"We've made some progress on the mystery passenger." Angela promptly stated cheerfully when Brennan and I walked into her office and the anthropologist slipped her lab coat over her arms.

"Or, hello, how was your lunch? as you might have said under different circumstances." I smiled sarcastically around at Hodgins, Zach, and Angela. "Well, we went to Wong Foos and it was nice, thank you. What have you found out while you so kindly devoted your time?"

Zach missed the sarcasm, probably because I hadn't used enough sincere humor for him to be able to tell the difference. I'll admit, sometimes differentiating is hard with me. "You're welcome. Nasal ridges indicated she was a Caucasoid female, approximately five foot ten. Epiphyseal fusion puts her age somewhere between twenty to twenty-five."

"I have a theory," Angela announced, tucking her tablet against her stomach and smirking.

"Femme fatal assassin," Hodgins chuckled.

"Unregistered flight attendant?" Zach guessed helpfully.

Angela just raised her eyebrows at the boys. Knowing what I knew about Angela, I was able to take a guess at her thoughts - prostitute to pass the time. "Young, beautiful girl, doesn't appear on the flight manifest, group of… how powered politicos?"

"Oh…" Hodgins' smirk turned devillish.

I nodded briefly to myself. Bingo. "Yeah."

"Wait. What?" Zach looked back and forth between Hodgins and I, which involved a lot of head turning, since he was between us. I was a bit surprised he didn't get whiplash. "What?"

Brennan crossed her arms but half-extended one hand speculatively, unwilling to jump to conclusions. "Someone on that flight might have been doing his daughter or girlfriend a favor."

Angela's smirk turned into an almost pitying smile. "You're so sweet, honey." The look she gave Brennan would have been insulting, if they weren't best friends. "You really are."

Zach finally got it. He picks up on most sexual implications and innuendos… it just seems to take him about twenty times longer. "Oh…" He nodded and smiled, pleased with himself. "You think she was the 'in-flight entertainment.'"

Angela closed her eyes for a minute. "Yeah." She looked back to Brennan, dismissing the topic now that Zach had successfully made everyone just that much more uncomfortable. "Anything you want to tell us about the bone bits that you actually care about?"

"Supra orbital margin is rounded, suggesting a male," Zach put in helpfully, not seeming to realize the reason for the change of topic.

"Yes, and there are signs of osteolytic liping or polish on the piece of vertebrae," Brennan added, tucking her arms back against her chest.

"Arthritis." I noted and shoved my hands into my pockets, shrugging my shoulders so that the warmth of the sweater's collar pressed against my neck. "Middle-aged victim."

Brennan nodded to me slightly, but that was the only acknowledgment she gave to the evidently correct conclusion. I frowned - her mind was half elsewhere, and with a sinking heart, I realized that she must have been more interested in Jesse and his theories than I had initially believed. I think Jesse is a cool guy overall - mystic, knowledgeable, and polite. But there is a reason that I keep my personal information close to my chest, and that Jesse knew about my foster family's disappearance tested the timid, weak trust in other humans that the team had slowly begun developing. "Weathering and discoloration suggests these bones have been out there for approximately five years." Cue the deepening of my frown, which seemed to go unnoticed. "I'm going to ask you guys to help me on this."

Angela raised one eyebrow, startled but either trying not to let it show or just used to being surprised. "You mean, after the Communist thing?"

"No, immediately." The answer was strong and sure and I let out an unnoticeable sigh as my suspicions were confirmed. She was looking into it with such rapid pacing because of Jesse's arguments.

Maybe my decisions are misplaced. Obviously, I'm biased against Jesse; over time, however a short amount, with growing used to Booth, learning about his character, and being forced into and trusted with mutual protection on the field, I feel much safer with Booth than I do with nearly any other human my age or older. It's only logical that any person deemed an adversary of Booth's is labeled as an adversary of mine. Additionally, men are hard for me to trust, given my delightful history of abuse, so any man who knows something that makes me vulnerable is placed under the not-to-be-trusted-or-alone-with file. Still, while pushing boundaries is good when there's a purpose, Brennan should be more sure that Jesse is worth risking Goodman's wrath for before she decides to prioritize his desires over her own, unfailing rationalizations.

