A/N: Hey everyone, I'm back with more Jisbon banter. Summary: Napoleon, ferns and guns, OH MY! Hope you guys like it! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Alas, I must regret to admit that the Mentalist, I don't own it.

Hokey Pokey

There was only one man in the entire universe that Teresa Lisbon would never want to get stranded with on a deserted island. But for some reason, said man, managed to convince her to participate in another one of his parlour tricks.

"Lisbon, focus, I know you're picturing me naked, but try to focus."

Lisbon rolled her eyes as she tried to concentrate on her favourite colour.

"What is the point of th…"

"Uh, uh, uh," he interrupted, keeping his blue gaze trained on her.

She, in turn, watched him like a hawk as he slowly walked around her while she was seated in her chair.

"This is ridiculous, Jane."

"You'll thank me later, as always."

"I can't believe I actually fought to keep you on my team," she muttered.

"I heard that."

"You were meant to hear that. Now, can I please go?"

Clamping his hand down on her shoulder, to prevent her from moving, Jane scanned her office. He had his left arm extended, his index finger acting like the needle of a compass. Raising her eyebrows, Lisbon watched in mild amusement as he swung his arm in a semi circle before freezing at the doorway where Van Pelt was standing. She had the deer caught in the headlights expression on her delicate face.

"Am I interrupting something?" she asked, hesitantly.

"No."

"Yes."

They spoke at the same time. Lisbon tried to send a telepathic message to the younger agent through her eyes. Get me out of here. Van Pelt obviously was more frightened than confused.

"I'm just going to, uh, over there…"

She walked away, keeping her eyes focused on the ground.

"Okay, where were we?"

Lisbon sighed heavily as she looked towards the Heavens.

"Seriously, what did I do in my past life to deserve this?"

"You know that's an interesting concept, Lisbon, past lives. Of course I don't believe in them, but if I did I would have been Napoleon."

"You would want to be a midget French war monger?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Lisbon, you don't get to choose your past life," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Besides, contrary to popular belief Napoleon was actually five foot seven, a respectable height."

"Oh really?"

"Wikipedia never lies."

"Jane?"

"Yes."

"Do your voodoo magic trick so that I can go."

"Gee, no need to be testy."

"Oh I'm way past testy."

Jane resumed swinging his arm before it came to a rest. Looking beyond his fingertips, Lisbon saw that he was pointing to a greyish green standard office filing cabinet against the far wall.

"There."

"It's a cabinet, Jane."

"What's on top of the cabinet?"

"A potted fern."

"Yes."

"Was there even a point to this stupid exercise?"

Straightening up, Jane removed his hand from Lisbon's shoulders and proceeded to do a couple of stretches.

"Hello, Jane?"

"Huh?" he paused as if he had to think of an answer. "Oh, right, you can go now."

Lisbon slowly stood up. She looked positively peeved.

"You just wasted ten minutes of my life."

"Oh, c'mon, Lisbon, when you put it that way…"

She grabbed a hold of his collar and lowered her voice.

"I swear, Jane, if you ever and I mean ever, toy with me like again, I will shoot you."

"How would you be able to do that if your safety is on?" he asked innocently.

"You are unbelievable."

"And you are probably the most beautiful angry person I've ever met."

His face lit up with a Cheshire-like grin across his lips.

"Charm all you want, but it's not going to work on me."

But even as she said it, her grasp on Jane loosened.

"Green," he said suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

"Your favourite colour," he said breezily. "It's green."

"No really, you don't say?" she said sarcastically.

"Okay, what's mine?"

"How should I know, I'm not the psychic."

"Well of course not, there's no such thing as a psychic."

"What did I say about toying?"

"Try it, it works, I can guarantee it," he paused, chuckling to himself. "I said 'it' three times in one sentence."

"Jane..."

"Fine, you're right, technically it's three small sentences. Sue me."

Lisbon looked at him as if he suddenly grew a second head as she released her hold on him. Jane sat down in the seat that she previously had occupied and patted his shoulder.

"If it doesn't work, you can shoot me."

She glared at him but complied. Resting one hand on his shoulder, she held out the other just as Jane had done with her. She spun her arm around, unenthusiastically. To her surprise, her arm suddenly stopped. She was pointing at her shiny new picture frame sitting on her desk.

"Silver," she found herself saying, almost confidently.

"You got it," Jane replied, grinning.

"Really?"

"Yep."

"It worked?"

"Yep."

"And you're not just yanking my chain?"

"Nope."

"My hand seriously stopped on its own."

"Pretty cool, huh?"

"It could have been just a fluke."

But even as she spoke, Lisbon couldn't repress the smile spreading across her face. She was rather pleased with herself.

"I'm a professional. I don't believe in flukes," he paused. "Tell me, what colour was Van Pelt's blouse?"

Lisbon frowned as she thought for a moment. It slowly dawned on her.

"Green."

"See, no flukes," he replied before adding. "Oh, and I forgot the best part of this trick."

"Which is?" she asked, suddenly curious.

"Hold your left hand towards me."

Mimicking Jane's pose, Lisbon did as she was told.

"Now, stick your left hand out."

She rotated her arm away from Jane.

"Stick your left hand in."

Again, she followed.

"And you shake it all about."

This time, Lisbon didn't respond and the smile on her face transformed quickly in a scowl. Jane didn't seem to care.

"You do the hokey pokey and yo…"

He was half-way through his turn when Lisbon lunged at him. Jane darted out of the way and out the door, Lisbon close at his heels. As he was flying through the bullpen, Jane smiled widely, grateful that the safety on Lisbon's gun was on.

Fin for now, Jello forever