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She knows she's probably not meant to overhear this particular conversation, but then she has a lifetime of overhearing things she was not meant to. Amused, she pauses, continuing to listen as she perches on the arm of their couch.

Vinnie has turned their shared bedroom into a domestic version of Mission Control: there are at least two tablets, one laptop, and a home assistant (an Amazon Alexa, whose only strenuous contribution to their home so far was to play all of Bob Dylan's "Highway 61" on a loop) cued up in an effort to locate the most perfect, most thoughtful, most worthy birthday present for his future wife.

No small feat, considering that in previous years Isabella Pendergast has received (in no particular order): an antique elephant gun, the preserved remnants of an Icelandic glacier, the deed to a small Shinto temple, and an emerald of such exquisite cut and clarity that it almost certainly should have been a museum piece (if it hadn't been already).

"I'm stumped, as usual," he admits into his cell phone, a furrow wedged between his eyes. "I've got forty-eight hours and I'm starting to sweat --" he pinched the underarm of his t-shirt and held it briefly away from his body." On the other end of the line, Vinnie's father was attempting to let him down gently: no matter how hard you try, no matter how long you may have known a Pendergast, giving them a gift is always going to be a losing battle.

And while Isabella loved each and every one of those gifts, it wasn't because they were expensive or elaborate. It was because they meant something -- both to her and the giver. Which meant anything that Vinnie chose for her would be equally as loved and treasured. Because it was from him, the most important person in her life.

Deciding to put him out of his misery, she pushed off the couch and entered the bedroom. Silently, of course. The plan was to be so silent, that Vinnie would have no clue she was there. Not until she was taking the mobile from his hands and bidding farewell to her (soon to be) father-in-law.

With a small smile, she handed it back. "What's all this?" As if she didn't know...

Vinnie managed a protracted "bye, Dad" before the phone was whisked out of his hand, his brain tripping over itself to come up with a reasonable explanation for why it looked like a RadioShack had exploded in their bedroom.

"Uh," great start, Vinnie. "Nothing. You know. Work stuff." He slapped the screen of the laptop shut. "Boy, you are, you're really sneaky. Do you know that?"

"So I've been told. Several times by your father, actually." As there were days Isabella was certain her future father-in-law still saw her as the ten year old who attempted to tell the NYPD how to do their job.

Of course, in her defense, he didn't exactly have the best or the brightest on his team back then. They let a ten year old onto a crime scene...

"Work stuff...I see..." Oh, Vinnie. Vinnie, Vinnie, Vinnie. You know what comes now, right? "Well, why don't I help you? Lend a fresh pair of eyes."

"I, ah, I think I've got it, actually. What are you up to? Hm? You know, I think I saw that we got the latest issue of Erstwhile Detective Wunderkind Magazine in the mail today. It's in the living room. You should, uh, go check it out. I've sticky-noted some of the pages. There's an article about nocturnal exsanguination that I thought you'd like."

All of this as he is surreptitiously gathering up tablets and other remaining pieces of incriminating birthday evidence.

Hell, he knows he's been had. 'Nothing says he's not got a right to his dignity.

Edited 2018-05-04 00:31 (UTC)

"Nocturnal exsanguination, hmmm? You do know me so well." And she had been meaning to sit with the magazine once it arrived. "Almost makes me think we should take a trip to Romania. After the wedding, of course." Going anywhere before the wedding was out of the question. Maybe she'd look into adding on a few days to the Honeymoon. A few days and a country or two.

"Why don't you abandon your...work...and come sit with me. Maybe you'll be struck with sudden present inspiration."

I've been found out!

In response, he heaves an overdramatic sigh. He might as well. Besides, they've seen so little of each other the last couple of weeks (Vinnie had been buried in a case and Isabella had been making final preparations for their upcoming wedding in New Orleans) that they both could benefit from a break.

"Yeah," he says, reaching for her hand, "sure." Then, after a beat. "Pretty damn hard to pull one over on a Pendergast. I should know better by now."

Did you really expect anything else?

She didn't like being separated from Vinnie; once upon a time, she was perfectly content being alone -- spending time with very few outside of her father. But Vinnie had changed all that. He was the other half of her. A half she didn't even know was missing until they got together.

She sometimes wondered if this was what it felt like for her parents. And if so, how did her father ever cope during those years that they thought her mother was dead? If she was to lose Vinnie...

Well, they all knew what would happen. Wasn't that why her father momentarily suspected her of Alban's death? Because he had threatened Vinnie?

"You really should." She walked back towards their living room, settling with him on the couch. "You also know you don't have to get me anything, right? We're about to start a whole new chapter of our lives...officially join our families...I can't think of any gift that would top that."

"Not even an LED toothbrush?" he asked, somewhat hopefully.

"Oh definitely an LED toothbrush. Screw everything else, but only if the lights blink in time to some obnoxious 70s disco piece. Because, really, what's the point otherwise?"

"Exactly," he said. Grinned. "I just, you know. I want to make your birthday special. When my parents split up, birthday parties got pushed to the back burner. I guess that's part of the reason why I make a big deal out of --" he raised his hands in the air around some invisible shape "-- finding the perfect gift."

"My birthday will be special. I promise. And not because you go and find me some ridiculous gift, but because you love me enough to want to. Because, to you, I'm worthy of such a thing. Because you refuse to let me push you away no matter how hard I try. The only thing I need for my birthday is you. Buuuuut I am told Proctor has been working on a menu for over a week now. So why don't we keep it low key...dinner with our parents and then, I don't know, a movie night. You, me, our couch..."

Vinnie liked this idea. He liked it very much. He leaned in, his fingertips on her knee, and slowly kissed her to let her know exactly how much he liked it. "You're amazing," he said, their lips still close enough to buzz with his words.

"But you do know I'm still going to try and get you something epic...right?"

As the kiss broke so that Vinnie could comment, Isabella let out a little huff. A huff that told Vinnie just how lucky he was that he was cute. And he was...both very lucky and very cute.

"I know. And if it would help I could have some stuff put on hold at Obscura...which...why didn't we register there? We should have registered there."

"Babe --" he tamped down the air in front of them, pumping the brakes on her occult enthusiasm "-- we don't need bat skeleton candle holders. We need, like the acceptable level of 'kitsch' candle holders."

"It's not all bat skeleton candle holders...though I still hold they would look lovely in the dining room of Ravenscry. There's also letter openers made with real bone...one of those could be quite lovely. Or Victorian mourning jewelry, medical art prints..."

"Medical art prints? In the bedroom?"

"I was thinking more the kitchen." Joking. She is joking. Mostly. Something like that would likely go in a study. Or an office.