It's a truth universally acknowledged that an FBI special agent in possession of great skill and talent is likely to engage in trash talk every now and then.

My, my, aren’t we pushy . . .

You are not just a big-picture girl for me, Brooke Parker. You’re the only picture.

You are really starting to annoy me, Stanton.” Nick didn’t blink. “Good. By the end of the night I hope to finish the job.

What exactly was your plan here, Mr. Andrews? To just walk in and flash your little smile, no questions asked?

Payton grinned. “You must be Chase.” As she extended her hand in introduction, she took the opportunity to give him a more thorough once-over. He had dark wavy hair and warm brown eyes. Very Pat-rick Dempsey/McDreamy-esque. Good build, not terribly tall, maybe only five-ten-ish, but since Payton measured in at exactly five-three and one-third inch, she could work with this

Well, Ma, see... there's this girl." Silence. He checked to make sure the call hadn't been dropped. "You still there, Ma?" A sniffle. "You can't be crying already," he said. "I haven't told you anything about her yet." "It doesn't matter, Nick," his mother said through her tears. "Those are the three words I've been waiting thirty-four years to hear.