"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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Lydia's pen was working overtime as her focus darted from the laptop and to the paper sitting in front of her. Her knuckles were turning white from her grip and her teeth chewed the inside of her cheek.
The killer was focusing on families within the Church who had taken in children from foster care. After the unsub left an devolving and unraveled crime scene, they deduced the unsub was a woman. One that was looking for a child.
Lydia and Spencer had been tasked to look through victimology earlier that afternoon. Searching through the list of families who may be targeted, while Garcia looked through lists of women who had been recently let out mental facilities. However it all seemed to be busy work on their parts, because there ended up woman had been shot and left in her car on the side of the road a couple of blocks away. Revealing that the unsub had been searching for this specific child. A child that Garcia was actively trying to unseal the record for.
If the digging up of all her monstrous foster care memories wasn't excruciatingly bleak enough, Spencer still hadn't talked to her the entire two and a half hours they had been sitting there. During that time, all that could be heard within the space between them was the sound of her boots bouncing as she anxiously tapped her foot
She had tried a couple times to make a comment to him here and there. Ask him an opinion on something she had discovered or even a general observation about the weather. Every time she was met with a short answer that didn't seem like an answer at all. The word 'Maybe' started to sound like a mantra leaving his lips. Even though she didn't really want to go talk to him either, it was an attempt to make their professional lives less painfully awkward.
After discovering that their work was a bust, the each got swamped with various other tasks throughout the day. As if it were all coming full circle, Lydia found herself sitting back at that same table later that afternoon. Jotting down notes in her notebook, an early sketch of one of the victims staring at her from the top of the page.
She heard heavy foot steps approached, and ignored them. It wasn't until they plopped down into the chair in front of her and huffed that she looked up to see Morgan. His muscular arms behind his head.
"Hey, Texas. You've been quiet." He nodded at her when she didn't say anything.
"I'm the same as I always am." She replied absentmindedly, still looking down and writing in her journal.
"C'mon," He scoffed, causing her to look up at him through her lashes. "You can't fool me. Your smart-assery has been to a minimum."
"I'm fine, Morgan." She mumbled, looking back down at her journal. She wasn't fine. Things were getting to personal. The case. With spencer. This conversation.
