Leslie's really attached to swing sets. Like, really.

This is one of the first things Ben learns after Leslie waves her "essential" badge in his face. The budget meeting doesn't even concern the parks department, but in the middle of a heated debate with a manager from the DMV, Leslie's hand shoots up in the air.

"Yes, Leslie?" Ben asks with a sigh. He can see the wheels turning behind her bright eyes (every time he looks at them, he wonders why they're so big, because they're always suddenly distracting when he's trying so hard to be authoritative), and he actually has to bite back a half-smile because he's sure the words out of her mouth will be silly but enthusiastic and genuine.

(And he wonders why she has to be so innocent, so completely endearing without even knowing it, when his number one job is to play bad cop and not pay attention to the faces attached to the budgets he slashes.)

"I'd just like to point out that the point he's making about the county stickers is similar to that of a quaint swing set in a park-"

(Unfortunately, there isn't always time for it.)

"Can we discuss this at a later time?"

"Of course. Benjie."

He does a double take just in time to see her give an exaggerated wink, like she knows that she holds his dark secret. He starts to sweat a bit as he continues through the meeting, effectively winning the argument with the DMV and cutting the numbers down to something he's comfortable with. Leslie wouldn't blackmail him, right? He's pretty sure the concept alone would shock and offend her, but then again, she's desperate to keep her beloved department the same.

(Could she just be flirting? And really terrible at it? He isn't sure that Leslie has ever considered the concept of flirting. But does he like it?)

(...Wait, what?)

Everyone clears out of the room, and he looks up to see her staying still in her seat, expectantly.

"Oh good," she says, grinning. "So the swing sets-"

"What is it with you and these swings?" he asks, meaning to sound frustrated but finding that hard to do when his mouth is spreading into a smirk.

"Swings were my favorite when I was a kid," she tells him, eyes shining a bit at the memory (and looking even bigger and more vibrant, Ben's discouraged to find. How?). "I used to swing as high as I could while practicing speeches for class president elections. I figured if I could remember a speech on a swing, then it would be even easier to remember it on the ground."

(At first, Ben doesn't really see any logic in that. Then he notices a slight pink tint on her cheeks as she begins to shuffle her papers.)

"You still do that, don't you?"

"Just once or twice," she mumbles, not looking at him. He has the decency not to laugh.

(Maybe because he actually does understand it. Just a little.)