April 17, 2014
I Write Sins Not Tragedies—Panic! At the Disco (3:08)
White Collar
Neal
No ring for you either. She observed in a teasing tone after he'd read her palm.
Suddenly the tracker around his ankle had a different feeling to it. It wasn't as heavy. He didn't feel as trapped as he had only a minute ago. It was a strange sensation. And he wasn't altogether sure what it meant.
Prison got in the way. He told her in a mutter.
And just that quickly the crushing weight of the anklet was back. Resentment flared. For Peter, for himself, for Kate. Anger hit in a wave. For himself, for Kate. Peter had clipped his wings, Kate had broken his heart and he had let them do it to him.
For just a moment he regretted everything. If he hadn't done the crimes he'd still be free to flit around the world and look at all the pretty things. But there was no use in regrets and there was no way to change the past.
A tracking anklet was nothing like a wedding ring no matter how much he wished it was.