Of all the things she'd taken to finding out about the man over the three months she'd known him, this was...something she hadn't expected to find out. He was a man of many intricate levels, she knew that. Things that would always remain something of a secret no matter how close they got, or how much they thought they knew about each other.

She'd made her peace with the fact that she might never know the truth of Peter Strahm's character.
However, after dating the man for just over a month and a half of the three months she'd known him overall...this was something Jill had never seen coming.

His face was the colour of her favourite red lipstick, and he was spluttering out explanations as he stood in front of the television where the evidence of his guilty pleasure played out on the LCD screen behind him.

"It's...it's not what you think. It's not. I'd never...it was just on. I just flicked to it. I wasn't even paying attention, really—"
She'd never known him to be so...well, childish. Anyone would think he was a teenager and she'd caught him reading a pornographic magazine as opposed to this.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Peter," she said soothingly. "It's perfectly natural to be curious about different things."

"But I'm not! It was just on the TV, babe," he responded with unconvincing casualness. Still, he made no move to change the channel, lest she see what he was really embarrassed about being caught watching.

She had to chuckle at his attempts to lie. He couldn't lie if you paid him to. The man was far too honest for his own good, in her personal opinion. While that made him honourable, it also made his present attempts at lying to be little more than a complete joke to her. She could see it in his face, his eyes and his body language all at once.

"There's nothing wrong with it, you know," she said with her usual sweet smile, reaching up to cup his face in her hands. "I'm not judging you. I actually think it's...cute."

He bristled, his upper lip curling.

"I am not cute."

"Yes, you are," she replied, her grin widening and pulling him down onto the couch with her. "You're adorable when you try to lie about little things that embarrass you, Peter."

After a moment where he glanced at the screen and visibly deflated, he looked up at her with a distinct pout on his lips.
"I...speak French," he admitted, his cheeks burned with shame. She'd never even seem him blush before now. "I took classes in high school, and then an extra curriculum course in college as well. So, once in a while when you're not around, I...like to keep up with the language with a few...," he cleared his throat, "European films."

She touched his knee.
"You can say it, Peter."

He swallowed.
"French films."

Smiling, Jill kissed his cheek and squeezed his hand.
"There. Don't you feel better for it now, love?"

He quickly turned to her. "Don't tell—"

"Your secret is safe with me, l'amour."

"Bitch."

"You'll be talking to me nicely, Special Agent Strahm, if you don't want the entire department being aware that you're bi-lingual and watch Amelie every other weekend," she teased.

He gave her a reproachful look that was only half serious.
"You're a cruel, heartless wench," he mumbled, laying his head against her chest and stroking his fingertips across her thigh.

"And you are a bit of a Ricardo di Fromage."

"Stop showing off."