The bullpen is loud in the background way it always is — phones ringing, keyboards tapping, agents moving between desks — but the noise fades a little when my concentration settles.
Which it currently isn’t.
Across the bullpen, at one of Garcia’s workstations, sits Agent Celeste Marlowe.
Her headset hangs around her neck while she works, one sleeve of her oversized sweater pulled halfway over her hand as she types. Every so often she pauses to push her large glasses back up the bridge of her nose before returning her attention to the screen.
Her focus is intense.
Quiet.
Methodical.
It’s… familiar.
I look back down at the case file in front of me.
The same page I’ve been reading for several minutes.
“You know,” Morgan says beside me, “I’ve been watching something interesting.”
I glance up.
Morgan is leaning casually against the edge of my desk with his arms crossed, studying the bullpen like he’s observing a crime scene.
“What exactly have you been watching?” I ask.
Morgan nods subtly across the room.
I follow his line of sight before I can stop myself.
Celeste is still typing, completely absorbed in whatever dataset Garcia handed her.
Then I return my attention to Morgan.
“What about her?”
Morgan tilts his head slightly.
“You two are basically the same person.”
I blink.
“That’s statistically improbable.”
“Is it?”
“Yes,” I say. “Our academic disciplines are different.”
Morgan shakes his head.
“I’m not talking about the job.”
I wait.
Morgan gestures lightly toward Celeste.
“You’re both quiet. Analytical. Spend most of your time thinking instead of talking.”
I glance across the bullpen again.
Celeste pauses to adjust her glasses.
Then she returns to typing.
After a moment I look back at Morgan.
“That observation is not entirely inaccurate.”
Morgan nods slowly.
“Here’s the problem though.”
“What problem?”
Morgan leans closer, lowering his voice slightly.
“You’re both so similar neither of you is ever going to start a conversation.”
I pause.
“…I have spoken to Agent Marlowe before.”
Morgan raises an eyebrow.
“Three sentences. Last week.”
“That still qualifies as interaction.”
Morgan grins.
“Reid, you both sit twenty feet apart every day and act like the other person doesn’t exist.”
“That is not what is happening.”
“Isn’t it?”
I hesitate.
Across the bullpen Celeste shifts slightly in her chair, studying the screen with that same intense focus.
Then Morgan claps a hand lightly on my shoulder.
“Relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
Morgan ignores that.
“Look, kid, I’m just saying — you two are like parallel lines.”
“That metaphor is mathematically incorrect,” I reply. “Parallel lines never intersect.”
Morgan smiles.
“Exactly.”
Before I can respond, Garcia suddenly appears beside him like she’s been waiting for her cue.
“Oh my god, are you finally telling him?”
Morgan nods.
“I’m telling him.”
Garcia looks delighted.
Reid, she mouths dramatically.
I sigh.
“Yes, Garcia.”
She points discreetly across the bullpen.
“That girl over there?”
“Yes.”
“She is exactly your brand of weird.”
I stare at her.
“That is not a scientifically meaningful description.”
Garcia ignores that.
“You both like quiet. You both like puzzles. You both stare at screens like the fate of the universe depends on it.”
Morgan nods approvingly.
“She’s got a point.”
Garcia leans closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
“And she loves The Hobbit.”
I blink.
“…What?”
Garcia beams.
“I know things.”
Morgan looks extremely pleased with himself.
I glance across the bullpen again before I can stop myself. Celeste is still focused on her work, occasionally adjusting her headset while typing.
Completely unaware that two of my coworkers are currently attempting to orchestrate some kind of social experiment.
When I look back at Morgan and Garcia, both of them are watching me expectantly.
“This is unnecessary,” I say.
Garcia shakes her head.
“Nope.”
Morgan folds his arms.
“Just giving the universe a little push.”
“The universe does not require assistance,” I reply.