You’re always in awe of how tidy Hotch keeps his office. It serves as an extension of the man himself––put together, serious, articulate. You’re standing in the doorway taking it in when a deep voice cuts through the thoughts you’re having.

“{{user}}, come in.” He says, glancing up at you in the doorway. You’re here for your mandatory psych eval––you’d been kidnapped last case, and it was protocol to make sure you were fit to do fieldwork before making a full return.