Spencer Reid sat at the table and let his coffee cool down. He pulled out his book and quickly became engulfed in it, not paying any attention to the people in the café. He was pulled from his book by a concerned voice.

"Excuse me, sir, but you haven't had a sip of your coffee yet, and it's getting rather cold." He could feel the girl's eyes on him, but he didn't move. "My friends—the other workers—are worried. They said you normally burn your tongue on the scalding coffee." He looks up to the girl and his jaw drops softly. Her red curls are pulled back in a semi-messy ponytail, and her eyebrows are raised. Reid's eyebrows knit together.

"I haven't seen you here before. Are you new?" The girl nods, blushes, and smoothes a loose curl back. Reid smiles at her. "Well, I'm fine, I promise. I'm just caught up in my book." Reid holds the small book up so she can see. She smiles, her cheekbones more prominent. Her eyes crinkle the slightest bit, hiding the different shades of brown from Reid's sight.

"Noi leggeveamo un giorno per diletto, di Lancialotto, come amor lo strinse."A smirk plays on Reid's lips. Her Italian was flawless. She chuckles. "Would you like me to replace your coffee, sir?" He just nods, and she smiles to go back behind the counter. It wasn't everyday he met a girl that read Dante's Inferno; the days were less common when they were attractive and could quote the piece. Reid looks down at his book and smirks. It looks like his morning was turning out pretty well after all.

~CM~CM~CM~CM~

Derek Morgan smirks as Reid walks in to the bullpen. "Well looks like Pretty Boy finally decided to join us." Morgan raises an eyebrow when he sees the kid smile back.

"I technically have another 5 minutes before I'm considered late," Reid spits out, taking a seat at his desk. Morgan frowns.

"No statistics to go with that, Dr. Reid?" The kid looks at Morgan and shakes his head. Morgan laughs. "Well, it's a miracle!" Reid chuckles, but starts on his paperwork. He wanted to take an early lunch. "So, Reid, do indulge us… what were you doing this morning that made you late?"

"I wasn't late," Reid replies, not looking up from his paperwork. He can feel Derek's eyes on him, and he also knows that Derek is smiling. "If you must know, I waited too long to drink the coffee I got this morning, so I had to wait for a fresh batch to be made." The monotonous tone Reid used made Derek suspicious, but he didn't push it. Morgan got back to his stack of paperwork. It was his least favorite part of the job and he wanted to be done earlier than usual.

"Spencer, we need you in the office now." Reid looked up to Rossi, who was walking back to Hotch's office. A small chill went down Reid's back; he knew he wasn't in trouble, yet he still felt anxious. He walked up the small flight of stairs and joined Dave Rossi in Aaron Hotchner's office.

"Shut the door," Hotch said, not bothering to look up. After the small click was hear, Hotch looked up from his paperwork. "Reid, why were you late this morning?" Spencer's throat dries.

"Uh, s-sorry s-sir. You said you wanted us in at nine o'clock this morning. I was here at eight fifty-five, sir." Reid awkwardly explained himself, blushing when he saw Rossi smirk and roll his eyes.

"No, Reid, you were on time according to your work schedule, but you were late when it comes to your personal schedule. You normally arrive here every morning an hour earlier than I need you to come in—sometimes earlier if you have paperwork that you put off doing. However, today I looked out the window of my office at eight fifty and you still weren't in to work. Needless to say, I was a bit worried. The only time you've been considerably late—in any fashion—was when you…" Hotch didn't finish, and he didn't need to. Reid knew exactly what he was going to say: when you were addicted to dilaudid. Reid shakes his head.

"Oh, no, sir. I was at the café I normally stop at, off Barnett Road. I stop there every morning for my coffee. Today, my coffee was cold and I had to wait for another ten minutes. As I normally do in the late summer, I rode my bike to the café. When I walked out, I witnessed a teenager ride off on my brand new mountain bike. So I was forced to walk ten blocks before I could find a cab that wouldn't get stuck in traffic." Hotch nods and Rossi gives a low whistle.

