𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 penelope’s cherry lips stiffened every fiber in jj’s body. the starting note to i don’t know what you mean is fresh on her tongue until it settles into a dry laugh. a laugh which rids her from the FEAR which had gripped her. penelope had known, of course she had. william lamontagne was not single, at least, not according to the information jj had and she was routinely the first to know. if it were meant to be kept a secret, all under wraps, that was shunted out the window. simply because penelope garcia knew. “ oh, really? is that all she said? ” jennifer reminded herself, urged herself, to scorn emily for this. he had asked her once, after their case in new orleans, and then again . . . again . . . and once more. it seemed as though their busy schedules was no longer an excuse she could surmise in his presence --- even if it were over the phone. “ well, ” the smile catching onto her face like fire cannot be kept from light, but jj leans over and shyly whispers to her girlfriend, “ we’re on for dinner this friday. if everything goes well. ” one would say she doesn’t kiss and tell, but one hasn’t met penelope garcia.