OOM: Coffee and diner food interuptus
((Sometime earlier.))
The phone rings, interrupting a conversation about power and prestige.
Apparently, both Booth and Brennan have high status. He's pleased to know these things. Also, they're a mutual admiration society.
"Yeah, it's Agent Booth," he answers, the number on the caller ID unfamiliar.
"It's Pam." Getting no response, she adds, "Pam Noonan."
"How can I help you, Miss Noonan?" he asks warily.
"Are you available to meet?" she asks brightly.
Booth is taken aback. "I'm sorry - um, how did you get this number?"
"Your office patched me through." She gives a little trill of laughter, sounding nervous. "I said I was your mother."
"Yeah, Dr. Brennan and I can meet with you," he says.
"No," she says, the nervousness gone now. "Just you."
Booth shifts uncomfortably on his stool. "Well, if it's relevant to the case, uh, Miss Noonan, I think it'd be important that Dr. Brennan..."
Pam interrupts. "I can be at your office in a half-hour. But you have to meet me alone."
More confused than ever, Booth asks: "I'm sorry, is this about Tommy?"
"What else would it be about, Agent Booth?" Her voice is soft, gentle, high.
He frowns. "Okay. A half an hour."
Hanging up, Booth looks at Brennan. "What did she want?" Bones asks.
"She wants to see me, without you."
"Did she say why?" Brennan asks in disbelief.
"Probably because you make her uncomfortable," Booth says, a bit sharper than he'd intended.
"How so?" Brennan asks.
"Well, because...you're you, and a well-adjusted woman," Booth points out.
"And a best-selling author," she says, referring back to their earlier conversation. "I was on the New York Times list for 18 weeks, I won the Ed -"
She breaks off, noticing that Booth is giving her a long, hard look. She looks down at her dinner, then looks back up at him and eats a French fry as if daring him to say something about her ego again.
Booth refuses to take the bait.
*******************************
Opening the door to his office, Booth ushers Pam Noonan through the door.
"Right this way."
She enters, then says: "Thanks for seeing me."
"Uh, it's my job." It's not a very gracious thing to say, but it's late, and so far, she hasn't offered any concrete information that makes him want to coddle her.
"That's precious," Pam says. She laughs, with a strange little wheeze on the end. "It's your job."
Booth doesn't see what's so funny about his job, but, well, he'd like to wrap this up quickly and get home. He walks behind his desk, faces her. "You said you had information about-"
She interrupts. "Hockey fan!" She points to a print of a Caps player trying to score on the Flyers. "I have that same print in my office." She tilts her head and shrugs. "And it's Pam. I have tickets to the Capitals. We should go sometime."
Booth furrows his brow and tries to figure out how this conversation got so off-track. "Miss Noonan, about the case..."
"Seeley, please. Pam. I need to ask you something."
"Uh, usually I ask the questions."
She steps toward him. "Are you dating Dr. Brennan?"
Surprised, Booth answers, "No. She's my partner."
"I see," Pam says with a little smile on her face. She spots a picture of Parker, grinning on the desktop. "Your nephew?"
"That's my son," Booth says, moving to block the picture from her view, as if to shield Parker from this disturbingly intense woman.
"You're married?" Pam asks, looking hurt.
"No, I'm not," he says brusquely. "Listen, I'm kinda busy here, Miss Noonan -"
She interrupts him again. "I brought you something." The hurt look has vanished from her face, and her voice is full of little-girl delight. She hands over a pretty gift bag, which Booth takes, almost against his will.
He raises his eyebrows as he pulls out a pair of striped socks. "Okay..."
"I know you've got a thing for socks." Her voice is full of laughter, as if it's some sort of private joke between the two of them.
"How did you, uh..."
"I noticed 'em the last time. On the outside, you're this big, tough FBI guy, but really you're just like me. Unpredictable. Like Tommy was."
Booth shakes his head. "Please -"
But before he goes any further with the 'I cannot take your socks' spiel, she interrupts him yet again. "I know. We shouldn't talk about our old flames, especially when we're just getting to know each other."
"Miss Noonan," Booth says, his voice firm, with just an edge of anger. "You said you had information about Tommy Sour's murder."
"Really?" she asks dreamily. "I have faith that you'll find out who killed him. And Tommy wouldn't want me to grieve forever." Her look is adoring, and she scans the room. "Look at all these commendations. You're really great at your job, aren't you?"
The gift bag, long since dropped, catch her eye, and she bends to pick them up. "It's one of the reasons I'm drawn to you."
Booth holds up his hands, socks still in hand. "Ma'am, this is way inappropriate."
Pam laughs at that. "Ma'am. That is so cute! I can't wait to tell my mom you just said that."
Holding the socks as if they somehow contain the answer to how this crazy conversation got so railroaded, Booth just stares at her.
"Well," Pam says. "Bye for now."
She turns to walk away, and takes one last look at Booth before going out the door.
Looking down at the socks in his hands, Booth tries to figure out what the hell just happened here.
