❝She is passion embodied, a flower of melodrama in eternal bloom.❞
Michaela Prentiss is the very definition of inconsistent. It's no surprise, really, considering that she's never lived in one place for more than five consecutive years. She believes...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Michaela had spent the majority of the day alone. She had hoped she would be able to spend at least some time with Emily while she was in town, but her hopes had been empty ones. Emily was working, so it made sense, but you can only find so much to do while stuck in a vacant room in a police station. Every hour or so, someone would poke their head through the closed door to check on Michaela — usually Emily, Derek, or JJ — but that was the extent of her social interaction. She had spent time walking up and down the hallways, running her index finger along the space between the painted-over bricks along the walls, with no true destination. It was during one of these walks that she came across a vending machine filled with different snacks. The first three rows were all different brands of chips. The next two rows had an assortment of candy choices. The last row, however, contained three different kinds of chewing gum, a row of granola bars, and a row of strawberry Pop-Tarts.
Michaela reached into her pocket, fishing out the change from her pizza order from earlier in the day. She put three quarters into the machine and selected F5. She watched as the machine began to dispense the Pop-Tart, and audibly groaned when it got stuck. She tried to wiggle the heavy machine in hopes that it would knock the Pop-Tart loose, but it didn't move.
"Are you kidding," she grumbled. She reached back into her pocket, only to realize that she only had two pennies and a nickel left. She checked her other pockets for change but came up empty.
"Here." A slender hand reached out in front of Michaela, inserting a dollar into the machine.
She looked to see who the generous donation had come from, and involuntarily smiled when she realized it was Spencer. "Thank you," she said, watching as his slender fingers pushed the buttons. Two Pop-Tarts fell to the bottom of the machine, and Michaela bent to pull them out. She handed one to Spencer.
He accepted it with his right hand, and that's when Michaela realized he had two coffees in the other. "I got this for you, but you weren't in the conference room and I got worried. I figured you were probably hungry by now."
"I had some leftover pizza not too long ago, but strawberry Pop-Tarts are my favorite. Couldn't pass one up," Michaela told him. She took one of the coffees from his hand. "Thank you, again. For both the coffee and for freeing my Pop-Tart from its glass prison."
Spencer chuckled at her dramatics. "No problem. So, I talked to Hotch earlier this morning about letting you shadow with our technical analyst. Are you available sometime in April?"
"Yeah, I am. Derek beat you to the punch, though. He told me this morning, right after slipping me your phone number," Michaela said, a playful tone in her voice.
Spencer could feel himself flush, and made a mental note to kill Derek later. "I'm sorry, he can be kind of pushy at times."
Michaela shrugged. "Do you want me to delete it?"
"No!" Spencer tried to hide his surprise upon hearing that she had saved his phone number in the first place. "I mean, you don't have to. It's completely up to you."
