"Marceline Lyra Salden, at your service."
"Spencer Reid," he says, "Detective Spencer Reid, actually. At yours."
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
+Spencer Reid X OC
A weary detective strides into the dimly lit bar, his sharp eyes scanning the faces of the patrons...
She had reached out to him but to no avail—her hand slams on the bedsheets.
"You talk too much, Marceline Lyra." She can hear Ryn tell her in the back of her head, maybe she did? She could make it right again.
She whips the covers off of her and makes her way to the bathroom. The sound of water running echoed loudly. She lifted her hand but hesitated.
"Maybe I should let him cool off?" she thought but she shook the idea out of her head.
She knocks," Spencer?" she sighed, "Look I'm sorry, I can get carried away sometimes. We don't have to talk about it anymore, we can just lay in bed or if you're still off-put, you can stay in the living room. Please? I just want to make it right. I promise." she pleaded.
Something at the back of Spencer's brain registers that Marcie's at the door, that she's apologizing. If he were more present he would've gone to calm her down, but as it is, he breathes hard and grunts under the sound of the running water.
Tears begin to brim her eyes. "I know I could be too much at times, you can take the bed and.. and I could take the armchair. Please Spencer, please just talk to me."
There's nothing elegant or even a little bit appealing about the situation. If Marcie saw him, she'd probably want to bail. If she saw him-
He orgasms into the sink so strong it gets on the mirror. He pants, bracing against the opposite wall.
She comforted by hugging herself and taking deep breaths. Her tears don't fall, she wouldn't let it.
Maybe he's realized she's weird and is repulsed by her?
She backs up from the door and heads into the living room. She sits on her feet by the fire, in silence.
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After some haphazard cleaning and zipping up, he bursts out of the door. He's kind of shaky; he'd never given in like this before, and all his nerves are still on end.
"Marcie?"
She turned her head towards his voice, then back at the fire. There's something about tonight that makes it oddly beautiful. She inhales deeply, taking in all the scents around her. She scuffles over to the fire, having grown particularly fond of the smell of the wood burning. She keeps note that she would ask him what kind of wood he uses, but she'll save that for another night.
He doesn't look mad or upset. He's more planted in place, disheveled, with the general countenance of someone who's been freshly lobotomized.
"I, um. You weren't in the room."
She turns her head to him, and cocks her head. She at first smirks, then giggles. "So that's what you were doing?" She tries to cover her laugh by covering her mouth and her attempts were somewhat successful. She wipes her eyes, relieved.
