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“So, let me get this straight. Your idea of a fun and laid back team dinner is making us grill our own food?”
Cho looked over at Rigsby, giving him his signature stoic stare. “I never said it was laid back.”
Jane, who had already been warned about the nature of barbecue smoke clinging to clothes, began to roll the cuffs of his shirt, currently sans jacket. He smiled lazily. “I think it’s good to get in touch with your more basic instincts, grilling raw meat, swilling alcohol over a communal flame. So what if you burn a little extra energy and have to sweat for your meal? Life can’t all be silver platters, Rigsby.”
Lisbon, who already knew Jane would decidedly not be manning the grill, rolled her eyes. “I’m with Rigsby on this one. Once you’ve had to manage regular dinners for three growing teenage boys, these kinds of places lose their appeal.”
“Well, I think it’s very nice of Cho to take us out to eat,” Van Pelt added sweetly. She’d just returned from her White Hat computer training and had sorely missed her team. In all honesty, the idea for this dinner was partly to celebrate her return, partly to make up for the stripper someone had thought was a good idea for Lisbon’s 10-year party.
More than a bonding experience, Korean BBQ with coworkers could very nearly classify as a teamwork initiative. Sure, it was a little more elaborate than a closed case pizza or three split five ways, and required some degree of communication and coordination, but no one would die – right?
The CBI group was seated quickly, clustered around a tabletop grill grate. An entire arsenal of utensils awaited, with tongs of varying sizes and chopsticks stood up in cups on either end of the table. Slates of sauces and small bowls of banchan were laid out, looking comically small in front of Rigsby especially. Jane lazily flipped through the meat menu while Van Pelt neatly laid out her allotted tools. Lisbon, meanwhile, had a distant stare as the boss-brain activated behind her eyes.
Cho kind of anticipated this becoming dinner and a show. He just didn’t realize how quickly.
When the waiter returned, Cho started the table off with a simple order, a few classic cuts of meat that shouldn’t have anyone turning red for the wrong reasons. The men ordered beers, but then Jane threw in a request for three bottles of flavored soju. Lisbon’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head.
“Slow down. We haven’t even begun cooking yet, let alone eating.”
“What? We’re here to celebrate you, Grace, and another case closed. The bottles aren’t even that big, look,” Jane protested, gesturing to another table. The couple seated there looked very well-versed in this sort of dinner scene. Lisbon rolled her eyes but eventually relented.
“How’s everyone’s spice tolerance?”
It was a question Cho should have started with, admittedly, but who said he wasn’t allowed to have a little fun too?
“Tch, no problem,” Rigsby said, already reaching for the bowl with cucumbers in it. “I can handle almost anything.”
Van Pelt answered next. “I’m not huge on heat, if we’re being honest.”
Jane smiled. “I could help you with that, you know. Simple biofeedback tricks, you wouldn’t even break a sweat.”
“Thanks, but I just don’t like it when my food bites back.”
Lisbon just shrugged. She could take it or leave it, but it was her most of all that Cho didn’t want to accidentally make sick. Jane seemed pretty confident in himself too, and he was pretty sure Rigsby was bullshitting. But then again, he could act like a human garbage disposal when he wanted to. And right now, he was snacking on all the side dishes before the first meat had even touched the grill.
The first round of meats arrived with the soju, several shotglasses, and the beers, and so before anyone began the chaos of cooking, Cho and Jane poured everyone some of the clear liquor.
“Welcome back Grace,” Jane said, raising his shotglass. The others echoed the sentiment as their redhead smiled.
“Good to be back.”
“Sorry about the stripper, Lisbon,” Rigsby said next, clearing his throat. The boss’ eyebrows raised upwards with mild amusement.
“Good work on the case today,” the brunette managed, always reluctant to dole out compliments to her team for work that was expected of them. At least this time they managed to close without one of Jane’s inadmissible evidence incidents.
“And good luck with dinner,” Cho added, deadpan as ever. Rigsby looked worried.
“Wait, what do you mean, good luck?”
But he went unanswered, as the CBI five toasted. Cho added, “Jjan,” and the others echoed the sentiment. The clear, fruited liquid went down easily as the glasses were placed back on the table, clink-clink-clink.
Lisbon hummed, usually used to taking shots of tequila in her windowed office after. “Wow, what was that? Water? I expected more of a kick.”
Jane laughed. “Ohp, careful, Lisbon. Soju has a way of sneaking up on you.”
“Oh, please. I’m always careful.”
Without further ado, it was time to start the real work for this evening. Almost instinctually, Lisbon – having paid the most attention to their server’s indication of the cooking times – grabbed a set of tongs and instructed her subordinates. “Okay, this one’s for raw meat. Use your clean ones to grab your food. Don’t cross-contaminate, I won’t accept any call-outs for a stomach bug tomorrow morning.”
