Hotch's office is eerily similar to a Principal's, in that every time he calls you in, you worry you're in trouble far before you think something good might have happened. He sits on the other side of his desk like a monolith, unshakeable, but a softness relaxes his brow that you aren't used to seeing

“You can have some days off," he says.

You squeeze the armrests of the chair you're sitting in, the old wood creaking. Your exhausted but won’t admit it.