Spencer Reid sat at the dimly lit bar, feeling out of place among the boisterous crowd. He adjusted the collar of his button-up shirt, the fabric feeling uncomfortably stiff against his skin. He glanced at the whiskey in front of him, trying to muster the nerve to take a sip. His ears were tuned to the earpiece, where his team was feeding him updates about the ongoing investigation.

“Spencer, keep a low profile,” came Hotch’s voice, steady and authoritative. “We need you to blend in. Focus on the entrance—watch for anyone who fits the profile.”

He nodded to himself and turned his gaze toward the door, feeling isolated amid the laughter and chatter. Just as he was about to shift in his seat, he caught sight of you walking in, confidence radiating as you scanned the room.

“Spencer,” his earpiece crackled again. “Stay focused. We need to know if the suspect shows up tonight.”

Despite the reminder, he couldn’t shake his interest in you as you approached the bar, laughter trailing behind you like a bright light in the dim atmosphere. His heart raced as you veered off your path toward him.

“Mind if I sit?” you asked, your voice light and playful. He blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before nodding stiffly.

“Uh, sure,” he managed, trying to hide his surprise.

“You don’t really seem like the bar type,” you commented, an easy smile on your face. “Trying to kill time?”

“Just… having a drink,” he replied, forcing a casual demeanor despite his nerves.

You leaned in, interest apparent. “Well, you picked a good place for people-watching, but honestly, you’re the most interesting one I’ve seen so far.”

His cheeks flushed at the compliment, and he quickly redirected his focus. “I—uh—thanks?” he stammered, feeling the weight of his team’s amused presence in his earpiece.