"My bank account is intact," Booth replied happily before coming back down. "Unfortunately the local field office doesn't recognize me as an agent." He paused. "They do but not me here and now, but the me from 2005 currently investigating a mob case in Chicago, right before we met." And within the space of that case he'd managed to piss her off.
Thankfully they were both past that time period. "When you have a five year old, inventing words is the name of the game." At the mention of Parker, he felt another stab. Having Brennan here was extremely positive but it didn't work towards reversing the problem, which left him wondering if they'd get back or if he'd see Parker again.
"They're from here." He pointed down at the ground but the meaning was the world in entirety. "They've been around to adjust to this that we haven't....and..." He motioned in the air. "It's like if someone came to our world not believing that FBI agents and forensic anthropologists existed and having to adjust to us," he stated finally.
That was a sobering thought. "Now they'll be burying me for real," he muttered. "All right, you'll get to see your proof eventually. But for now, welcome to LA, Bones. It's a madhouse." Booth smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. "Good thing I'm on vacation then."