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Closed case pizza at the office or sometimes the local dive bar became one tradition that blurred the lines. Apology origami was another. There would be some moments, when Teresa Lisbon stayed at his house due to her then near-ex-boyfriend’s fear issues, where Virgil Minelli would curse those traditions. He’d seen Teresa Lisbon’s future by the time the infamous consultant joined them. Whatever had happened with her former mentor Bosco had shaken the already fragile strength it had taken to leave her Chicago kiddo-siblings when adoration only showed up as ghosts of emotion toward her late mother.
Virgil knew not to prod. Thus, at-first the consultant, who clearly had more to his sad-puppy eyes, had been a half-hearted experiment in challenging her hardened heart. There were few agents who had the spirit the fake psychic former carnie possessed. His attitude was made of a fox as a mask and a wolf as his shadow. As long as you kept track of the level both pivotal pieces existed, you’d have some rein over him.
The problem was Minelli noticed the tug Patrick Jane threw back at Teresa Lisbon. Con men and saints rarely danced together and even more rarely chose to come back to it after they’d been put to take the same dance lessons together. It had been the goddamn origami. One moment they were riffing, the next they were poking back and forth in a way Minelli saw actually get under the consultants skin, and said consultant didn’t seem to notice it as much.
He saw the spark among them when Patrick Jane sent Teresa Lisbon tiny scavenger hunts for what seemed a physical manifestation of what was left of the consultant’s heart. Thus inadvertedly, Minelli’s gaze had planted the water cooler talk. Saint Teresa was meaner to the consultant in a way that left room for the loss of her adoration to be tabled. The former fake psychic was softer in his gaze in ways that made Minelli protective of Teresa Lisbon. Men like him closed cases and had the most closed of hearts, a notable characteristic that meant helpers like Teresa Lisbon would never be out of the job.
So when the consultant sent a dashing indirect grin towards his surrogate daughter and she gleamed when she thought no one was looking, Bosco and his team’s death was the cherry on top. He would be there for her while he wasn’t sure he could keep her from the enchantments of a madman he had accidentally unleashed upon her. Years later, after the madman had proven the fires of his heart truly burned to temper and not destabilize the tundra of her walls, he would approve. In the meantime, he inwardly grimaced when they shared a couch and their bodies were magnetic while being very intentional not to touch.