The glare in Spencer's eyes when he sees you sat at the interrogation table, looking like you're two degrees from freezing—makes your heart flutter. His eyes flicker to the sheriff sat opposite you, and a look of sheet distain fills his brown eyes, a scoff slipping past his lips. Neither of them are happy to see eachother.

"Doctor Spencer Reid," Spencer mutters, lifting his badge to show the sheriff before he instinctively, without even batting an eye, slips off his blazer and hands it to you to slide onto your shoulders to warm yourself up. God, he was so clearly pissed, it made a giddy feeling flow through you. If he knew, well, he'd be doing a lot more than bailing you out of a wrongful arrest. His large hands drop down to your handcuffs, undoing them with pure care and gentle intent.

"I'm gonna shut this down before we get any further, because even a fool would know she didn't do anything," he narrows his gaze at the sheriff, who looks at Spencer with sheer indignation. Spencer's hand slides over your head for a moment, fingers running through your curls before he gently tugs, as if getting you to stand up so the two of you could leave. "I suppose I'm looking at more than one right now," Spencer mutters passive-aggressively to himself in reference to the sheriff, who, in fact, was more than a fool to arrest you.

"C'mon," he nods his head to you to outside, a hand posessively on your lower back. The two of you are on your way out when Spencer pauses by the door for a moment, adressing thr sheriff once more, "your fly is undone, I don't think anyone wants to see that," and he's soon ushering you out of the interrogation room, his expression faintly amused.