London Calling RPG

Spencer looked up, then carefully moved the picture so it wasn't quite so exposed.

"Worst I've been asked to look at in a while," he replied, nodding in agreement, his voice soft and cracking slightly the way it often did when he was upset or unhappy.

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Dutch liked this café. The coffee was good, the pastries were amazing, and obviously, the wifi served wonderfully for some of the things she had to do. She was done with work for today, and closed her sticker-covered laptop, pulling her earbuds out. As she reached over for her messenger bag to put it all away in, her gaze landed on a picture in a... paper file, people still used those, the guy the next table over was reading.

"Lovely reading material," she noted, as she straightened up and put the beat up messenger bag on her lap.

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Spencer wasn't currently looking at the photo, and he appeared to be genuinely apologetic as he tucked it beneath some other papers.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have brought those here, I just- I needed to look at the file with fresh eyes. Sometimes taking it somewhere new helps..."

He realized he was rambling a little, and he pushed his hair back behind his ears as he looked down at the table again.

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Hotch had had to do a bit of work at the office but he'd told Reid he'd meet up with him at the cafe. He came in with another thick accordion file and sat down at Spencer's table.

"I have information on all the murders in the U.K. that match the evidence collected so far," he said instead of hello. "It looks like these aren't the first children found."

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"And sometimes you've just gotta get your mind off it for a while?" Dutch guessed. It was the way it was, with her and something she couldn't crack. Both what he'd said, and what she had.

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Spencer was downing in his thoughts, none of which seemed to be even vaguely related to the case at hand at the moment- So when Hotch sat down to join him, he looked a little like the kid who'd somehow managed to fall asleep in the back of the classroom.

"Oh, right, I- um, I'll start reading them," he offered. "If we can find enough evidence that the victims all share a killer, we can use the larger victim pool to find a calling card, or at least a clear MO."

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Hotch nodded, but he'd noticed. He looked at Spencer critically for a moment and asked, "What were you thinking about before I interrupted?"

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"Yes- Especially when it feels as if wasting away because people wont let you use it to its full ability," Spencer frowned to himself, pausing, then looking up. He couldn't help be feel embarrassed again when he realized how awful that likely sounded, given what he was working on.

"I just mean... I haven't, um, had a chance to see any of the crime scenes up close. They're offering me information that's already been filtered through someone else. It's like being given a puzzle to put together when someone's already started trying to jam pieces together."

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"See, I'd just take the puzzle apart all over again, and start over," Dutch remarked with a purse of her lips. Her gear finally tucked away, she put the bag back down by her chair, and reached for her coffee. "Not sure it could apply to your thing, though." Sometimes, metaphors only went so far.

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"Nothing," Spencer lied quickly- Before pausing and realizing it was really sort of pointless to lie to Hotch. The other man's gaze alone had cracked tougher nuts than himself, his voice had broken the resolve of dangerous killers, and the sharp line of his shoulders could make armed men quake. ...Really, what chance did he have against all of that?

"I- Well, um, I was thinking about, um- About other job opportunities that have come up recently."

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"I can't blame it all on the puzzle," Spencer admitted. "Some of it's me."

He closed the file and picked up his coffee, taking a sip and then pulling a face when he found it had grown cold.

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"Oh? Like what?" he asked. "Going back to King's?"

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Pushing his hair back behind his ears, Spencer looked down at his hands. The skin on his left index finger seemed dryer than the rest, and his eyes focused on the minute patch of flaky skin as he shrugged.

"Actually, Security Services approached me not that long ago," he admitted awkwardly, feeling almost like a traitor for even considering taking a job somewhere else.

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"Good money?" Hotch asked, more happy that it meant Spencer would be staying in London than anything. Working for the legat's office was something where he could quit and leave at any time, but having SPencer here with him made him more willing to stay.

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"I don't know, I didn't ask. ...It isn't about that though. It's- I feel stagnant right now, Hotch," Spencer admitted quietly.

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"Stagnant? I can understand that. This isn't like Quantico, is it?" he asked. "We were always doing something there."

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"Yes- And when there is work I find I often feel as though my talents aren't being used to their full potential. It's stifling, and it's starting to effect me outside of work," Spencer admitted.

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"I know exactly what you mean. I've actually been thinking of going another direction myself. If not leaving England entirely, then starting an independent consulting service. Aiding local law enforcement but without the constraints of the legat's office. It's an idea I've been kicking around," he said.

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"Don't leave England," Spencer said quickly, eyes going slightly wide as he looked at Hotch. The young doctor didn't mean to look like a kicked dog, but honestly- There was no better comparison.

And when he said 'Don't leave England', it was clear that what he meant was, 'Don't leave me.'

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Hotch gave a single nod. "What are your thoughts on consulting?" he asked. "I couldn't do it alone."

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Dutch smiled at his grimace, and hailed the nearby waitress. "Could we get the same again? Cheers."

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melehan

Melehan was heading out of the cafe with a cup of to-go coffee in his hand. He slowed when he passed Spencer, looking over the other man's shoulder to see what he was reading. He was expecting it to be boring, probably insurance or something, and was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn't.

"Holy shit," he said, sounding far more pleased than was really appropriate. "Are you reading about a murder?"

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anamusebouche

Hannibal had very little tolerance for anyone who would harm young children. "May I join you?" He asked. He always asked. He never would sit down uninvited.

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