notgoingtorun: (Default)
notgoingtorun ([personal profile] notgoingtorun) wrote 2013-10-19 04:20 pm (UTC)

Neal lets himself fall back onto the bed, and props himself up on his elbows, watching Kate move.

They're in the same boat, Neal and Kate; he has always thrived on fear and adrenaline. You couldn't make it as a con if you didn't, but you still had to do something with all of that extra energy afterwards.

This worked. This always worked.

Neal had always prided himself on being a gentleman thief; that is, he tried to ensure that his crimes had no real human toll, just financial. It didn't make him a good man, it just made him cautious. "Deprived countless museums and collectors of priceless pieces of art, because I could," he starts off with. It's weak, but it's his standard confession, and it's a little hard for him to think right now, as it is. "I abandoned my mother when I probably should have stayed, and instead I ran." It's odd for him to admit that with Kate hovering over him the way she does -- you shouldn't ever be thinking about your mother whenever your breath is coming in pants and gasps -- but he says it anyway. "I was close, so close, to just shooting the man I held responsible for taking away someone I loved, very much. I would have done it if no one had stepped in to stop me." On the grand scale of worst things, that's not too high up there for most people like Neal, but for someone who spent his entire career trying not to hurt anyone, trying to rise above at least that little bit of his father's blood, it was a horrifying thought, how close he was to shooting Fowler because he deserved it.

His fingers twisted in the sheets as he watched Kate intently. "You?" Turnabout is fair play, and if this is confessional time, they both need to be on the same page.


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