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Spencer hands Harper a coffee as she enters the BAU, bee-lining for his office. She's surprised, accepting with gratitude. It's a long black, the same thing she ordered the second time they had met.
They were starting to become friends, and it worried her. But it also made her happy.
She sits next to him at his desk; the atmosphere worlds apart from their first meeting across the conference room table. She takes in her surroundings,
Books piled up on the floor and along the shelves. They are most theoretical. Harper makes a mental note to recommend him some more literature. He has a large artificial tree beside the chair, which she thought was a little out-of-character for him. Three small medicinal bottles were lined up near his chair, though their seals were unbroken. Anxiety medication, she guessed.
"Profiling," she reminded herself, focusing. That was today's goal. She was here to talk about the psychology behind it, the methodology. Not Spencer.
As Spencer launched into an explanation, Harper couldn't help but observe him. His movements were subtle but telling: the way his hands fidgeted when he got too deep into a topic, the way his gaze shifted slightly away when he spoke about anything remotely personal. He knew she was watching him closely, but she could tell it unnerved him—he wasn't used to being seen.
Spencer notices that Harper is observing him closely. He feels slightly uncomfortable - being perceived - and nervous. He knows she wants him to be more personal, to share his struggles more. This frightens Spencer, but her gentle tone and avid listening skills get the better of him.
"Have you heard of Attachment Theory?" she asks him.
He pauses, certain she already knows he has heard of it. Spencer nods, looking at her.
"What attachment style do you think you fall under?" she continues, looking a little wary of scaring him.
He hesitated, his hands briefly stilling. "I've always understood people on an intellectual level. It's emotionally that I... struggle. It's easier to keep a distance when life is so unpredictable."
She leaned forward slightly, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Did you learn that growing up, or is it something the job taught you?"
Spencer hesitates again, looking down at his hands. He could feel the weight of the question, the memories tugging in his mind.
