Not Everyone || Emily Prentiss

3.

«Eyes talk better than words.»

October 2022
(Months since Atalanta: 12)

April Kipling, Interpol agent extraordinaire, and now expert dumpster diver had landed the break she needed. Okay, so it wasn't exactly legal per se, but people really should be more careful with how they disposed of their personal documentation.

She flicked a piece of God-knows-what from the leg of her jeans and cringed as it hit the pavement with a splat. Shuddering, she pulled the straps of her backpack a little tighter and beelined it to the nearest Starbucks; a Starbucks she was intimately familiar with.

April chuckled under her breath at the thought of anyone from Quantico recognising her in her current state. She looked like a poor college student. However, it was early enough on a Saturday that the likelihood of that happening was minimal. It had just gone five-thirty in October. The sun was at least an hour or two away yet.

Pulling her coat a little tighter, she pushed open the door.

The bell jingled overhead and she strolled over to the familiar counter, beaming a smile at the barista.

"Quad shot long black, grande. Oh, God and whatever that is." - she said, pointing towards a large scone with a delectable-looking rim of melted cheese dangling from the edges.

She could feel the saliva rush to her mouth. She hadn't eaten since late last night. She also wasn't sure if ramen noodles, at her desk, while racing to coordinate with the central office in Lion, were classified as valid nutrition.

The tall brunette with the pixie cut and an impressive array of tattoos up one forearm smirked as she grabbed the obscenely large scone and fired it in the grill behind her.

"Butter?" - she asked, with a glint in her eye that was a little to the left of innocent.

April tilted her head slightly.

"Please." - she said, with a smile that bordered on flirty.

She was feeling a little cocky that morning. Either that or the lack of sleep was finally catching up.

The barista's laugh tinkled across the empty café in response as she moved to make her coffee.

"Here, or to go?"

April looked around and eyed a table near the window. If she worked fast enough she could have her pitch done and over to her boss before she finished her coffee, and then go home for a long, blissful sleep.

"Here." - April said.

"Okay, take a seat. I'll bring it over when it's ready."

"I'll just be by the window. Thanks, uhm?"

"Kelly." - the barista provided with a broad smile.

April felt a flush run up her neck and nodded quickly in thanks, turning away before the blush hit her cheeks.

She heard a light chuckle behind her as she walked away.

_____

"Pull over." - Emily sighed as she rubbed her eyes. She was in desperate need of coffee.

Rossi was quick to follow the suggestion as always, and Emily pushed the door open as soon as they reached the curb, ignoring his offer to go inside for her.

She was a grown woman. She was quite sure she could manage coffee. Besides, it was before six on a Saturday. No one from her staff would be around to, God forbid, see her getting her coffee.

The next case was scheduled for Monday evening, and thanks to a couple of horrific pictures from Honolulu's police department, she was forced to head into the office at that obscene hour of the morning so she could ensure her afternoon was free for her friends.