Work Text:
"This wasn't very edifying," Moz remarked. He folded his arms in front of him as he considered the latest surveillance video with a scowl.
"There he goes to the coffeehouse. Again. Doesn't he know caffeine is a diuretic?"
"Moz," Neal warned under his breath as he squirmed to find a better spot on the milk crate. The hard plastic dug into the back of his legs. They weren't known for their comfort.
Neal twirled the ebony ballpoint he'd swapped for the bugged one. Bogart Cole has an annoying habit of chewing on said pen since he'd quit smoking. Watching blue tinted video in the van was an improvement over listening to hours of his gold-capped molar gnawing on the pen. Ponzi schemers must have good dental insurance.
"Watching the fruits of Big Brother's digital harvest gave me the hives rather than any useful information about our mark." Moz vigorously rubbed his arms up and down to prove his point.
Neal grimaced as he glanced over at Peter. "We're watching to study Cole's mannerisms. I need to be convincing in impersonating him."
Moz rolled his eyes. "Neal, you once pulled off being a brain surgeon after just reading a pamphlet." Moz paused, finally remembering who else was in the van.
"Allegedly," Moz added a beat too late. Then, he went back to the monitors.
"Oh, how interesting," Moz said with false cheer and unnecessary volume, "he prefers buying pre-sliced bagels." Moz ducked his head and scribbled on a legal pad with far more enthusiasm than previously.
Peter folded his arms as his eyes drifted over. He said nothing. However, his arched eyebrow spoke volumes.
Neal sighed.