June paused for a moment to catch her breath as she reached the fourth floor.  She was carrying a tray with her morning coffee and paper.  She had shooed her maid when the latter had offered to carry it for her, but now she wondered whether it wouldn't have been a good idea.  Shouldering on, she made her way down the short corridor to her new tenant's apartment.

She was surprised to see the door slightly ajar. She carefully nudged it open with her elbow, at which point Neal's smiling face appeared behind the door.

"Morning, June."  He moved aside to let her enter.

"Good morning, Neal," she answered warmly.  She noticed the screwdriver in his hand, and the metal parts spread out on the floor. "Oh, I see you're fixing the lock."

Neal nodded. "If you don't mind."

"Of course not. I've been putting it off for ages. Since this place wasn't really being used for anything." She surveyed his work for a second. "Do you want join me in the patio?"

"I can't, Peter will be here soon."  Neal took the tray from her. "But, here, let me take this for you."

June smiled her thanks.

Having settled June in his patio (Neal couldn't help but feel ownership), he went back to installing his new lock. Peter was supposed to pick him up for work, and he wanted this done before his handler appeared.  Peter tended to be cranky in the early morning hours.

But not five minutes later, he was interrupted again. This time it was Mozzie who poked his head in.

"Ah, you're fixing the lock. Excellent idea."

Neal looked up from his work. "Really?"

"Yes, it will keep the Suit out."

"That's not exactly the-"

"Oh, by the way, you might want to buy more Chardonnay, your supply's running low." Before Neal could answer that, Mozzie's face lit up. "Hey, June!"  He hurried over to the patio.

Neal just shook his head and got back to work.  The voices of June and Mozzie drifted in from the patio, discussing a new conspiracy Mozzie had dreamt up that night.

He was just about finished and ready to test out the new lock when Peter swung the door open, barely missing Neal, who was standing behind it.

As expected, Peter was cranky.  "Neal! Why aren't you downstairs? You don't expect me to climb up four floors every morning for a personal wake-up-" he cut off when he realized Neal wasn't where he expected him to be. He spun around, looking for his CI. "What are you doing behind the door?"

"Fixing the lock."

Peter smiled to himself. "That's ironic, don't you think?"

"What is?" Neal had no idea what Peter was talking about.

"You trying to prevent others from breaking in." Peter looked quite satisfied with himself.

Neal just glanced at him pointedly. "It's not break-ins I'm worried about."

He closed the door and inserted the key, locking the door and then checking it worked.

"Hm. Well." Peter moved over to the door, unlocked it, and pocketed the key. "I'll need to make a copy of this." He glanced back at Neal. His CI was dressed, but still barefoot. "Come on, we don't have all day."

Neal just sighed, resigned. But before he had a chance to head off, Peter put an arm out to stop him. He sniffed the air. "Is that coffee?"

"June's Italian roast."

Peter now inhaled deeply. Then he glanced at his watch.  "Oh, I suppose I can spare five minutes. You go get ready."

Neal stood there fore a minute as Peter headed for the patio.  He could hear June and Mozzie welcoming the FBI agent, each in his own way. He had always said locked doors were overrated.

He went to get his shoes.