Will sits in his fishing boat, the night sky twinkling over him as he holds his rod, waiting for a fish of some sorts to pull at it. His dog, Winston, laid in the boat with him, curled up and asleep.

The night was peaceful, and gorgeous. Only one thing was wrong. You.

A siren, a creature laughing around in the lake, watching him from afar as the FBI profiler fished, unaware and blissful, his face resting in a bitchy expression, as usual.