Her motivations, however, didn't give Hodgins any pause. "I'm in!" He announced immediately, sporting a big grin and glancing to the doorway.

"You want us to defy Dr. Goodman." Zach blinked like the thought was plausible but suggested insanity.

"I'm in!" Hodgins asserted again, making sure we all were clear with his opinions.

Brennan pursed her lips. "Not… defy, per se, do both jobs, but… keep one a secret," she suggested. I raised my eyebrows, unimpressed. No matter how you word it, you're still telling him to defy Goodman.

"I'm in!"

Angela looked over at Hodgins at the third iteration and sarcastically assured him, "We get it. You're a rebel."

"If anyone's the rebel here, it's me," I scoffed. "I'm in."

"Stealing my line isn't necessary, Xena." Hodgins frowned at me but I heard the teasing note in his voice.

"It feels like it is."

"Zach, I need you to analyze the cuts on the bone," Brennan told her intern, back to business, ignoring the childish arguments.

Zach winced and shifted his feet uneasily. "I was kinda hoping to keep my job," he answered timidly.

Angela raised her eyebrows at Brennan. "There's not enough skull here for me to do a reconstruction." I'm not sure if she's saying that to try to excuse herself from defying Goodman or if she has an actual qualm with the size of cranial fragment. I mean, of course she does, it's tiny, but still, the sentiment behind it is questionable.

"If I gave you a picture, you could tell me if the skull piece doesn't match?" It was a question that Angela answered with a slow, hesitant nod before she elaborated.

"I could construct a schematic and see if the shard fit the general shape of the skull, if I had a picture." The artist seemed somewhat apologetic.

Hodgins turned to look to Zach in annoyance, his fingers tapping on his upper arms. "Has anyone noticed that I was the first to offer help, and apparently, I'm useless?"

"Not true," Brennan corrected, turning to him. I caught a sort of spark in her eyes, the brown orbs alight. She was enjoying this - not only was it the challenge of a good puzzle, but she could involve her friends in it, and it would be made even tougher and with higher stakes because it had to be kept a secret from their boss. "You and Holly are the ones that's going to keep Goodman from finding out."

"I'm in!" I shouted suddenly, spitting the words out of my mouth. I smirked mischievously when everyone in the room looked over at me with surprise and question. "I had to beat Hodgins to the punch this time," I explained lightheartedly, trying to put Jesse out of my mind. Time to keep Goodman out of the way… I guess being a manipulative bitch and a good liar will help me this time.

I'm not sure if I should be so proud of that not-exactly-good skillset.

Four of us crowded around a smaller desk with a computer, zoomed-in pictures of the bone fragment from the vertebrae on the screen. Zach sat in the chair in front of it, his hand stationary on the mouse and the keyboard left alone. I was on his right. It was kind of difficult to see the screen well, but I'd rather suffer in silence than to lean over him. Hodgins was on the other side, mirroring my pose, but he was standing closer to Zach's chair. Angela was behind Hodgins, at an angle where she could just barely see the screen, but I suppose it was enough for her.

"These here," I told Angela, reaching out and tracing the line of a faint etch on the bone's image before pulling back. "Distinctive ridge mark indentations suggest a sort of knife was used."

"Yes." Zach agreed. I smiled briefly in my own self satisfaction. "Specifically, a carving knife."

"What about the other ones?" Angela asked. I looked over at her and she got the message to specify. She shifted and moved around so she was less behind Hodgins and more behind Zach. "The jagged marks?"

"Some kind of machine blade," Zach estimated.

Angela frowned slightly. "What, like a jigsaw or a chainsaw?"

A masculine cough made me turn around. Dr. Goodman stood expectantly with his hands clasped in front of him and his head tilted at us appraisingly. I felt like I was about to get my hands slapped with a ruler again. I really don't like this feeling. Once he had all of our attention, Goodman began talking in a clipped, measured tone. "Are you suggesting that one of the Chinese diplomats was wielding a chainsaw?"

I was about to open my mouth and wing it but Hodgins spoke before I could, laughing very forcedly. I closed my eyes for a moment, half dreading the conversation and pathetic excuses that I had nearly no doubt would ensue. "Ah! Good one, sir! Very droll!"

