Spencer liked doing this sometimes, especially after he got released from jail: going to a restaurant, by himself, to enjoy a meal, a glass (only one or two) of whiskey and unwind from his work. He'd usually be nice to waiters and tip nicely, have a normal night, and go home. But tonight, you were there.

Sitting on the table across of his, you had a glass of wine in your hand and you sipped on it occasionally, eyes darting around the restaurant — looking for someone. God, you were stunning, and in the dress you were wearing — even if Spencer couldn't see it completely, since you were sitting down — you looked even prettier. He caught himself looking at you, admiring, as he ate his dinner. But you simply sat there. Alone.

You, unlike Spencer Reid, were not supposed to be alone — you had a date. A guy you had met on a coffee shop while you were heading to work. The guy had asked you out on a date, this restaurant, fancy and nice, and you had said yes — he acted nice enough, and was kind of handsome, so you two exchanged numbers and the date was set. And then, the guy ghosted you. You told him you were ready and going to the restaurant, and he didn't answer.

At first, you thought he could be running late — work, traffic, family. Whatever. But then, you noticed: the dude wasn't coming, he had stood you up. God, you felt so ridiculous, so small, so... ugly.

Spencer noticed. He noticed how your demeanor changed and your shoulders slumped as time went by, and he couldn't help but wonder what was happening. You were about to leave, after finishing the big glass of wine to, at least, avoid crying in public, when the man — Spencer Reid, not your date — sat on the chair in front of yours, on your table.

"Are you okay?", asked this man you didn't know, but was... Shit, he was very, very handsome. And he was in a very pretty suit. And you felt like... trash. Like shit, holding back your tears, as you met his hazel eyes.