✓ | sick of losing soulmates [SPENCER REID]

11.2

11.2
( runaway child. )

☆ ★ ☆

iris

Pictures of the wrist with the destroyed tattoo are sent back to the office, so when they arrive back, Spencer's already sat at his desk, cross-legged in his chair and drawing with an expression of immense concentration. Seaver sits behind him, watching him work.

A sour taste rises in Iris' mouth, but she swallows it down quickly as she approaches, yanking her jacket off. "Reid," she calls, and he looks up briefly. "You got anything?'

"The damage to his wrist was extensive, but luckily some of the tattoo remains," he answers.

He continues drawing for a moment, going through a repetitive routine of scratching something down, then rubbing it out, and then drawing it once more. It's a three steps forward, two steps back, sort of process.

A few seconds later, he looks up at her again, and she blinks and tries to pretend she's not been staring. "Hotch said you were shot at?"

"Oh, yeah. Hit-squad almost got someone who wasn't on their list," she quips. "Only hit my leg, though."

Spencer's brow furrows with concern, glancing down to where her left leg is pointed out a little bit, like show-and-tell. "You're not hurt, are you?"

She shakes her head, and Spencer opens his mouth again, closes it, then nods ponderously, but doesn't say anything, going back to his drawing. Iris purses her lips.

She's been shitty to him for the past couple of weeks, she knows that, and she hates herself even more for it now, because she's expecting him to be concerned. Because she's a total hypocrite. Because she's selfish and pathetic. Why does she have such high expectations, just like Spencer said?

"Seaver, get the victim's photo out to the press," Hotch orders from behind her.

"Guys!" Garcia' voice cries, making Iris turn to see the woman approaching, pink cardigan off now to reveal her polka-dot dress. "The journalist of that one article told me to follow the money, so I did," she rushes, marching up to stand in front of Iris. "Now, the gazette is owned by a multimillion dollar company. CWS."

"Clearwater Securities," Hotch says.

"You know them?" Rossi asks.

"I've..." He hesitates, choosing his words carefully. "...come across them. They're a private counter-intelligence group."