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continued from [x] @reportsis
Elouise let out a little yelp and wriggled away like she was about to be tickled. The dirty look was sharp and she tried to poke her back, but the blonde was just a bit too quick. “It’s no one! Nothing--I mean, we’re not--it wasn’t gonna be anything.” Yep, she gave herself away. “Shut up. What about you and Jin?” There was a little wriggle to her brow.
@reportsis con’t from (x)
everyone in the BAU had to take a vacation at some point, hotch just really hated when that person was jj. nobody else kept the wolves from his door like she could. the offering of coffee lets him know this young reporter is eager for approval. not his, but probably a boss or supervisor, maybe a parental figure. she wants to be the best at her job, which is something that hotch can appreciate. he eyes the coffee and relents, he’d been BURIED in paperwork all morning so he’s inclined to accept her offer -- even with a very loaded question attached. he removes the cup and sets it neatly on his desk before focusing on her inquiry.
❝the concentration is a byproduct of SENSATIONALISM in the news coverage on these types of crimes. if it doesn’t fuel the ego or rage of the killer, then it publicizes their manifesto, or allows them to relive the act on 24 hour repeat BREAKING news coverage.❞ he gives her the faintest smile to lighten the blow of his assessment. ❝do you have any further questions miss?❞
@REPORTSIS SENT : ❛ HI CAN U CASUALLY ASK MALCOLM IF HIS FAVORITE CAKE IS STILL VANILLA & ALSO CLEAR OUT YOUR SCHEDULE FOR THE 25TH ?? WE’RE THROWING HIM A PARTY THANK U LOVE U BYEEE ❤️ ❜
CONTACT ID — AINS 💁🏼♀️ sms – delivered : he doesn’t really fuck with solid foods , but he said he does still like vanilla the best. i hope that helps? sms – delivered : i’ll be there! i’d be a horrible friend if i wasn’t. will your guys’ mom be there? sms – delivered : we haven’t exactly encountered one another yet. from what malcolm has said , i don’t exactly think i’m who she’d prefer he hangs out with. & i hope there’s not a scene made. sms – delivered : i don’t exactly exude vibes of the girl you want your mom to meet. y’know? 😫
@reportsis from [x]
“Ainsley.”
Sometimes, Jessica impressed herself with how well she’d developed her ‘mom voice’. Her daughter’s tension was clear in every ounce of her body language, and Jessica flicked a pointed glance down at her hands.
“You aren’t even pretending to listen to me ramble about the absolute fiasco of last night’s symphony. Something’s wrong.”
" tough day at the office? " (likeason)
@likeason
“I didn’t consider myself a drinking man until today, if that counts for something. Spend a day at the office and try not to wish for a bottle of scotch. It’s harder than it sounds.” Gil sighed, the stress of his work clear by the bags under his eyes and the slumped shoulders that held the weight of the world on him. Everyone in the precinct loved ragging on the rookie. They all loved giving him all of the bullshit work that nobody else wanted to do. He had desk work and misdemeanors galore to work with, but nothing worthy of merit.
“You should see how my superiors handle themselves. Half of them don’t respect the work they’re doing and the other half doesn’t even know what half the charges they’re giving are.” Gil shook his head. Even if he felt like ranting, he knew he didn’t want to shove all of that on Jackie. “How about you? Eventful day?”
″ ainsley, if you think i don’t know what you’re doing, you’re wrong. as the lieutenant of the nypd, i can’t just go spilling all the details of my cases just because you ask me nicely. points for effort though. ″
his tone was a friendly type of chiding. the type of someone used to the other’s ruses, & appreciates them for their tact. she wasn’t explicitly saying, ″ hey, gramps, give me all the details on that homicide ″ but reading between the lines was a part of his line of work. the wrinkles of his laugh lines deepened with a slight smile.
@reportsis for [ ♡ ]
@reportsis ↳ continued from here.
He wants to tell Ainsley that sickness such as her father’s is made. Crafted carefully and forcefully through a primordial soup of opportunity, genes, and fermentation. Circumstance and aligned personality disorders and the now mocked, refrigerator mother of the 1950s to rear someone capable of murder. But that would still be inheriting such a sickness, wouldn’t it? Absorbing the urge. Learning it.
Maybe even liking it.
Will gives Ainsley a long look, eyes fixed somewhere just above her head, and finally answers quietly, ❝There’s no denying that certain pathologies can be...Hereditary, if that is what you mean. But there are usually signs along the way. Behaviors that precede and can make identifying people like your father easier.❞ A pause, then, ❝Pathological lying, can be one of them.❞
He leans forward and rests elbows on his knees, chin in his hands. ❝Do you consider lying and secrets to be of the same nature?❞
@reportsis gets a gil (sc)
“Don’t you think you might be getting just a bit caught up with this story on The Surgeon?” As much as he could, Gil kept The Surgeon separated from ‘your dad’. It might just be a habit because of Malcolm but Ainsley deserved the same separation unless she deemed she wanted otherwise. It was already a bit concerning to him how eager she had been to tackle this story but then again, Gil had dealt with thirsty journalists for years.
