THE LIVING MYTH OF ZELDA SMITH | SPENCER REID
"YOU'RE A PUZZLE I CAN'T SOLVE."
"AND YOU NEVER WILL."
where spencer reid
runs into zelda smith
one too many times
and can't help himself
from trying to
figure her out.
----
[CRIMINAL MINDS]
DWALE (v.) to wander about deliriously or as if asleep
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GRIPPING HIS COFFEEin his favorite mug, Spencer licked his chapped lips due to nerves.
The business card that he had in his back pocket was starting to feel like it was burning a hole in his pants. And the thought of not being able to get out of this situation was frustrating.
He wanted nothing more than to simply, disappear.
His headaches were getting worse but the stinging feeling was making his brain go numb. It almost felt as though he was loosing brain cells from the pain, something he certainly didn't think would be possible.
"Hey Hotch?" Spencer knocked on the door of the BAU's conference room before taking a few steps in.
The room was mostly empty. Hotch was looking through the newest case that the team would be taking on and Garcia would occasionally walk in and out, forgetting cords and cables she needed for the briefing.
"What is it, Reid?"
Spencer pushed his hair back, "I've been thinking - you know - since the space for the BAU has been looking kind of bare, that maybe - and this is just a thought -"
The leader cocked his eyebrow up, leaving the folder he was looking at behind and focusing his full attention on the doctor.
"Reid?" Hotch inquired. "What is this about?"
"You see - there's this artist looking for work and I might have slipped up and lied - completely unintentionally- that the BAU has been looking for was to spruce up our office space. And I may have - unintentionally again - mentioned that we would purchase some of the paintings."
Hotch pursed his lips and silently nodded, "You know, the BAU doesn't have the budget or funds to do that."
"I - I know! I just thought it would be worth a shot to ask, you know? I'm the one that got into this mess and I'm not even that big of a fan of modern art."
Spencer set his coffee down in front of his usual spot at the round table, "Now I just need to figure what I'm going to do about this painting fiasco."
"Paintings?" Garcia inquired as she walked with her laptop in hand, dressed in yellow and black, like a bumblebee. "You're selling paintings?"
"Not me, per say. A friend of a friend - kind of, I guess."
