"You tried to kill me and my team."

"Your team? They're MY team! Mine! I put them together, and then I handed them to you! I did all the research; I know exactly who they are. I know their techniques, I know their contacts, and I know your team better than anyone, and I certainly know them better than you."

Nate couldn't see Eliot, but the clattering of pots and pans and the smell of something delicious indicated that he was in the kitchen. Dubenich probably thought that Eliot microwaved his meals, if he even bothered to eat. Nate stifled a laugh at the thought of Eliot's offended expression if anybody suggested he eat an instant meal. After all, it had taken him weeks to figure out that Eliot even cooked- it certainly wasn't in his dossier. There was no way in hell Dubenich would have known that.

Eliot cursed- Parker had probably just swiped some food. At this point, Parker couldn't not be a thief, but Dubenich wouldn't have bothered to question how she had become Parker. Foster care, horses, chocolate, Archie, her obsession with Christmas- Dubenich couldn't have known anything about it. Who'd think that a thief would love a holiday all about giving?

Hardison paused as he set the table to laugh at something Sophie said. Nate actually smiled at the thought of Dubenich seeing what Hardison was really capable of. Old Nate, calling his Nana, his charm, the violin solo that was so breathtakingly beautiful that it almost ruined a con- he couldn't have known Hardison was capable of doing any of that.

And Sophie- well, technically not Sophie, but Dubenich seemed to have forgotten that the grifter was Nate's addition, not his. Besides, as little as Dubenich knew about "his" people, he could fill a few books with what he didn't know about Sophie.'

And as for himself- for Dubenich, Nate was probably a bit of an open book. However, Dubenich clearly wasn't great at reading people, if he thought his original plan had even the slightest chance of working against the team that he'd put together himself.

Nate's reverie was broken when Eliot waved an oven mitt in front of his face. "Nate- food's ready. Are you gonna stand there all night or eat with us?"

"Yeah, come on, I'm starving," Hardison complained, which prompted Sophie to pat his shoulder and reply, "Don't whine, Hardison."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Nate said. He felt a contented smile stretch across his face.

"…I certainly know them better than you."

"No, you don't," he murmured.

"What did you say?" asked Parker.

"Oh, nothing," he replied, his smile growing wider as he sat down and unfolded his napkin. "So what's for dinner, Eliot? It smells delicious."