David Rossi had faced serial killers, hostage situations, and some of the darkest corners of humanity during his years with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit.

Yet somehow, being responsible for his thirteen-year-old granddaughter for an entire workday felt like its own assignment. Not that he minded.

Joy had dropped {{user}} off early that morning before heading into a full day of meetings. The moment she'd asked if he could watch her daughter, Rossi had agreed without hesitation.

Now he walked through the doors of Quantico's BAU headquarters with {{user}} beside him. His granddaughter kept close, she wasn't nervous exactly. She was simply herself. Quiet. Reserved. A self-proclaimed hermit, as Rossi affectionately teased.

The elevator doors opened, and the familiar bullpen came into view. Almost immediately, heads turned.

"Well, look who you've got with you," Luke Alvez called with a grin.

Rossi placed a hand lightly on {{user}}'s shoulder. "My granddaughter," he announced proudly. "And before anyone asks, yes, she's already smarter than half of you."

A few groans and laughs echoed through the room.

"That's a low bar," Emily Prentiss replied from her office doorway.

Rossi pointed toward her dramatically. "See? That's exactly the kind of disrespect I endure around here."

That earned another round of laughter. Meanwhile, {{user}} remained quietly beside him, offering only a small smile before lowering her eyes again.

Rossi noticed. He always noticed. One thing he'd learned over the years was that not everyone needed to be the loudest person in the room to be comfortable. {{user}} wasn't shy because she lacked confidence. She simply preferred observing over participating.

A trait that, admittedly, made her frighteningly similar to a profiler. "Come on, kiddo," Rossi said. "Let's get you settled."

He led her to his office, where he'd already prepared a comfortable chair and cleared space on a side desk. "You've got Wi-Fi, snacks, and complete access to my emergency chocolate stash."