After that, it was off to the races. Cho couldn’t keep Rigsby from eating all the banchan before the food was finished – noodles, cucumbers, kimchi, and tofu skins, all gone. Jane and Lisbon kept up a healthy rapport of soju shots, which Grace tried to quietly intercept with water. Jane also kept using his tongs to gesture and Lisbon was one click-clack in her face away from pitching his utensil across the room.
Cho eventually came in with the grill assist as food was finished cooking, using the scissors to portion out finished servings of pork belly, shortribs, bulgogi, and others. The restaurant had slowly grown more occupied, making the conversation a little louder, atmosphere a little hotter, and smoke a little stronger. Before long, they ordered a second round of just about everything.
“You know you’re allowed to stop and eat too,” Jane said in a low voice to Lisbon. She was looking a bit flushed in the face from a mixture of the alcohol and heat radiating from the grill.
“Yeah, I know. I’m fine, trust me,” she said a bit loudly over the restaurant ambiance. Lisbon pulled a rather utilitarian rubber band from her purse and began to gather her smoke-kissed curls away from her face. “I’m having fun, I promise.”
Leave it to her to find fun in micromanaging meat arrangement over a hot flame.
But Jane didn’t prod her any further, instead turning his attention to Grace to ask her about the programming classes. He didn’t understand a single thing she was mentioning – what little about covert hacking she felt like disclosing over a dinner table – but he very kindly hummed, “You’ll have to show me some time, then,” each time their youngest brought up a new technique she was excited to try on active duty.
Lisbon finally stopped to eat something for herself just as Rigsby was going for a third round of food to order. He was making quite liberal use of the “All You Can Eat” indication on the menu. Old plates were cleared, new ones were ferried over, and Cho looked at his friend and said, “You know they charge extra if you leave leftovers.”
“What, you can’t just take them home?”
“Nope. You have to finish what you order. So, stop eating all the damn cucumbers.”
Rigsby swallowed a nervous mouthful of air and adjusted his shirt collar. “No problem, we can finish everything.”
“Who’s we?” Lisbon asked, enjoying a variety of things she’d piled into a lettuce leaf, giving herself some illusion of health and mindfulness. Once her eyes had broken their hawk-like watch on the grill, the swoopiness of going shot for shot with Jane on the soju was immediately evident. “You overorder, you’re on your own.”
Rigsby scoffed. “Well it takes so long to cook the food and I’m still hungry right now.”
“Yeah, but you won’t be as hungry when everything settles,” Van Pelt said gently. For a grown man with a history in arson investigations, their jockish Rigsby really could be a bit of a child sometimes.
“And what do you mean everything is taking too long?” A hint of angry Chicago slipped past the smaller woman’s lips.
“Nothing, boss. You’re doing great. I’m just really hungry, that’s all.”
“Yeah, well, when your order comes, you’re on your own.” Lisbon handed over the keys to the kingdom, or at least, the grill. Rigsby took the proffered tongs and squared his shoulders.
“Like I said, no problem.”
At least at this point Lisbon did look somewhat relaxed. The potent combination of food and alcohol finally tipped her past the point of unclenching her jaw. She leaned away from the heat and put her head back against the wall behind her, shrugging the collar of her shirt open a bit more. She could already tell the smokey tang of the barbecue had permeated down to her bra – a full shower and a load of laundry would be in order when she got home tonight.
Jane smiled as he noticed her defenses lowering, though her features wavered with a tension that he could see was Lisbon actively fighting the buzz that was massaging the lines out of her brow. She refused to be drunk in front of her subordinates. He wouldn’t draw attention to it, but he would savor it quietly. A loosened up, lazing Lisbon was more intoxicating than the third bottle of fruit soju on the table, its two fellows already bested.
There was no thought yet to who would be driving home and who would be footing the bill. Lisbon had offered to cover Grace as her welcome back gift, but Rigsby also rushed to offer when he realized he was a step behind their senior agent. Jane suggested they find a way to get the CBI to cover the expenses.
“You’re saying that because you ordered three bottles of booze,” Cho said.
“And they’ve equally benefitted four agents and one consultant in this very important work matter,” Jane replied. “Everyone’s relaxed, having a good time.”
“Even when they give us a per diem for travel, alcohol isn’t expensable,” Lisbon said.
“Ah, you law enforcement are no fun.”
“This isn’t a party, Jane.”
“Oh, don’t make us wait another ten years for the next one.”
Lisbon rolled her eyes and tipped her head back against the wall once more. Jane handed her a glass of water and she started sipping it quietly, not acknowledging his gesture.
While they talked, Rigsby’s final round of food came out, looking more like the first serving for a party of at least three more than there were already seated.
“Okay, my eyes may have been bigger than my stomach,” he admitted sheepishly.
“Better start grilling,” Jane chuckled.
Suddenly the evening went from Korean barbecue to poorly coordinated hibachi-style entertainment as the man came to terms with exactly how many dishes he’d ordered – several names of which he’d already forgotten. Suddenly grill management wasn’t as easy or fun as Lisbon had made it look. Everyone’s plates and sauces were shuffled around the table to make way for Rigsby’s rations and to remove as much empty dishware as possible.
