Picasso || Spencer Reid

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

The café was silent as one would expect at this time of day. The only individuals you'd predict to see at this early hour of the day are those grabbing their daily coffee before their morning shift, or the very few who like to claim their seat for the day, productivity on their mind. Either way, the sunrise was always beautiful when it came through the front windows.

For myself, it's the second of the two, seeing as I don't have to make my way to my small studio until shortly after noon. There's a few regulars that I recognise from my chair that sits itself towards the front window of the store, but there's a man I've never seen before. He's tall, on the skinner side, with long-ish slicked back hair. Although I never would've taken a second glance towards him in a normal situation, he had the natural light hitting him at a specific angle, making his skin glow and his eyes a golden brown, almost like honey.

My pencil is almost automatically drawn to the small open notebook that is placed in my lap, my hand moving rapidly as I take small glances towards the man who caught my attention. I start with small shapes and ovals to gain the way that he sits, leaning back in his seat, his right ankle resting on his left knee, coffee in one hand, a beige folder resting on his lap with his other hand moving across the page.

I pause, resting my pencil in the centre of the notebook, leaning myself forward to take a sip of my now lukewarm coffee. I cringe at the temperature; coffee should always be hot. I've always found the taste changes when drinking cold coffee, and not in a good way. I place the half empty cup back on the table, pushing it away from me ever so slightly before resuming my drawing.

I work more on the details, the small wave in his hair, the way it's tucked neatly behind his ear. I try to capture to concentration in his eyes, the way they move quickly as he read the contents of the folder, the way the sunlight casts a small shadow across his face from his nose and eyelashes. He looked breathtakingly perfect for a moment, I struggled to take my eyes away. And then, the moment was gone as he adjusted his position to be more comfortable. I had to tear my eyes away, turning my attention on shading the dark colour of his slacks, not worrying about the texture at that moment. It's not very often that I find the need to draw something, rather than to want to.

I glance back up to get another glance at the stranger, but he's disappeared, almost like he's vanished into thin air, I scan the area, my eyes searching for him.

"Oh god, does my hair really look like that?" A voice said from behind me. I jump in my seat turning around to see the man I was drawing directly behind my chair. My hand moves across to rest on my chest.

"Why would you sneak up behind someone like that? Are you crazy? I could have a bad heart and a jump scare like that could kill me!" I exclaimed, heart pounding harder in my chest as I look up at him.

His eyes dart down to my arms and wrists before moving back to my face.

"Well, if that were to be true, then you would most likely have a medical wristband that would tell a paramedic, if one was needed, about your condition, so that they would know not to use any drug that increases blood pressure because that would be too much for your heart. They would also know to complete an echocardiogram on arrival to a hospital because of the fact that your heart could be weakened during a stressful event or accident. You don't have one of those, and it doesn't seem like you have ever worn one, so I don't think that you do have any type of heart condition." He spoke quickly, taking few breaths between sentences.

"What, are you some kind of doctor?" My tone of voice showed my confusion, the pitch rising slightly in defence.

He smiled and looked towards the ground before once again meeting my eyes.

"Not a medical one, but I do have 2 PHD's meaning that I do, indeed, have a doctorate title."

"That still doesn't excuse you to creep up behind people and scare them." I retort, a laugh resting in my words.

He laughs with me.

"Okay, point taken. I was just curious because you kept looking up towards me and then doing something on your notepad. I'm sorry if I scared you."

I smiled at him. He goes to move away from me, towards the front door.

"Hey..." He turns back to me. "Do you have somewhere to be right now?"

He glances down to his small watch that sits neatly on his wrist.

"I actually have to leave for work, I'm running a little bit late as it is." He has a neutral, almost sad look on his face.

"Okay then, do I at least get to put a name to your face?" My words put a smile back onto his face. His hands move quickly into his satchel that sits across his shoulder. He pulls out a small piece of paper and hands it to you. The mysterious man turns and leaves pulling the glass door shut behind him.

I look down at the thick paper in my hand. It had an FBI logo at the top and reads 'Dr. Spencer Reid. SSA of the BAU, Quantico.' It includes a personal and office phone number, placed in small print at the bottom of the card. I didn't expect him to be the FBI type.

I tuck the card into my notebook before closing it and placing it on top of the table. I grab my cold cup of coffee, walking up to the counter to order another cup. I thank the cashier before moving back to my table. A smile never leaves my face as I think of him.

Spencer Reid. That's a name I'd like to say more often. It's a face I'd enjoy seeing again.