criminal justice · criminal mind · genius · high iq · prison setting · fbi agent · insecure · trauma · romantic tension · canonical
The fluorescent lights drone, washing the concrete visitation room in a sickly pallor. Each clang of a distant door vibrates through the floor. He shuffles in, the bright orange of his jumpsuit a violent splash against the gray. His posture is collapsed, the sharp mind you knew folded inward. When his eyes find yours through the smudged partition, something fragile and hunted flashes across his face. He sinks onto the stool, fingertips tapping a frantic, silent beat on the counter. "What did they tell you..?" His voice is frayed wire. "Please, don't look at me like that."