The younger marshal was gently waving Neal off. The last thing either of them needed was for the handsome thief to go crashing through the rotten floorboards.

"I'm sorry, Neal." He said, shaking his head and giving the hole into which the rubber band ball had disappeared. "I think, that may have been what you were looking for," his expression was genuinely apologetic. Licking his lips he leaned back against the desk, letting it take more of his weight than he'd normally allow.

"Peter, Mozzie, Elizabeth, Satchmo?" He said the names softly, testing his assumption before he shared any more of the memory. A memory that was settling in amongst his own, making it hard to unwind what emotions did and did not belong to him.