As they finished their dinner at Santiago's, Brennan stared at her chocolate gelato.

"Somethin' wrong, Bones?" Booth asked.

"I find I am still confused. Walter has no logical method of discovering objects or people and yet he somehow manages to be consistently successful at it . . . He found a picture of me with my mother that I hadn't even requested," she revealed. "I was very impressed."

"The guy's got the stupid finder power – that's all," Booth replied. "Now. Can we stop talkin' about Inspector Gadget and get back to a more pleasant topic?"

Brennan hesitated before speaking again.

"I don't know who that is?" she said, perplexed.

"It's an old kids' cartoon about a dumbass detective with all these – never mind . . ." Booth rolled his eyes in frustration.

She crinkled her brow, still puzzled, but moved on to her point.

"If you dislike Walter so much, why did you so quickly offer my sexual services to him without my consent?" she inquired.

"Because, Bones, I was – I would never – look – I was just tryin' to get him to help us. I would never really expect you to . . . you know . . . follow through with it," he struggled with an explanation.

"Then why did you suggest it?" Brennan persisted, unsatisfied with his answer.

"I was goading him – tryin' to string him along. God, Bones, don't ya know by now that I'm workin' to not be so mad – to get to a point where you . . . and me . . . and . . . and love . . . could happen?"

"You have expressed those feelings to me. But there are times when I am unsure if you still have those intentions," she admitted.

"Don't be," Booth assured her, then awkwardly cleared his throat. "So. You gonna eat that last bite there, or can I have it before it melts?"

"We can split it," she offered.

Booth took his spoon and cut three-fourths of it for himself, proceeding to direct the spoon to his mouth.

"Booth! That's not half – that is not half!" Brennan protested and attempted to grab the spoon from his hand.

Booth grinned, boyishly, and devoured the dessert.

Brennan smacked his arm and pouted.

"What?" he asked.

Brennan remained silent, crossing her arms.

Booth softened, spooning the remaining gelato up and offering it to her.

"Truce?" he proposed.

"I don't see how a truce can be formed by offering me the lesser portion of my dessert," she maintained.

"C'mon, Bones, it's startin' to drip in my hand," he whined.

"Good," Brennan replied.

"Bones . . . Hey, you know you want it . . . all that chocolaty goodness . . ." Booth tempted her, swirling the spoon in her face.

Brennan softly laughed and couldn't help but forgive him. She opened her mouth and accepted the spoonful of gelato.

Booth smiled and put the spoon down.

"You tired?" he asked.

"What did you have in mind?" Brennan wondered, then read what he was thinking.

"Movie . . ." they simultaneously said in sing-song voices, their foreheads almost touching.

Their eyes locked for a moment until the waiter came with the check and cleared his throat, breaking the spell between them.

Booth took the bill and got out his wallet.

"Booth, no – it's my turn. You paid for lunch, remember?" she reminded him.

"Bones, just let me do this, okay? There are some things a guy still wants to do, ya know? I know it's the 21st Century, but -" he was prepared for a lengthy protest from her, complete with women's rights and equality, but was surprisingly interrupted.

"Okay," she conceded, smiling shyly.

"O-Okay? Just like that?" Booth asked, shocked he didn't have to put up a fight.

"Yes," she confirmed. "I understand your need to be chivalrous occasionally."

"Thanks, Bones," Booth smiled and put down his credit card. "So about that movie?"

"How about 'The Mummy'? They're showing a remastered version of it at the $1.50 theater," Brennan suggested, her blue eyes lighting up.

"Sure – Brendan Fraser, Rachel Weisz . . . I'm game," he said, eagerly rubbing his hands together. It was rare that Brennan ever suggested anything made in the last two and a half decades.

"No – the one starring Boris Karloff and Zita Johann – that one," she corrected him.

"Who?" he asked, crinkling his brow.

"The 1932 version, Booth. It's a classic . . . it was the reason I began a career in anthropology," Brennan admitted.

Booth sighed and caved. If it really meant that much to her, he'd suck it up and go. If nothing else, he could be satisfied knowing she was happy.

"Sure, we'll go, Bones. But next time it's my pick – deal?" he bargained, putting his wallet back after leaving a tip.

"Deal," she agreed.

"You ready?" he asked, standing up and holding out her jacket for her.

"Ready," she replied, putting it on. "Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?" he answered as they walked out of the restaurant.

"Thank you . . . I realize this is not a film you wish to see, but you're going with me regardless," Brennan told him.

"It's called compromise, Bones. Next time we'll see my kinda movie. It's not a big deal," Booth assured her.

Brennan coyly looked up at him as they walked toward the theater.

"I . . . was attracted to Walter," she admitted. "He was very charming."

"Are you kiddin' me? C'mon, Bones!" he protested.

"However, while I found him appealing, there were certain qualities that were lacking," Brennan finished. "As you once told me, I believe you to be the 'standard'."

"So ol' Wally just couldn't cut it, huh?" Booth grinned, smugly, his ego multiplying by the minute.

"Booth . . ." Brennan scolded his childish behavior.

"What . . .?" he played innocent.