I do not own the Mentalist and am making no profit from this work of fan-fiction.

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"Exciting development," said Jane, "I think I just cracked the case."

Lisbon's head shot up from her desk. "Took you long enough," she said, trying to pretend she hadn't been asleep.

Jane frowned. She had dark circles under her eyes, and although she'd never admit it, he was pretty sure she'd been drifting in and out all evening.

"Well? C'mon, give it up."

Jane made a hasty decision. "I would, Lisbon, I would tell you, but I think it needs a little more time to – ah, marinate."

"Marinate," she repeated stupidly.

"Oh, well, you know, sometimes ideas – they take a little while to gel. It just needs to – ah, stew . . . Say, are you hungry?" He had intentionally primed her with cooking terms so that she would be susceptible to this suggestion; predictably, though, she claimed she was 'fine' and that they 'needed to focus on the case.'

It didn't escape his notice that she had to swallow before she started to speak. And she licked her lips. He knew she was hungry. She had skipped lunch (again).

"Jane? Are you even listening to me?"

"I'm sorry, my dear, I was distracted by how famished I am. I'm afraid I couldn't possibly discuss this with you until I have something to eat."

"You're kidding me, right? You understand that there is a murderer out there? And you're hungry. Okay, jeez, I think I've got a box of crackers in my drawer . . ."

"Crackers . . . no, that won't do it. I need to have something a little more filling than crackers. Maybe something French? Yes, and a glass of red wine. That should allow me to discuss the case, I think."

"Jane, murderer. Try to focus here."

"There's always a murderer out there, have you noticed that? I bet whether we go out for haute cuisine or not, there's still going to be a murderer, somewhere."

"We are not getting any kind of cuisine. If you want cuisine, you can go get it – after you tell me the new development. Then you can go eat whatever you like."

"Oh, I don't think I could possibly tell you, unless we experience some fine dining first. Terribly sorry, but it's just not going to work, otherwise." He tried to sound legitimately apologetic, but wasn't at all sure he pulled it off. He reached with one hand to collect his jacket where it was slung over the arm of the couch. "Did you bring a coat?"

Lisbon cast a glance at the coat-rack in the corner before she could stop herself, and immediately reverted her gaze to his face. "So this is what, blackmail?"

"Hold that thought." Jane fetched her coat, then stood waiting at the door. "Of course, we can discuss this further, if you'd like." He pitched his voice low enough that she would struggle to hear him.

As he intended, she had to follow him in order to finish the conversation, which left her watching him as he flipped off the lights. She was standing in the semi-darkness until he ushered her out the door in front of him. "Excuse me," he murmured, nudging her forward so he could pull the door shut. "Now, then, Gerard's or La Varenne?"

"Why are we standing out here?" asked Lisbon, as he checked that the office was locked. Although she hadn't noticed it yet, he had also taken her keys.

"I think a nice cassoulet, don't you? Or blanquette de veau? La Varenne, then, to be sure. They have vegetarian quiche that's very good too." Before she knew it, he was sliding her jacket over her shoulders, tucking the loose garment around her body. "Come along, Lisbon."

Lisbon trailed after him a little dazedly. "What just happened?" she asked.