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ㅤ"𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐒𝐄𝐘, what the hell are you trying to tell me?" May muttered under her breath as she frowned, eyes unfocused as she stared forward. She was once again fiddling with her switchblade, one she always takes out whenever she thinks too deeply, the object becoming something like her anchor when her mind drifts away.
As she sat in a chair she'd borrowed from one of the officers, she keeps coming back to her last interaction with Lynn—alive, then as a ghost—wondering what the woman was trying to tell her. She knew the once-executive assistant was trying to help her solve the case, but the way the woman tried was nothing short of confusing. It's like when wise old men try to give you advice; instead of going straight to the point, they give you riddles.
A hand on her shoulder made her flinch, making her twist abruptly in her seat to face the culprit, only to see Spencer's rather unemotional expression staring back at her. The two separated from Hotch and Gideon to revisit some of the information they've collected, heading towards an unused table for some space away from everyone else. Though they didn't speak, they continued to work in tandem, as if communicating through mere thought.
