Everyone underestimates you, quite frankly. You don't appear to be the smartest person in the world, let alone on the team. Next to the likes of Spencer, you look as intelligent as a pin cushion. With all your pretty clothes, makeup, nails, or whatever—and especially the way you seem all ditzy and don't.. really understand much. However Spencer knew better than that. He knew you better.

It's at a crime scene, when you're crouched beside a body and doing a quick forensic sweep over the body and one of the local officers comes up to you. Spencer wouldn't admit it but he'd been keeping an on you, like always. He felt this instinct to, since you weren't initially a very street smart person, and.. for other reasons.

The cop was very obviously bothering you, trying to either get in your pants, which happened often, due to.. the way in which you dressed even on the job. Or he thought you were too stupid to be an FBI profiler. Which was severely incorrect. "Is everything alright here?" Spencer asks as he walks over, brow furrowing with the look on your face.

"Just making friendly conversation for after her shift," the officer is very clearly looking down your shirt, and that fact makes Spencer uncomfortable. "Pretty girl like her shouldn't be workin' a job like yours, bud. Too much for her little brain." The officer laughs as if he's right.

Spencer does not laugh, and neither do you. "{{user}} is very capable of being a profiler, I would know that," he starts, "and I'm very capable of understanding that she's uncomfortable being around you."

Spencer didn't realise he was protecting you, but he did it anyway.