Futile the Winds || s.reid

8. I Many Times Thought Peace Had Come

"...Evolutionary psychologists actually suggest that remnants of centuries' old gender roles might influence the gender divide in serial killer methodology," Spencer said to his class. "Female killers tend to target people already known to them, almost gathering, if you will, their victims beforehand, whereas male killers are more likely to engage in blitz attacks and random violence with strangers—hunting, in this case. On the whole, female killers tend to be more methodical as well, opting for known slaughter locations, and using less aggressive, and therefore less messy, means of murder than men. Poisoning is actually the most common method from female serial killers. For male serial killers, it's asphyxiation. It's important to note, however, that just because each sex has statistically gravitated towards specific methodologies, it's not a perfect science. Gender bias is a tremendous issue in criminology, and—"

He stole a glance at his watch, his eyes widening, "And I am about to keep you all past time. That's okay! We got through most of what I planned for today—make sure to do the reading! Have a great afternoon!"

Spencer turned to the desk behind him as his students began packing up. "Oh!" He turned back to face them. "I won't be holding office hours today."

He felt badly about it, especially since the final was three weeks away, but it couldn't be helped. His office hours always ran over. The vast majority of the time, his students weren't even asking particularly obscure or thought provoking questions, or seem even all that confused by the material. If anything, it seemed like some of them were looking for excuses to be there.

That was okay, though. He enjoyed talking to his students—about anything, really. When he was in undergrad, he couldn't really connect with the other students on account of his age. But his professors were always happy to indulge him after class or during office hours. It was as much of a solace for him as it was intellectually invigorating. He was still in contact with several of his undergraduate professors, occasionally meeting them for lunch or coffee if they found themselves in DC for a conference.

If he could provide that same safety to any of his students, he was more than happy to stay after class or meet with students even past his office hours.

Usually.

But today was different, because—

Spencer saw you slip in from one of the back doors, holding Hope's hand. You wore your typical professional attire—a silk blouse, straight black slacks, and pumps. It'd been so long since he'd seen you dressed for work, that he couldn't help but stare for a moment, completely missing the student standing in front of him repeating his name.

At the third "Dr. Reid?" he finally tuned back in, snapping to attention.

"Yes?" he asked the student—well, students.

Five young women stood at the foot of the lecture dais.

The young woman who'd been calling his name—Becca Shaw, third year, auditing the class—smiled up at him. "I know you aren't holding office hours today, so I'm so sorry to bother you—"

"Oh! It's never a bother!"

"I just have a few questions about today's material, if you have a minute," she said.

The girl to her right—Joanna Zamani, second year, also auditing—perked up. "Oh, me too."

"I also have a few questions," another girl in the crowd—Chiyuri Kuro, third year, also auditing—said, at the same time that Zoe Stuffers—third year, also auditing—said the exact same thing.

By the way the rest of the students nodded, he imagined they shared the sentiment.

"Oh, uh..." He glanced over to you, now standing by the front row with a bemused expression on your face.