I looked over to him and glared, hoping that he would get the message and shut up soon. Not only was it obviously a faked enthusiasm, but it was too out of character not to raise suspicion.

"Ah, Zach knows much more about this than I do, but we weren't discussing a literal chainsaw cut, but rather, the pattern it leaves on the bone." Hodgins continued heedless of my 'shut up' glower and hit Zach harder than necessary in the shoulder. "Right? Zach?"

Zach was caught like a nerd-in-headlights. The expression on his face was highly comparable to that of scrawny kids in high schools when they're caught alone with a couple of antagonistic jocks. He kind of froze up, watching Goodman with big, wide eyes, his jaw dropped open in shock, stunned by the sudden appearance.

"Blades move in several distinctive ways," Angela put in helpfully, trying to make the lies more believable.

"Several distinctive ways," Hodgins echoed with emphasis.

I am never, ever, ever, ever going to ask any of these people to lie again. Hodgins is out of character, Angela is awkward and clearly covering up something, and Zach is… well, pretty much catatonic.

Am I the only decent liar here?

I sighed before raising my eyes to meet Goodman's, schooling my expression and tone so I sounded and looked the way I did in normal circumstances. "Circular, elliptical, segmented. Chainsaws are designed to cut soft materials at high speed. When cutting harder materials - bones, for example - they create wave marks by the action of the blade. However, the pattern on the bone we're observing is too organized and linear for it to have been a chainsaw."

"Therefore, no Chinese Chainsaw Massacre scenario!" Hodgins chuckled again although it still sounded forced and uncomfortable.

Goodman raised a single eyebrow at me, ignoring Hodgins and his sudden bout of stupidity. "Yes, fascinating." It was clear to me that despite his words, Goodman found absolutely no part of my explanation fascinating. "What has it go to do with the victims of the plane crash?"

"And with that task comes not only the reassembly of the skeletal remains, but also the discovery of how the remains were scattered." To my credit, what I came up with was all factual, however I was tweaking the information just slightly to make it seem relevant. That's how good lies work - a lie or two is hard for an intellectual person to swallow, which is why it's taken better with truths to go with it. It adds more credit to the person saying the lie and it cushions the blow, makes it more plausible, when the lie is told.

Zach chose that exact moment to unfreeze and he gave a clearly fake smile that looked more like a grimace. "Not by being cut up, that's for sure!" He laughed nervously.

"And now we've eliminated blades!" Hodgins finished with a bright smile. I glanced to his hands, balled into fists.

Goodman just sighed to himself, rolled his eyes so we could see his annoyance, and then walked away again.

Once he was out of earshot, Hodgins' grin melted off of his face and he loomed threateningly over Zach, hissing through grit teeth. "Never. Freeze. On. Me. Again."

Zach looked up at me like a vulnerable, frightened doe on the side of the road. "I find Dr. Goodman scary," he defended weakly. I stepped forward and punched Hodgins lightly in the shoulder to make him move away from the graduate.

Angela smiled delightedly. "Well, I'm never trusting any of us again," she announced, trying to rally up that team spirit again. "We're that good at lying, huh?"

I groaned softly to myself before facing the three of them again and took it upon myself to give them my honest opinion. "You guys are absolutely disastrous liars."

I rubbed my temples with my fingers, leaning forward between the driver's and passenger's seat of Booth's SUV. "Please, never make them lie to Goodman ever again," I moaned to Brennan. "It was the most pathetic thing I've ever seen."

"Did Zach even talk?" Brennan asked, twisting slightly so that she could see me when I was in the backseat. "He finds Dr. Goodman quite scary."

"He just sort of froze up. How was your meal with Jesse?" I tried not to sound too disapproving.

"It was nice," Brennan answered briefly. I don't think she really wanted to talk about it. "We mostly talked about his father's disappearance."

"Well, you know, I have to admit, Jesse Kane's file on his father is both well organized and complete," Booth finally joined into the conversation after letting me complain a bit. He was grudging to admit that Jesse had done something right - the animosity between them isn't at a really horrible level, but it's there due to Booth's position in the FBI. "Yep… his main suspect is his father's girlfriend, Karen Anderson. No alibi, and since they were living together at the time of the disappearance, she remains in the house and has access to their joint accounts."

