushed a button on his steering wheel and Eliot heard a click. "Yeah?"

"You owe me."

Oh God, he so didn't want to have this conversation with Nate listening in. "Do not."

"Do to."

Ever since he'd given the phone to Nate the night Maggie called he'd been waiting for this conversation, he just didn't want to have it now. "Do not."

Nate was about to speak up when Sophie spoke. "There is blood all over my Jimmy Choo's. You so owe me."

Happily startled at the turn of events Eliot growled back. "Do not. I'm not responsible for where blood goes after I hit a guy. If you can't get out of the way..."

"Oh no, I was getting out of the way, you hit him my direction."

Eliot stammered. "I, what, you. I was a little busy. Quit being a princess and just wash 'em."

"Hey," Nate warned.

"You can't wash blood out of suede, Eliot, and ew!"

"You can wash blood out of anything," Eliot replied.

"I wouldn't think you'd know," Parker's voice came faintly from farther back. They must be on speaker phone in the other car. "I mean, I figured you'd just throw out what ever had blood on it and get a new one."

"I'm not gonna throw out a perfectly good jacket, shirt, whatever, just cuz of a little blood. Why are we having this conversation?"

"Because you so owe me."

"Do not."

"Do to."

"Do not."

"Do to."

"I'm hanging up." Nate hit the button and cut off the call. In the passenger seat, Eliot was sitting with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring out the side window. "Don't pout."

"I'm not pouting!"

"Then don't sulk."

"I don't sulk!"

Nate shook his head. "Well whatever it is that you are doing over there, knock it off."

"I'm not doing anything."

Nate resisted the temptation to roll his eyes, turned on his indicator and changed lanes.

Four days later the team met at Nate's to prep for a job. Sitting on the work console was a shoe box, white with gold lettering, that said simply "Jimmy Choo, London."

Inside, a pair of black and white suede pumps. Tucked inside was a small white card. "Do not."

Sophie hugged them to her chest and beamed.

"You replaced them?" Nate asked as he and Eliot moved toward the couch.

"Did I?"

"She threw them away."

Eliot's eyes twinkled as he gave a small smile. "I am a retrieval specialist."