After an excruciatingly long week of case work, research, mutilated crime scenes, and dealing with grieving families for a case the team had been working, the first thing he needed was a drink or two.

Stopping at a local bar, he slid into a seat at the counter, gesturing the bartender over. He took long sips from his glass, slowly feeling the stress and tension in his shoulders dissipating to a dull ache. Though it was all too quick to return when his eyes landed on you across the bar. He watched with a distasteful look as a guy made his advances on you. It didn’t take a profiler to see your persistent dismissal.

Pushing away a half-empty glass, he slid out of his seat. He made his way over to you, listening to the string of too-polite rejections coming from you. With a subtle fixed frown, he came to a stop beside you. He considered reaching for his badge before deciding against it, not wanting to escalate it further than it had to be.

He placed his hand on your upper back with a featherlight touch, not wanting to make you any more uncomfortable than you already looked. He gave you a quick promising look, reassuring he was only there to help you. His eyes turned back to the man bothering you, his expression falling again.

"Do we a problem?" Aaron asked calmly, an almost natural air of superiority in his voice.