"How much money are we talking here when we say 'joint accounts?'" I asked, raising my head from my hands to look at Booth at an angle. "Just to be certain how much of a motive it would be."

"Well, Max Kane, he was a stockbroker." Booth had to slow the car down when we hit a red light, but the red light changed to green the moment we came to an actual stop behind the Mazda in front of us. "He was worth millions, but, you know, after seven years missing, the courts will declare him officially dead. But by that time, she could have siphoned out half the money, so I say we go visit Miss Anderson, and we'll know pretty fast if she's a suspect."

"How?" Brennan asked, looking to Booth regardless of the fact that he was driving and couldn't look back.

"How?" Booth repeated, like it should have been obvious. "Subtle psychological indicators, Brennan."

"I looked those up on the internet," she informed him, sounding thoroughly pleased with herself. "Body language, sweat, tonal quality, shifty eyes." She listed them off like she was in a class.

Booth scowled at her, probably feeling a little cheated. I watched in amusement. If I were still taking that AP psych course, I could probably have written my term paper just on my observations of the interaction of these two. "Hey, you know what? I don't go poking around your bone stuff, okay? Just... leave the human stuff to me."

Photographs littered the mantelpiece with photographs of who I recognized as Jesse, Jesse's father, and the woman sitting across from us with her new boyfriend. It was clear that this was the house of someone who has a lot of disposable income. The ceilings were high and it was a two-story house out in a fairly isolated part of the suburbs with neighbors spaced out a ways away.

The dark blue fabric that made the furniture manifested itself in two couches and two armchairs, one on each end of the sofa that Booth and I inhabited, and Brennan took up one of the chairs. A circular rug of earthy colors was on the floor in the middle of the furniture. Karen and her fiance, Eddie Something-Or-Other, sat across from us on the other dark navy blue couch, except while Booth was on one side of the sofa and I was on the completely opposite end, Karen and Eddie couldn't have gotten any closer if they tried. His hand was on her thigh and the ends of her dark blonde, light brown hair was caught on his shoulder.

"Why has Max's disappearance become a matter for the FBI?" Karen asked, her voice completely calm, although her eyes belied the slight worry she had for the topic at hand.

"Max's disappearance is not an FBI matter," Booth corrected, relaxed and calm, and not with any degree of irritation.

"You're an FBI agent," Eddie felt the need to remind him. Yes, thank you for that, Captain Obvious.

"Human remains were found in the course of a federal investigation. Agent Booth is taxed with the job of identifying them," Brennan explained.

Booth smiled charismatically and apologetically at the two of them although it was directed more towards Karen, who had the personal connection to Max Kane. "I'd like to eliminate Max Kane as a possibility and just move on altogether."

"So… this is a pro forma interview?" Karen tried to figure this out but she really was taking a while. This is about the third time we've said something along those lines.

"Yes. Absolutely," I drawled boredly.

"Because I know Max's son Jesse accuses me of Max's murder," Karen added to me like she was trying to make sure I knew she was cooperating. Due diligence, full disclosure, et cetera.

"Yes, he sure is…" I was about to finish with the term annoying, but I remembered when I glanced over at Brennan that she actually liked Jesse to some extent, so I grit my teeth and finished with, "...Something, isn't he?" I decided to plow onwards before I could get a what's that supposed to mean? look from Brennan. "Why do you think he suspects you?"

Karen shrugged and rolled her eyes upwards, irritated with the question and with the mere mention of Jesse. "Because of the age difference between me and Max? Because I'm still living in the house? Because after five years, I dared to fall in love with someone knew?" She sighed. "Who knows?"

"Some people find it harder than others to get over the loss of a loved one," Brennan squared her shoulders defensively and I clenched my fists in my lap. It's just weird for her to be defending someone who is against Booth.

"Dr. Brennan…" I hissed under my breath, not meaning for her to hear. I'm just frustrated. I don't like Booth and Brennan on opposite sides, it's not right.

"What?" She asked, looking over curiously and slightly upset, because I did sound a bit angry.

