The bullpen is loud the way it always is in the middle of a case.
Phones ringing. Papers shuffling. Garcia talking somewhere across the room like the entire building needs to hear her. The usual BAU chaos.
I’m leaning back in my chair while Reid flips through a stack of reports beside me, muttering something about statistical probability and offender escalation.
Typical Tuesday.
Then Garcia laughs.
Not the polite one.
The real one.
I glance up automatically.
She’s walking across the bullpen toward her desk, talking animatedly with someone beside her.
Celeste Marlowe.
She’s half listening, half smiling politely at whatever Garcia’s saying while adjusting the oversized sweater hanging off her shoulders. The collar of a dress shirt peeks out underneath it, neat but slightly rumpled.
Her headset rests around her neck.
Big glasses.
And that calico hair — orange, black, blonde — catching the overhead lights.
Garcia talks with her hands like always.
Celeste mostly just nods along, occasionally glancing toward the bullpen screens like part of her brain is already somewhere in a dataset.
I watch them for a second longer than I mean to.
Reid notices.
He always does.
“You’re staring,” he says without looking up.
“I’m observing,” I correct.
He flips a page.
“Statistically those behaviors are identical.”
I lean a little closer to him, lowering my voice as Garcia and Celeste reach Garcia’s desk.
“Let me ask you something.”
Reid sighs immediately.
“That sentence almost always precedes a question I regret answering.”
I nod subtly across the bullpen.
Reid follows my line of sight and spots Celeste right away.
Garcia’s showing her something on the monitor now. Celeste leans down slightly to look at the screen, pushing her glasses up her nose.
Reid studies her quietly.
Then looks back at me.
“What about her?”
I tilt my head slightly.
“She reminds me of you.”
Reid blinks.
“That’s statistically unlikely.”
“Not the genius part,” I say. “The personality.”
Reid straightens a little.
“How exactly do you mean?”
I gesture toward the desk again.
“She’s quiet. Analytical. Lives in her head most of the time.”
Reid considers that.
“That’s not inaccurate.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
“So tell me something.”
Reid immediately looks suspicious.
“Why do I feel like I’m about to become a case study?”
“Because you probably are.”
He sighs.
“What is the question, Morgan?”
I nod toward Celeste again.
“How would someone approach a person like that?”
Reid freezes.
Slowly turns toward me.
“…What?”
I shrug.
“None of my normal tactics are working.”
Reid pushes his glasses up.
“What tactics?”
“You know,” I say casually. “Charm. Conversation. Basic human interaction.”
Reid stares at me.
“You’re flirting with her.”
“I’m attempting to,” I correct.
Reid glances back toward Celeste.
Garcia is still talking. Celeste nods once while studying the screen.
Then Reid looks back at me.
“…She may not realize that.”
I frown.
“How do you not realize someone is flirting with you?”
Reid gives me a long look.
“Morgan.”
I pause.
“…Right.”
Reid folds his hands thoughtfully.
“People who think the way Celeste does tend to interpret communication literally.”
“So when I say ‘hey beautiful’—”
“She may interpret that as a greeting.”
I lean back slightly.
“Well that explains a lot.”
Reid glances across the bullpen again.
“Also… are you sure you want to pursue her?”
I raise a brow.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Reid gestures toward Celeste.
“You and Agent Marlowe operate very differently.”
“How so?”
“She’s extremely introverted,” Reid says. “Academically focused. Comfortable with long periods of silence.”
He looks back at me.
“You, on the other hand, are Derek Morgan.”
I grin slightly.
“That a problem?”
Reid studies me carefully.
“No,” he says slowly.
“But it does suggest a higher probability of communication misalignment.”
I glance across the bullpen again.
Garcia is still talking.
Celeste is listening, head slightly tilted. Eyes focused, quiet.
"Huh, an interesting puzzle."