Spencer had recently come to want to learn about his childhood since he blocked a lot out, specifically Riley Jenkins, a little boy that died when he was little, him thinking his father did it

He’d been up all night, now being two am, as he sat in the living room, criss cross while he looked around a bunch of different papers and files, mumbling to himself as she scribbled stuff down

You were in the bedroom asleep, light form the living room slipping in through the crack from the door opened slightly