"You don't like me, do you?"
"Wow. Nothing gets past you, Sherlock. Do you keep one of those magnifying glasses tucked away in that little vest of yours?"
•••
Lydia Beowulf works for the Hostage Response T...
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The case was local, and unfortunately incredibly personally involved with the BAU's own bubbly Penelope Garcia. One of the people who partake in Garcia's support group, Monica, had gone missing. Eventually the team discovered it was Monica's daughter's captor who had taken her hostage.
As soon as they found Monica and the vile man, he began to surrender. Until the woman reached for the gun and finished the job herself.
Lydia remembered the moment clearly. The residue of his cranium painting the cozily decorated walls. How she looked over to Spencer who lowered his gun in disappointment, the tension releasing in his hands. As she looked at the man on the floor, she brought the back of her hand to her mouth to prevent a gag.
The case unsettled her more than usual. She couldn't fault the mother for doing what she did. In all honesty, if Lydia discovered someone she cared about had been brutally sexually assaulted and kept against their will, she probably would've done worse. And that fact, is what frightened her.
As everyone stepped out of the elevator, still wrapped in their vests, they all woefully headed to their desks. The bubbly tech stalked off to her lair, and Lydia lingered a moment before catching up with the rest of the group in the bullpen.
She started unstrapping her vest, feeling the pressure release from how tight it held her. She stood behind her desk and she lifted it over her head and tossed it on her desk. "I'm starting to think I need to just embrace the vest as a fashion statement,"
"Unfortunately I think you're right." Morgan commented as he removed his own vest and sat down in his chair, spinning it slightly with his foot. He propped his strong arms behind his head as he leaned back.
"What, you don't think Kevlar is sexy?" Lydia teased, earning an unimpressed smile and head shake in response.
"I think what he means to say is safety is the definition of sexy." Emily chastised from her own desk, leaning forward on her elbows as she chewed her fingernail.
"Actually, although simple, the definition of sexy is a way to describe something that is sexually suggestive or stimulating. But I digress." Spencer pressed his lips into a straight line and nodded, before Lydia let out a loud snort. Emily leaned back in her chair with raised eyebrows.
After a fit of laughter, met with Spencer's painfully confused expression, Lydia lightly sighed. "Spencer I think that is the closest you've gotten to 'dirty talk' in a long time."
"Ha-Ha, very funny." He sook his head in defeat and turned to his computer. He rested his hand in his right palm. The tendons that twitched just below his rolled up sleeves, which met right above his elbows, felt almost scandalous. And Lydia had to peel her eyes away from them, like she was a nun from the most cloistered convent. It didn't feel right to her to observe him intimately like that.