((Sometime later))
The phone rings, interrupting a conversation about power and prestige.
Apparently, both Booth and Brennan have high status. He's pleased to know these things. Also, they're a mutual admiration society.
"Yeah, it's Agent Booth," he answers, the number on the caller ID unfamiliar.
"It's Pam." Getting no response, she adds, "Pam Noonan."
"How can I help you, Miss Noonan?" he asks warily.
"Are you available to meet?" she asks brightly.
Booth is taken aback. "I'm sorry - um, how did you get this number?"
"Your office patched me through." She gives a little trill of laughter, sounding nervous. "I said I was your mother."
"Yeah, Dr. Brennan and I can meet with you," he says.
"No," she says, the nervousness gone now. "Just you."
Booth shifts uncomfortably on his stool. "Well, if it's relevant to the case, uh, Miss Noonan, I think it'd be important that Dr. Brennan..."
Pam interrupts. "I can be at your office in a half-hour. But you have to meet me alone."
More confused than ever, Booth asks: "I'm sorry, is this about Tommy?"
"What else would it be about, Agent Booth?" Her voice is soft, gentle, high.
He frowns. "Okay. A half an hour."
Hanging up, Booth looks at Brennan. "What did she want?" Bones asks.
"She wants to see me, without you."
"Did she say why?" Brennan asks in disbelief.
"Probably because you make her uncomfortable," Booth says, a bit sharper than he'd intended.
"How so?" Brennan asks.
"Well, because...you're you, and a well-adjusted woman," Booth points out.
"And a best-selling author," she says, referring back to their earlier conversation. "I was on the New York Times list for 18 weeks, I won the Ed -"
She breaks off, noticing that Booth is giving her a long, hard look. She looks down at her dinner, then looks back up at him and eats a French fry as if daring him to say something about her ego again.
Booth refuses to take the bait.
*******************************
Opening the door to his office, Booth ushers Pam Noonan through the door.
"Right this way."
She enters, then says: "Thanks for seeing me."
"Uh, it's my job." It's not a very gracious thing to say, but it's late, and so far, she hasn't offered any concrete information that makes him want to coddle her.
"That's precious," Pam says. She laughs, with a strange little wheeze on the end. "It's your job."
Booth doesn't see what's so funny about his job, but, well, he'd like to wrap this up quickly and get home. He walks behind his desk, faces her. "You said you had information about-"
She interrupts. "Hockey fan!" She points to a print of a Caps player trying to score on the Flyers. "I have that same print in my office." She tilts her head and shrugs. "And it's Pam. I have tickets to the Capitals. We should go sometime."
Booth furrows his brow and tries to figure out how this conversation got so off-track. "Miss Noonan, about the case..."
"Seeley, please. Pam. I need to ask you something."
"Uh, usually I ask the questions."
She steps toward him. "Are you dating Dr. Brennan?"
Surprised, Booth answers, "No. She's my partner."
"I see," Pam says with a little smile on her face. She spots a picture of Parker, grinning on the desktop. "Your nephew?"
"That's my son," Booth says, moving to block the picture from her view, as if to shield Parker from this disturbingly intense woman.
"You're married?" Pam asks, looking hurt.
"No, I'm not," he says brusquely. "Listen, I'm kinda busy here, Miss Noonan -"
She interrupts him again. "I brought you something." The hurt look has vanished from her face, and her voice is full of little-girl delight. She hands over a pretty gift bag, which Booth takes, almost against his will.
He raises his eyebrows as he pulls out a pair of striped socks. "Okay..."
"I know you've got a thing for socks." Her voice is full of laughter, as if it's some sort of private joke between the two of them.
"How did you, uh..."
"I noticed 'em the last time. On the outside, you're this big, tough FBI guy, but really you're just like me. Unpredictable. Like Tommy was."
Booth shakes his head. "Please -"
But before he goes any further with the 'I cannot take your socks' spiel, she interrupts him yet again. "I know. We shouldn't talk about our old flames, especially when we're just getting to know each other."
"Miss Noonan," Booth says, his voice firm, with just an edge of anger. "You said you had information about Tommy Sour's murder."
"Really?" she asks dreamily. "I have faith that you'll find out who killed him. And Tommy wouldn't want me to grieve forever." Her look is adoring, and she scans the room. "Look at all these commendations. You're really great at your job, aren't you?"
The gift bag, long since dropped, catch her eye, and she bends to pick them up. "It's one of the reasons I'm drawn to you."
Booth holds up his hands, socks still in hand. "Ma'am, this is way inappropriate."
Pam laughs at that. "Ma'am. That is so cute! I can't wait to tell my mom you just said that."
Holding the socks as if they somehow contain the answer to how this crazy conversation got so railroaded, Booth just stares at her.
"Well," Pam says. "Bye for now."
She turns to walk away, and takes one last look at Booth before going out the door.
Looking down at the socks in his hands, Booth tries to figure out what the hell just happened here.
((Sometime later))