"Sounds like a rough morning," Rossi says, raising an eyebrow. He tried not to profile his team members, but Spencer Reid was just too happy, under the circumstances. "Yet you are happier and more awake than most mornings. Why is that?" He was honestly curious. He and the kid weren't very close, but they were still like a family. And right now he was a curious brother. Reid just smiled.

"It's not every day you meet a woman who can quote The Inferno and make the perfect cup of coffee." Reid exits the office, and Rossi smiles. He turns toward Hotch.

"I can't believe it," Rossi stated, smiling. Hotch laughed.

"Who'd have thought the kid would meet a girl?" Hotch couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his throat. He had never pictured Reid being able to talk to women outside of his job.

Rossi shakes his head. "The kid better act quickly; any woman that is of legal age and can quote Dante has a possibility of being my fourth ex-wife." The pair laughed for a good while before going back to their work.

~CM~CM~CM~CM~

Reid enters back in to the café. Normally he wouldn't be back until he got off work and was on his way home, but he had to catch a peak at the redheaded beauty from earlier. He sat down, ordered a pulled chicken sandwich, and pulled out his copy of The Inferno. He'd read it many times, the poetry soothing him no matter how dark it seemed. He pushed the book aside when the redheaded waitress approached him with his food. She works quick, Reid thought as she set down his food.

"Still reading, sir?" She chuckled. "I would have guessed you would be done by now. I mean, you're reading rather fast." He gave her a smile.

"I tend to slow down my reading when I'm trying to get my mind off things. Right now, I'm taking a break from work." She laughed, a small blush lining her cheeks. Reid noticed the light freckles splattered across her cheeks and nose.

"So, sir, you're telling me you usually make your brain do overload and process twenty-thousand words a minute?" Reid raised an eyebrow, impressed. He knew it was fact, but he didn't usually have normal citizens spewing that kind of information out. She blushed and looked down, avoiding his gaze. "Sorry, that's a stupid fact I learned from my dad. He mentioned it in one of his letters." She backs up some. "I didn't mean to disturb you, sir."

Reid places his hand on hers. "If you're not too busy, miss, you can stay. I don't mind. Anyone that's half as smart as you is worth having a conversation with." She blushes, sitting down across from Reid. "I insist that you stop with the 'sirs'. My name is Spencer." The redhead smiles, smoothing her curls back.

"H-hi Spencer. I'm Bridie—er, well, Bridget. But most people just call me Bridie." He laughs.

"Really? Well, hello Bridie. I've been wondering all morning…how do you know Italian? You speak it so effortlessly!" She laughs.

"My father is Italian," she says with a far off glance. She shakes her head and looks back at Spencer.

"Yet your first name suggests you're of Irish decent. Meaning your parents either agreed upon the name, or your mother named you without thought of your father's decent. Which means your parents are likely divorced—or never married. You grew up in a single household, likely with just your mother. The admiration is too strong to have grown up with just your father." Reid stops talking to take a bite of his sandwich. The redhead raises her eyebrows.

"So, you're a profiler. Let me guess, the BAU." It's Reid's turn to be surprised, but he nods. She laughs. "Well, what a surprise. I've actually applied for a position there. Is your team leader Aaron Hotchner?" Reid again just nods. Bridie laughs. "Alright, Spencer, I have to get back to work. I'm sure you do, too. You can come back here any time." She stands up, but looks back at Reid. "Or you can give me a call sometime." The genius knits his eyebrows together. Bridie cuts him off. "Front pocket of your slacks. I'll talk to you later, Spencer." She walked away from the table, and Reid watched her petite form walk away. She was tiny—maybe 5'0 and barely 90 pounds—but she definitely had the feminine curves of a woman. He laughed as he pulled out the business card.

A woman who spoke Italian, could quote a classic epic, was a fan of magic, and went through The Academy? There's no way Reid was turning down an offer like this. He leaves a tip and exits the small café with every intention of coming back tomorrow afternoon.