Karen interrupted and continued with the interview, inadvertently saving me from the awkward, uneasy conversation that might have been about to ensue. "Jesse got to you, didn't he?" She asked Brennan. I'm not sure whether she's going for understanding or contemptuous. "The dimples and the sad smile, and melancholy on a mission to find his beloved father - you know, all that."

Brennan looked like she'd just been slapped with an expression of stunned confusion. "Jesse didn't love his father?"

Karen scoffed. "Max and Jesse didn't speak for the two years before Max disappeared, and that was before I came into his life." She crossed her arms huffily and her fiance lifted his hand to her shoulder, squeezing softly in comfort.

"What do you think caused the rift?" Booth asked, leaning forward to show engagement.

Karen shrugged to Booth with those big brown eyes looking both earnest and saddened. "Max cut Jesse off financially. Max thought Jesse was lazy, running around New York doing nothing with his life, and, well, Jesse was furious." She's truthful, as far as I can tell… but she wishes that Max and Jesse hadn't had to fight.

Well, that makes me think that she probably didn't kill anyone, so my impressions of her just went upwards, which is good for her, because another reiteration would have made me seriously consider leaving.

I felt much better back at the Jeffersonian compared to the Kane residence. The science facility is quickly beginning to feel more like a home than my apartment - I shook the thought off and focused again on the conversation between the squints.

"The hack marks were caused by a Heidal carving knife," Zach informed with a satisfied nod, proud of himself for the discovery.

"The osteological profile suggests evidence of post mortem freezing," Hodgins ascertained after making sure by looking on his chart again.

Brennan crossed her arms across her chest comfortably and raised her eyebrows, filing the information away and matching it to the information that Jesse had given her. "Max Kane disappeared mid-winter." And I was not disappointed. "What about the jagged cut marks?"

Angela grimaced and looked down to the ground, her face flushing slightly. I couldn't see much of her expression after that because she walked over to the doorway, keeping guard in case Goodman came around, and leaned against the door frame. "This is the part that makes me queasy," she admitted.

"The victim was frozen first, then dismembered second, and thirdly, the body parts were thrown through a woodchipper and scattered over the golf course with all the elegance of a spring rain." I finished, smiling sarcastically and giving Brennan that please understand, I mean this with all the kindness and tact possible look that I've been working on.

Angela groaned softly from the door, making us all look over from the center of the office. "Either talk loudly enough so I can hear all the way, or whisper so I can't," she shot at us very pointedly.

"Maybe if we told Goodman what we know, he'd authorize a change in priorities," Zach suggested, his eyes wandering up to Brennan hopefully. His feet fidgeted.

"Or, he'd suspend us all for defying him," Angela reminded Zach, much more realistically.

Brennan gestured to Angela, but Angela didn't see, so she vocalized. "Angela's right."

Zach's face lit up like a Christmas tree. The hope in his voice was actually painfully audible. "So, we're going to drop this and get back to what Dr. Goodman told us to do in the first place?" He watched Dr. Brennan in anticipation of the answer.

Brennan smiled pleasantly. "No." His shoulders drooped again and I had to cover my mouth with my hand to cover up my smirk. "We are going to keep doing what we are doing behind Goodman's back." She waved the papers in her hand at Zach mischievously.

Hodgins grinned and nodded, totally game with this. "That's the spirit!" He cheered her on in full support. Of course, Hodgins.

"So why did you not disclose that information to us?!" I growled at Jesse as he sat at a table in the interrogation room. I sat on the edge next to him merely so that I could add height and proximity to the intimidation factor as I attempted to glare fire lasers through his face.

"Yeah, it's true, okay?" Jesse sighed and looked towards the wall and away from me - taking most of my intimidation power away in the process. My glare increased in intensity to make up for it. "My father cut me off financially. So, I take it that means you talked to Karen." He said the name of his late father's lover like she was the nemesis of his existence; like a Nazi might have said Jewish, or Batman would have said Joker.

Booth huffed angrily, but he was trying not to be angry for Brennan's sake as he and Brennan stood to the other side of the table. I didn't have to do that - Brennan realizes I'm a generally distrustful and angry person. "Is there anything else you failed to mention to us?"

