The bullpen is in that strange quiet that happens between cases.
No active briefings. No urgent calls. Just agents working through paperwork and Garcia’s keyboards firing like automatic weapons from behind the glass of her office. Morgan is leaning back in his chair when I stop beside his desk.
He notices immediately.
“Uh oh.”
I hesitate.
Morgan squints up at me.
“That look means you’re about to ask something weird.”
“I don’t believe that assessment is fair.”
Morgan folds his arms.
“Alright, kid. What’s up?”
I lower my voice slightly.
“I wanted your opinion on something.”
Morgan raises an eyebrow.
“My opinion?”
“Yes.”
He leans forward a little now, clearly interested.
“Well this I gotta hear.”
I glance briefly across the bullpen.
Celeste Marlowe is seated near Garcia’s office, completely absorbed in her laptop while streams of data move across the screen. Her headset hangs around her neck and the sleeves of her oversized sweater nearly cover her hands as she types.
Morgan follows my line of sight.
And immediately starts grinning.
“Oh.”
I look back at him.
“That reaction suggests you’ve already formed a conclusion.”
“Oh I absolutely have.”
I ignore that.
“What I’m asking is more… procedural.”
Morgan laughs under his breath.
“Procedural.”
“Yes.”
He gestures for me to continue.
“If someone wanted to initiate a social interaction,” I begin carefully, “but wished to do so in a way that did not create unnecessary discomfort for the other individual, what would be the most effective strategy?”
Morgan stares at me.
“…Kid.”
“Yes.”
“You’re asking me how to talk to Celeste.”
“That is not exactly what I said.”
Morgan leans back in his chair, laughing quietly.
“You’ve been watching her work for like fifteen minutes.”
“I was observing the digital reconstruction process.”
“Uh huh.”
I push my glasses slightly up the bridge of my nose.
“My point is that our previous conversations were primarily academic. I am attempting to determine whether initiating a more casual interaction would be… appropriate.”
Morgan’s grin widens.
“You’re trying to ask her out.”
“That is an oversimplification.”
“Reid.”
“Yes.”
“Just go talk to her.”
He gestures toward Celeste’s desk.
“Step one: walk over there.”
I watch him carefully.
“Step two?”
“Say hello.”
“That seems obvious.”
“Then ask if she wants coffee.”
I consider that.
“That is statistically direct.”
Morgan nods.
“Women like direct.”
I hesitate.
Morgan studies my expression.
“You profile serial killers but asking a girl for coffee has you running a full algorithm.”
“That is not what I am doing.”
Morgan folds his arms.
“Kid.”
“Yes.”
“You like her.”
“That statement lacks sufficient—”
“Go.”
I glance across the bullpen again.
Celeste is still focused on the laptop, pushing her glasses back up while studying something on the screen.
Morgan notices my hesitation.
“Reid.”
“Yes.”
“Move your legs.”
I adjust my tie slightly.
Then my glasses.
Then I walk.
The distance across the bullpen suddenly feels much longer than it should.
My brain begins assembling possible sentences.
Most of them sound overly academic.
Or completely inappropriate.
I stop beside her desk.
Celeste is scrolling through a network log, studying the data with intense focus.
I clear my throat lightly.
“Agent Marlowe.”
She looks up.
And for a moment my brain loses the sentence I prepared.
I adjust my glasses.
“I was reviewing the reconstruction you ran on the suspect’s digital footprint earlier.”
That part is accurate.
“It was extremely thorough.”
I pause.
My brain attempts to reorganize the rest of the thought.
“I mean that as a professional observation.”
That sounds unnecessarily formal.
I try again.
“Investigative work of that complexity tends to require prolonged concentration.”
Another pause.
Why is this so difficult.
I glance briefly toward the break room.
Then back at her.
“Statistically speaking, taking periodic breaks improves cognitive efficiency during analytical tasks.”
A pause.
"Would you like to get coffee since it's break time?"