"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 sat alone at the bar. Not exactly alone, alone. There were people all around her. Women with clunky shiny jewelry that paired with their tight dresses. Men who were at the bar to just 'order a drink', but only approached to see the wide selection of treats.
She sat at the corner of the bar facing the sea of poker tables that she knew at least one was occupied by their unsub. All of the round tables had a dealer, surrounded by men and women hoping to win big.
She used the thin black straw to stir the ice cubes in her coke as her eyes focused on whatever table Spencer was at. At that moment, he had just sat down at a table but he was subtly looking at the closest around him to pick up on any clues.
That's when a man plopped beside Lydia. The force of weight being brought down beside her caused the break in focus. When she glanced over at him, she wasn't pleased to say the least.
He had three strands of hair combed over his artificially tanned bald head. Pairing with his sunglasses that he was wearing inside, his halfway undone button down exposed his lobster red chest. He looked old enough to be her father. Well, at least, old as her father would be now. He was definitely not the unsub.
She turned and looked back at Spencer, where he still sat with his chips.
"You look like you got a lot on your mind, sweetheart." The man tried, his thick Jersey accent coming out between veneered teeth. Lydia pulled the hem of her blue dress down farther, trying to shield herself from his gaze that was taking all of her in.
She just kept staring straight ahead. She already knew he wasn't the unsub, so she wasn't going waste her time giving him the time of day.
It was her fault for assuming he would up and leave if she ignored him long enough, but like every man, he saw it as a challenge. And he'd be damned if he didn't win.
He held out his hand for her to shake, "The name is Randy, what's yours?"
She continued to look forward, sipping her drink. Her only task at the moment was making sure Spencer was alright and finding information herself if possible. This meatball was an annoying distraction.
"Real quiet, eh? I was trying to be a nice guy and check up on a lady. Least I can do with all them murders happening."
That brought attention to Lydia's ears as he began to twist and slide off of his seat.
"What do you know about that?" She turned to finally look at him. Her sudden reaction was enough to make him readjust in his seat and stay.
