CON

@bloomlover​ sent a carrier pigeon.

" so ... this is a lot to take in. "

‘ i know. ’  it’s a loaded statement and an even more loaded answer despite the few words spoken.  tension is thick in the air.  if she gets up, walks out the door, he won’t blame her -- he’d simply felt like he owed her the truth, especially since peter had barged in and thrown a grenade into the midst of their tenuous friendship.  they’re sitting outside and the hustle and bustle of the city is a comforting background noise, a familiar cacophony that drowns out the memories that have come gasping to the surface.

‘ i’m not trying to -- pull one over on you. ’  a reassuring statement, he’s sure;  peter had never taken them at face value.  for once, though, there is not even a molecule of deceit.  she has nothing he needs except these flowers, these little moments of beauty in the middle of his gray stretch of days.  and those moments are something he can’t steal.  a smile, now -- a small one but a smile nonetheless.  ‘ but i can’t lie about what i am.  my past always catches up to me and i won’t blame you if you tell me to never come back here again. ‘

of course, he hasn’t told her even a fraction -- she knows he’s a criminal, knows he’s a forger and a thief and a prison escapee, knows about the anklet that tracks his every step.  she knows about kate  ( in a broad sense, anyway ).  it’s more than he’s allowed anyone to know for some time.

‘ i know i normally go for the roses. ’  she must know he’ll come today ; he is not normally a man of routine  ( in fact, he has learned to avoid routine as much as he can )  but this day marks an exception.  every week he’ll come if possible.  his smile is confident, self-assured, but his eyes are downcast, fingers twitching as he touches a soft, dark crimson petal. when he looks back up at patch  ( a silly nickname, but neal, of all people, can understand needing a name to hide behind )  that blue gaze is somewhat hardened, steeled over with burgeoning clarity.