Jane was not going to say anything, no matter how badly he wanted to. Lisbon had been dancing around something all afternoon, obviously struggling with a question she wanted to ask him. He had formed a personal resolution not to make the first move.

He did poke his head in her office at the end of the day.

She had her back to the door – usually she didn't stand that way, preferring to 'keep the sightlines clear,' whatever that meant. Clearly she was distracted.

There were two dresses, both black and short, hanging from her ceiling fan. They were both on wire hangers, although Jane could tell at a glance that they were designer items that warranted garment bags. Lisbon was glaring at them as if they had personally insulted her. Jane was not saying anything.

"I'm going to take off for the night, Lisbon," he told her calmly, seeming not to notice her state of agitation. "See you tomorrow."

She had known he was there, and turned around slowly. "Oh, Jane, uh –," Lisbon lapsed into silence, looking tongue-tied. Jane held his breath. "Come in a sec, would you?"

Good girl, Teresa. He beamed and stepped forward eagerly, while simultaneously trying not to push her. If she wanted something, she had to ask for it.

Silence.

Ok, he would take pity on her just this one time, but only because she was so endearingly bad at this: "Something you needed?"

Lisbon ran a hair through her dark hair and looked frustrated. "Well, uh, sorta. There's this stupid – thing." She waved her hands uselessly to indicate the 'thing' she was supposed to do, and Jane nodded understandingly although he really didn't know what she was talking about.

"Ah ha."

"Alright, don't laugh. You aren't going to laugh, are you? You're going to laugh at me."

"Okay, I won't laugh. I promise," said Jane, serious, but with a smile already tugging the corners of his lips.

"I'm supposed to be going undercover tonight," Lisbon revealed.

Jane raised an eyebrow.

"I'm supposed to be the kind of rich woman that would hire someone to kill her husband. Tonight I meet with a suspect we've been contacting over the internet, to arrange a hit."

Jane frowned. This sounded a little dangerous, although it was ridiculous to worry about someone who spent her days in contact with, by definition, the worst criminal offenders in the state of California. And those were good days. Bad days they dealt with congressmen.

"And what, you want me to go with you? Or you want some advice about maintaining a cover?"

"What? No! I happen to be great undercover - always have been." Lisbon scowled at him and Jane took a well-considered step backwards. She looked just mad enough to hit him. "Just because you claim to know when I'm lying doesn't mean everybody else can."

"Of course," he nodded. 'Translucent,' he had called her once, but he knew better than to argue with an angry woman. At least not when she was armed. "I'm sure you'll be very convincing."

More glowering. "I didn't ask you in here for encouragement, Jane, I need fashion advice."

"Oh. Great!" said Jane. "Because I'm actually much better at that." He strode forward with obvious enthusiasm to examine the dresses. Hmm, similar weight, comparable sizes, one with overlapping straps of fabric, the other with a noticeable sheen.

"I need to project 'classy,'" said Lisbon helpfully. "Does one of those say 'classy' to you?"

"Hmm," said Jane.

"If I can't sell 'classy' we're going to blow this op," Lisbon fretted. "Man, I should have gotten Van Pelt to do this. But I know she's got her family in town this week. I think she says 'classy' better than I do. It's the height."

"Stop saying 'classy,'" Jane instructed. He compared necklines, scoop neck versus boat neck. Always a tough call. "This woman you're trying to be, she wouldn't call it that."

Lisbon came to stand next to him as he examined the hem of one of the dresses, trying to see what he saw. "Oh yeah, what would she call it?"

"Hmm. Good question. Not elegance, not breeding – 'refinement.' That's why you're going to pick this dress." He indicated his preference with an elaborate wave of his hand. "It's refined."

"That one's shorter," Lisbon objected. "I think the other one will cover my thigh holster better."

Hmm, thigh holster. No, he was going to stay on task. "It has less detailing. The lines are clean. No distractions. That's who this woman is, she cuts down the nonessentials. That's what her husband has become, a distraction, and she's going to refine him right out of her social calendar. It's . . . classic."

He held up the dress in front of Lisbon, picturing her in it, her little face twisted with spite and distain. Whoops, that was kind of hot, actually. Hmm. "The woman who wears this dress to meet with a hit-man – she's powerful, intelligent . . . sensual. This dress will convince him that she is who she says she is."

"Don't get carried away," said Lisbon, whose eyes had narrowed at 'sensual.' "It's just a dress."

Yes, it was. It would only work if the woman inside of it could pull it off. But somehow, Jane wasn't worried about that. "Wear this one," he insisted.

"Fine." She pulled it down off the hanger and slung it over her arm. "Alright, I'm going to meet with Minelli and get wired. You're taking off, right? Have a good night."

Jane had a feeling his plans for the night had just changed to prowling the halls of the CBI building until he caught sight of Lisbon in the dress he had picked out for her . . . and then, of course, waiting for her to return safely. But no need to mention that to her. "Good luck," he replied, turning to go.

Lisbon sighed, started to say something, cut herself off, and started again, obviously reluctant - then finally muttered, "Thank you, Jane."

A slow smile spread across Jane's face, even reaching up to his eyes. "Happy to help."

FIN

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