Brennan looked like her best friend had betrayed her. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Jesse's eyes softened when he looked to her and it took a lot of willpower to resist the urge to jump at him and scratch his eyes out with my fingernails. He was playing her like I play my violin, whether or not it was entirely intentional. "I know I didn't kill my father, so I'd rather you didn't waste your time on that line of investigation."

"Too late," I commented with the coldest voice I thought I could manage without hurting Brennan's feelings and further rubbing it in her face. "What happened between you and your father, then?"

Jesse sent me a dull look with his eyes that conveyed that he would very much like it if I would take his side. Unlike Brennan, empathizing is not all that it takes to make me trust. While sometimes it makes it harder, most of the time it makes it easier, which is why I haven't tried to change it. "About five years ago, I was enrolled at New York University. All I really did was go clubbing and have a good time. My father was right to cut me off." He rolled his eyes spitefully at his past actions. "I was a disappointment to him.

Booth chuckled and sarcastically stated, "But, you know, if he could see you now…"

"I'd like to think he can see me now," Jesse retorted swiftly.

"Your father is dead." Brennan reached out with one hand to place her hand over his closed fist on the table in a gesture of comfort. "A dead person can't see anything."

Jesse went easy on the rationalist. "Maybe that's true, maybe it isn't. But either way, at least I know my dad would be proud."

Booth rolled his eyes at the sentimentality of the display. "Bones, tell Jesse what happened to the victim," he ordered with as little bossiness as I think it's possible to order something with.

Brennan did a double-take. "What - really?"

"What?" Jesse asked, beginning to frown anxiously.

Brennan kept her hand over Jesse's and I clenched my fists tighter until my fingernails were digging painfully into my palm when he rubbed his thumb lightly over the back of her hand. Keep calm… no need to kill Jesse Kane and hide his body in Mexico… it's not a threat. The last time anyone had rubbed my skin had been in a threat to kill me right before I'd been kidnapped and abused. I do not take kindly to strangers touching me, but I take less kindly to people I don't trust touching people that I want to protect.

"It's just that - usually, you tell me not to tell people." She tried keeping her voice down but Jesse was about as close to her as Booth, so it didn't really serve a sort of purpose.

Jesse swallowed. "It can't be worse than some of the things I have imagined."

I took a breath and narrowed my eyes at him, watching him almost analytically for a reaction. "The victim was frozen, dismembered, and fed through a woodchipper." I said it all at once with no semblance of tact whatsoever. He asked. And maybe it'll make him stop flirting with Brennan.

Jesse's mouth hung slightly open and Booth glanced at me shortly but looked away before I could do anything. "Dr. Brennan has figured out what type of woodchipper was used. We're going to trace it to the manufacturer and see if one was sold in Virginia Beach."

Jesse turned his hand under Brennan's so that the back of his hand was pressed to the table and he clasped hers in his. "I can't believe someone would do that to my dad."

I glared at their locked hands, positively fuming. Why can't he just leave her alone?! Why doesn't he realize that the world does not revolve around him and his father?! "Please try to use your seemingly limited mental capacity to realize and remember that the victim has not been positively identified as Max Kane," I spat, pushing myself off of the table.

I looked at the other three. Jesse I didn't care about, but to my satisfaction, he looked down. The others, though… Brennan looked surprised and disappointed and Booth looked almost concerned. I didn't want those two projecting any of those emotions in my direction so I scowled and ran off out of the interrogation room.

I went to the lobby of the FBI building to wait for the other two if they were even tolerant of me any more. I sat in one of the chairs near the desk and far enough away from everyone else to sulk in peace, pulling one of my legs up onto the chair with me setting my thigh over my ankle. I pulled the collar of my sweatshirt up around the back of my neck, let down my hair to hide my face, and gave the strings a strong tug to keep the collar up around my chin.

It took me a bit to realize that I'd been both extremely childish and cruel. After going through my own actions I realized that my spite for Jesse wasn't because he's Jesse Kane, or even because he withheld information. It's because he was displaying affection for Brennan that seemed almost returned and I not only wanted to protect her in the conventional sense, but I wanted to keep her away from people I thought she might need protecting from. Exacting my revenge on Jesse by telling him how someone who he thought might be his father was murdered, and then insulting him, was cold-hearted, even by my standards. Which just further enforces my beliefs that being unattached is better for me.

