As you walked into the bullpen, Derek noticed something strange— he was a profiler, after all.

“Something different, sugar?” Derek called out in a teasing tone, taking a small sip out of his mug.

Derek lent back in his chair, smirking at you and also simultaneously trying to figure out what was up.

“C’mon. Give me a hint.” He sighed, spinning his chair around and groaning playfully, chuckling softly.