'We usually ignore the little things that matter. The small details that can change a life. Those simple gestures. A simple smile of hope, a simple touch of support, a few words of strength. These small uplifting things can turn a life around.'
|| S...
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"Lucky I'm sane after all I've been through. Life's been good to me so far." Joe Walsh
###
Laylah sat beside Spencer mulling over her hourglass idea, Derek and Rossi heading out. Her fingers tapped against her leg silently, eyes scanning the words rapidly as she tried to draw in more information. She barely heard the phone when it began to ring in front of them, Spence sitting for a second before he looked up; trying to figure out which button to press before finding it.
'Hello,' He greeted as he took Laylah's hand, bringing her back to the present.
'Hi there,' Penelope replied; 'Uh, I was trying to call Hotch, but it kept going to voicemail.'
'He's still at the hospital with JJ. What's going on?'
'Ok, I did what man chocolate asked. I got this list. There are certain things that should never exist, and one of those is this depressingly long list.'
'Does anything specific jump out at you?' Laylah asked.
'Aside from the horribleness of it all, no.'
'You know, send me all the police, hospital, and child services transcripts associated with the cases,' Spencer stated.
'Everything on all of them?'
'Yeah, I'll print out hard copies here.'
'Ok. You're gonna need a forklift, and I hope you're using recyclable paper, but... On its way.'
'All right. Thank you so much, Garcia.'
'Do you know how many transcripts there's going to be?' She cocked a brow at him as the line fell silent.
'Between my reading ability and your reading ability, we'll get through them.'
'Are you calling me slow?'
'Maybe.'
She squinted at him with a mock glare, 'You're so on.'
She pushed herself up to stand, racing around the table to beat him to the printer where a stack of paper already awaited them.
###
The near constant sound of paper flicking was all that could be heard within the room that Spencer and Laylah worked, both geniuses moving quickly through the continuous piles that were brought in. Despite not being able to read as quickly as her boyfriend, Laylah was doing her best to keep up; turning one page to his three. Every sentence echoed in her mind before she decided whether the file was needed or not, where she rid of it from her mind and started a fresh.
'Got one,' Spencer suddenly stated.
'Who?' She looked up as her tapping stopped.
'Patrick Sorenson of Oswego, New York. Take a look.'
