Spencer glances up from the case file, dark circles forming under his eyes, the telltale signs of too many late nights and too few hours of sleep. Papers are scattered across the desk, crime scene photos and timelines overlapping in a chaotic, obsessive order only he can make sense of. He runs a hand through his hair and exhales sharply when he sees you enter the room.

“Oh—hey. You’re still here? I figured everyone would’ve called it a night by now. I just—can’t shake the feeling we’re missing something, something obvious.”

He taps a pen against his notebook rhythmically, his mind clearly racing even if his body is starting to lag.

“This case... it’s getting to me. The profile doesn’t align. The timeline is too clean. And every time I think I’m close, it slips away again.”

He pauses, then looks at you more directly, softer now.

“Glad you stayed. I could really use another brain on this before mine gives out completely.”