I just sighed, knowing that there was nothing I could do about it now.

About ten minutes into my session of resigned sulking, I saw someone's shadow fall over most of my legs and I slowly forced myself to draw my eyes up to whoever was standing over me for some inexplicable reason.

I catalogued him right away, because in all my time hanging out at the FBI, the only people to approach me out of free will were Brennan, Booth, the mail carrier from the Donovan Decker case, and the couple of occasional security guards down by the entrance. He was maybe thirty? Somewhere around Booth's age. This guy wore a suit not too different from Booth's. Professional. His belt was plain black and his tie was a normal maroon, no pattern. Uniform. Unlike Booth. His haircut was short and kept close to his head, a dark brown color with the beginning of sideburns. Uniform haircut. Either business or military? Then there was the lack of a lanyard and accompanying badge around his neck that came from being marked as a visitor or whatnot. So… he probably works here. FBI, then, probably wondering what a teenager was doing, sulking in the lobby.

"Hey," he greeted, with a big smile. I responded by blinking and staring up at him blankly. "Everything alright? You've just been here for a while and I started to wonder."

I started to wonder how quickly I could scare him off without also being arrested for harassment, threat, or assault.

"I'm fine," I said monotonously, tipping my head. The collar of my sweater slid off of my face and settled back where it was supposed to be.

The unsociability did not make him leave. Instead he somehow translated the go ahead, I dare you attitude into a hello, I'm lonely, take a seat and talk to me for a while! invitation and sat down to occupy the chair next to me.

Damn.

"So, what's wrong?" He asked with a smile, showing off white teeth along with his brown eyes and tanned skin. He was built strongly - tall and brawny. "You look like you had a fight. Given your age and where we are right now, I'd guess daddy issues?"

I rolled my eyes. He just really wants to know, doesn't he? Well, I can't say I had a fight with the not-boyfriend of someone who I really don't even have a right to know if she even has a boyfriend to begin with or I had a fight because I was trying to protect a perfectly safe, self-reliant woman from someone who posed absolutely no threat whatsoever.

"I don't have a father." Settle for blunt; rude and uncomfortable to the other person.

He wasn't deterred. "Everyone has a father. Unless it's - what's it called, when a woman has a virgin birth?" He seemed serious and he looked up to the ceiling, trying to remember what it was called.

So he's not stupid. Not completely, anyway. And he doesn't seem to want anything in particular and hey, he works here and he could kick me out, but he's not. I decided to humor him for a moment. "The process is called human parthenogenesis," I informed him, pulling my hair back out of my face and reluctantly unfolding my legs. "It's when a particulate triggers the cells of an embryo to begin dividing and multiplying in a differentiating sequence. It's an incredibly rare phenomena yet to be scientifically proven and as such remains merely a curious hypothesis."

He smiled and I realized, cursing internally, that I'd given him exactly what he'd wanted; I'd engaged him. "Wow. You must be really into science, right? Have you won some sort of… tournament or competition or something? Because I think I've seen you before."

I sighed and threw my head back so I leaned against the wall. "I've been in the media a lot," I answered boredly. "I'm the Holly Kirkland girl, so yeah, I'm pretty into science."

He held out a hand to me. "FBI Agent Jamie Kenton. Those things you've done - it's all pretty impressive." So he did recognize my name.

I eyed his outstretched hand but made no move to take it. "I don't shake hands. And yes, I know."

He chuckled, pulling the offending limb back to his body. "Right, yeah, sorry. So, are you alright here by yourself?"

"I'm fine." The last thing I'm going to do is move from this admittedly uncomfortable chair to follow a near stranger God knows where. Even I'm not that reckless. "I'm here with another agent. I'm a consultant."

"Good, good," he hummed and smiled before standing up and reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket. A moment later, he reached down and handed me a small business card with his contact information, holding it between two fingers. "Look, I'm around, so if you need any help or anything, give me a call, 'kay?"

I took it slowly, waiting for it to become something of a trick, but he just smiled at me again, fixed his jacket, and then walked off down the hall and towards the elevators.

I narrowed my eyes after his retreating back. Jamie Kenton… Out of about the two dozen agents to have passed by, why does the painfully cheerful one have to try to make conversation?!