After offering Grace another pour, Jane took it upon himself to sip down the last bottle of soju. He too was veering dangerously close to something unprofessional, but the consultant was entirely too convinced of his ability to maintain the illusion of sobriety, fooling onlookers and his own brain.
“You’re not going to like that one,” Cho warned Rigsby as he slapped down something marinated so strongly it was almost cartoonishly red. “It’s spicy.”
“Please, you said that about the kimchi and that was fine.”
“Okay, well, you’re really not going to like this one. Trust me.”
“Who’s the one with the grill tongs here? That’s right, Lisbon entrusted them to me. Besides, if it’s really that spicy, better it happen to the arson expert, right?”
Grace chuckled, shaking her head as she sipped her soju. She turned her eyes towards her boss, who was dipping her chopstick into one of the concoctions of sesame oil, salt, and pepper before sucking the sauce off of it. The redhead declined to comment on that as she smiled and leaned in.
“Hey, Lisbon. I just wanted to thank you again for sending me to the program. I’m really excited to apply what I learned there. And I’m glad to see nothing around here changed while I was away.” She quickly flashed a look to her side, where the boys were still arguing over the sizzling marinade that was actually stinging her eyes a bit, even from here.
“No problem, Van Pelt,” Lisbon said, putting the chopstick down and doing her best to pull all the soju-softened angles of her back towards something authoritative. “You’ve taken a lot of initiative over the years, and it only helps the team thrive when our agents know their stuff.”
Grace nodded, certain that was as close to praise as Lisbon would come. They’d gotten used to that, over the years – learning to read into her affirmations. Jane wasn’t the only one who could read between the lines.
“Right. Well, thanks for trusting me.”
The women nodded. Grace blinked once, twice, and then coughed a little at the smoke in the air, now tinged with a potent heat. “Oh, god, Wayne. That’s going to be really spicy.”
“It’s fine. But, seriously, guys, someone has to help me finish this. Who wants a piece?”
Cho, despite not wanting to bail out his coworker for the amateurish move, nodded and took some of the spicy pork belly into his bowl. He kept his trademark stoicism even in the face of the threat of spice, his face unflushed since he’d been responsibly drinking water since their initial toast.
Lisbon said she’d try a piece too, and Jane, sensing Rigsby’s desperation, also accepted the offering. One by one the team ate their portions with trepidation, watching one another as if someone had received a poison dose.
“Oh, that’s not bad,” Rigsby was quick to say after swallowing down his first bite. “See, I can handle a little–”
He coughed.
Lisbon shrugged. “This is really good, but I seriously cannot eat another bite.”
Rigsby coughed again and Jane reached for his soju quietly, eyes scrunched a bit as the spice began to hit him in the back of the throat as well. “Alcohol on heat, not the greatest solution,” the consultant wheezed.
“Are you guys serious? Yeah, it’s hot, but it’s not that hot,” Lisbon said, putting down her dish and pushing it as far away as she could amid the battlefield of bowls, cups, and utensils.
“No, no, it’s – yeah, that’s got a little kick. Sneaks up on you,” Rigsby winced. He saw how much food was still left, including the offending element, and Jane could see the gears turning in his head as he weighed the potential waste fees versus stuffing himself silly. Which cost would he rather eat?
“Oh, give me the tongs,” Grace muttered, shoving aside the spicy pork belly and working on grilling the several other plates he’d ordered.
As the team each slowly hit their absolute limits, Grace continued cooking and doing her best to try to help Rigsby finish what he’d started. She, who had been eating very politely and conservatively for most of the meal, managed to put away a surprising amount of the would-be leftovers. Even Lisbon couldn’t hide her visible surprise.
“What? My dad’s a football coach,” Van Pelt shrugged.
—
In the end, they’d managed to mostly save Rigsby from getting slapped with a fine, but Lisbon was beginning to expect he was going to call out in the morning anyways. He was walking back to the car like a man carrying the weight of his sins, as delicious as they may have been.
“This was a fantastic idea, Cho,” she said with a bit of a put-on smile as they walked. Lisbon lowered her voice, “Let’s not do it again any time soon, okay?”
Cho nodded. “No problem. Next time, we’ll go somewhere that involves a little less ego.”
“Or actual strategy,” Van Pelt added.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jane said, “With an arson expert, a football coach’s daughter, and the eldest of three siblings, you all could run an entire restaurant if you applied yourselves. Let’s try a Brazilian steakhouse next time, where they bring everything on swords.”
“Yeah, great. Because a table with flames in it wasn’t enough of a headache. Let’s put meat on swords.”
“Oh, please, woman. I’ve seen you lick a bear claw crumb off your knuckle while holding a gun.”
“You have not!”
“Wow, you really are three sheets to the wind, Lisbon.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll take those three sheets and put you six feet under if you don’t knock it off–”
All in all, not the worst night they’ve ever had as a team in the field. And no one died, which in their line of work was never a guarantee.