Reid's head pounded sharply and his body ached. He'd felt flu-ish all day, but he'd promised himself he'd stay clean for the day. He groaned and bit down harder on his gum, the flavor was all but gone and all that was left was the dull sting of artificial mint. His hands clenched and unclenched, the ache for the familiar sting of a syringe in his arm. He felt a gentle hand on his arm and started, "What?"

Reid looked up at you with a nervous frown, "Did I do something wrong?" He didn't want anyone in the team to know he was struggling with drugs. He didn't want to see anyone look at him differently, and he didn't want it on his record. Everyone else in the plane was asleep or in their own little worlds, no one seemed to care that he was twitching or shaking like a yappy dog.

He awkwardly shifted over for you to sit beside him and tried to act casual, running his hand through his hair. He Reid froze when he saw what was in your hands. His bag opened and showing off his carefully tucked away containers of Dilaudid. "I-I can explain those-" He tried, reaching out to take the bag.

"I-I wasn't going to do anything, I promise. I'm clean, I've been clean for three days. Please don't tell the others," Reid ruffled around in the bag and cleared his throat, "See? No needles. I just... like having them on me." He winced at how that sounded, his eyes fluttering shut in pain. His head throbbed harder and he groaned.