"Marceline Lyra Salden, at your service."
"Spencer Reid," he says, "Detective Spencer Reid, actually. At yours."
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+Spencer Reid X OC
A weary detective strides into the dimly lit bar, his sharp eyes scanning the faces of the patrons...
Spencer sighs, staying a few moments face-down on the bed. He's slowly going more and more red now that he's alone, replaying Marceline in his head rather than having Marceline in his arms.
It's in this reverie of guilt and want that the memory of Miss Lucy Westenra pops back into his mind.
A hospital gown is a hospital gown, so he tentatively rises. The scar feels fine, still to his surprise.
He opens his door and knocks on the door of the adjacent room.
"Come in," says a slight voice.
Spencer opens the door with a creak that feels louder than what it should be.
"Miss Westenra? I'm Detective Spencer Reid, of Scotland Yard. I don't know if you remember me."
She's lying in her bed, blonde hair spread out like a halo. She doesn't look as pale as the doctors made it out to be, from what he could overhear.
She curled on her bed, facing him."I remember you...your boss still think I'm crazy? That I made it up?" she sounded defeated, her eyes were puffy, and her nose was red, possibly from crying and staying up all night.
"Yes, but I don't," he says, going to stand respectfully some steps away from the bed.
"That's a hospital gown," Lucy pointed out.
Spencer looks down at himself. "Yes. I was stabbed."
"Oh, dear. And you're walking around like nothing?"
"I'm better now."
"Huh," she uttered in acceptance. "Detective Reid.. why are you here?" she questioned, confused by his attire but more confused by his presence.
He considers.
"Miss Westenra, are you in danger?"
"I've already told you, I've already told your boss, I've already told the fucking doctors!" she said in a broken sob, "There is a man who...nevermind. It sounds ridiculous."
Spencer nods slowly, just once.
"I'll review your case and put it back in motion when I'm able to go back to Scotland Yard. If you want to tell me anything, though, officially..." He motions towards his hospital gown, "I'm willing to listen."
She sat up, looking at him and then his attire.
"I'm not dreaming him, he's real. I-"A sob escapes her lips, "I feel him watching me. Even now, I feel his burning eyes." She puts her hands behind her neck.
Spencer frowns. The gesture might be psychosomatic, but nothing's lost in checking.
He approaches. "Can I see?"
"You're just going to tell me no one's there." she sounds unconvinced herself.
"I'm not. I think that there's something strange happening to you, and I will do my best to figure out what it is."
He kneels at her bedside, his sunken eyes full of concern.
"I promise."
She nodded her head, allowing him to look.
"I've been waking up with these little bites?" she shows her legs and arms, "doctors think it's bug bites and that I've been scratching them to make them worse."
Spencer leans in to take a closer look at one of her arms.
The bites seem to go by twos; each pair equidistant. Around each prick there's a swollen mount of pink, raw-looking skin, the wound itself is a sunken licorice red. Like the skin had stuck to whatever pierced it, and remained raised.
"Huh," breathes Spencer, mouth open in concentration.
"What? What is it?" she looks at the bites with him, confused by his expression.
Spencer touches one of the bites and Lucy recoils with a hiss of pain. He nods, then stands again.
"Well-- they're peculiar-looking. The points of entry are too large to be from any bug I know to be present in England. They look more like something left behind by an animal's fangs."
She looked concerned, "An animal?" she took back her arm, "Don't you think I'd know if an animal is trying to feast on me?" Her tone was defensive.
He holds his hands up, placating.
"It's just what they look like. It's no conclusive information."
She cradled her arm, scanning him up and down. Her eyes furrowed, she had been silently looking at him, expecting him to say more.
He considers what to say-- obviously, she's hesitant about him, so he'll have to be careful.
"Miss Westenra, I'm not here to dismiss you. I think something strange is definitely afoot, and I'd like for you to tell me everything you can in order to figure out what it is exactly. When you began to suspect you were being watched, or when you fell ill, what the man you speak of looks like. If we can figure out his behavior and the motives for it, we can get ahead of him instead of trying to catch him only by chasing."
She hesitated before answering, "It started about.. 2 months. it was more like a presence at first, my father used to tell me it's in human nature to feel when someone watches you and I felt it. But then.. it was the dreams. When he showed himself, I knew it was him. Thin, long white mustache, pointed ears, and sharp teeth like.. a cat? Only he wasn't a cat he looked human. When waking up from these dreams it was like he drained me." She looked down, soothing herself by rubbing her arm.
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Spencer nods, serious.
"I believe you. I'll do my best to stop whatever's happening to you."
He clasps one of her hands in a comforting gesture, shortly, but there.
"Be strong."
When he's discharged, he immediately heads to Marceline's bar.
