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“And now you’re petting my dog,” Peter said. “Neal, why are you here petting my dog?”
The genuine smile that was on Neal’s face fell a little bit as he turned to face Peter. When he assessed that Peter was not truly upset with him, he immediately plastered his con man smile on his face.
“Why Peter,” Neal said, charmingly. “I was just having a conversation with Elizabeth, here. Plus I had to make sure Satchmo approved of it here.”
“Oh, you were searching for Satchmo’s approval. What about my approval for you being outside your radius?”
Neal just looked at Peter like he was an idiot and said, “Peter, you can tell a lot about a person by how they treat their pets.”
Peter just gaped at Neal as Neal turned back to Satchmo and cooed at him scratching him behind his ears. He didn’t even seem to mind the dog drool that dripped onto his designer suit. Peter made distressed eyes at El over Neal’s head. She just shrugged and gestured at the cute scene that Neal and Satchmo were acting out. Peter let out a sigh.
“Ok, Dog Whisperer, come on. We have work to do,” Peter said. Neal pouted and dutifully followed, but not without another scratch to Satch’s head.
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Peter all but forgot about the incident. After all, it wasn’t that surprising that Neal liked dogs. A lot of people liked dogs and gushed over them and Neal’s cooing couldn’t have been considered extreme according to any definition. Until they were on their way to Le Joyau. Neal was clearly excited about the case. Peter rarely saw the conman as excited as he was for fashion week. He had to endure the conman smiling and raving about all the different designers who were going to be featured for weeks. And add a potentially forged pink diamond on top of that?! Neal was practically bursting at the seams, or at least as excited as the suave conman got.
So when Peter turned around to speculate with Neal and he was nowhere in sight, Peter panicked. Peter knew that Neal wouldn’t run, not when he was presented a case this interesting because as much as a flight risk that Neal was, he also had an insatiable curiosity.
Jogging back to the alley to check it before he did something drastic, he sighed in relief seeing Neal there, though, he was crouched low to the ground. That worried Peter. He never saw Neal doing anything but standing tall and proud except for when there was an injury.
He went over to him, clasped his shoulder, and said, “Neal.”
Peter watched as Neal wrapped his arms protectively around something and looked up to meet Peter’s eyes. Peter was about to ask what he was doing when he heard a small *meow* come from the cradle that Neal’s arms created. He looked at Neal exasperatedly. Neal, in turn, turned on his puppy dog eyes and curled his arms ever so slightly tighter.
“We can’t leave him here,” Neal insisted.
“Neal,” Peter said. “We’re already running late, we can’t not make it to Le Joyau on time. This is a serious matter.”
Neal shook his head and said, “Peter, you can go ahead, but I will not be going until Mr. Mittens is safe in my apartment.”
“You’ve already named it?” Neal scowled.
“I’m not leaving him here. You can head over and I’ll catch up so I’m not late, but Mr. Mittens will be safe in my apartment with a full belly by the time I get there.”
Peter and Neal had a brief staring match before Peter exhaled, all the fight leaving him. Sometimes Neal is just so stubborn!
“Fine,” he said. “But if you are more than fifteen minutes late, I will call the Marshals on you.”
Neal disarmed with a large and genuine smile, one that Peter recalled only seeing once before, before standing up and running off with the cat in one fluid and graceful movement. By the time Peter turned around, Neal was already halfway down the block. Peter shook his head in fond frustration before continuing on his way to determine if this diamond was a fake or not.
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Peter began to sense a pattern when he asked Neal about the Antioch Manuscripts. He had overheard what Neal had said to the college students, and he didn’t believe it. Carrier pigeons were a virtually dead breed of pigeons as they hadn’t been used regularly for centuries. How Neal would have gotten a hold of real and functioning carrier pigeons was anyone’s guess. And because Peter couldn’t not dig, he approached the subject shortly after the copycat case was completed.
It was a quiet night; Elizabeth had a late event that needed catered, the bureau just finished a case, and Mozzie was in Gotham at an underground auction for repurposed Bat tech or something. Peter didn’t know and he didn’t ask, it was safer for his sanity that way. So Peter invited himself over to Neal’s apartment to watch the game with some company. Neal had been reluctant at first, but accepted Peter’s presence with, what Peter dubbed, fond annoyance. So here he was, drinking beer, watching the game, and petting Mr. Mittens, who Neal was still in possession of.
“Hey, I wanted to ask you something,” Peter said.
Neal looked up from his painting, an irritated look on his face, before he sighed and wiped off his paintbrush.
“Yes?”
“So, it’s about the Antioch Manuscripts.” Neal’s face scrunched up a little bit before smoothing out.
“What about them?” Neal asked.
“Well, you said to those kids last week that you stole them by sending the bank codes via carrier pigeon”
“Allegedly.” Peter shot Neal an unimpressed look, to which Neal replied with a sheepish grin and a shrug.
“Ok, how then did you, allegedly, get your hands on a carrier pigeon? They are practically nonexistent now.”
Neal gave a little chuckle and said, “Well, pigeons have a pretty long life span and I had trained Estelle when I was still young. I actually got her when I still lived at home, which is where she was trained.”
“You trained a carrier pigeon when you were a minor living at home? What kind of home life did you have?”
Neal’s face darkened a bit, before that look vanished and said, “Oh, and Peter? Estelle is a Homing Pigeon, not a Carrier Pigeon. At least know your bird species.”
He then smiled and avoided Peter’s question altogether, going back to painting and leaving Peter with more questions about Neal than he had before.
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Peter didn’t know what he expected when he walked into Neal’s apartment. Usually, everything was well organized and the sight of a regular, if not expensive, apartment. However, he also often came into criminal masterminds scheming together, Neal being drunk, Mozzie spouting off government conspiracies, incriminating artwork being forged, among other things.
What Peter did not expect to ever walk in on was an actual live cow standing in the kitchen where Neal’s table and chairs were normally housed.
“Why is there a cow in your living room, Neal?”
“Her name is Batcow. Alfred informed me that she missed me, so she is here for the week.”
Peter pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath and trying to center himself. It was 7 o’clock on a Monday morning and he was not prepared to deal with this.
“Does June know?”
“Yeah, she knows. She said it was fine as long as someone was with her at all times to make sure she doesn’t cause any messes. Luckly, Mozzie volunteered, so we can’t leave until he gets here in.. about three minutes.”
“Mozzie scheduled to swing by, to watch your cow, at seven twelve in the morning on a Monday?”
“What can I say? The man works in mysterious ways Peter,” Neal said as he flipped on his fedora and opened the door to Mozzie standing with his fist up about ready to knock. He opened his mouth and then shut it just as quickly, walking inside and passed Peter, with a mutter ‘Suit’ to the cow standing in Neal’s living room.
“She’s a beautiful specimen Neal, really,” Mozzie said. Neal beamed with pride before gesturing to the door.
“Shall we?”