Lt. Morgan reporting for ... some shit (tag to police types, OTA)

[efffthisshhhht]

So, Deb woke up with a motherfucker of a hangover. Her head felt like a big balloon filled with cement that was mixed with tequila. Fuck. Gabriel must've gotten her back to her room because she sure as shit didn't remember getting there

Comments

[numbersnfigures]

Spencer glanced up from his file and then moved across the room to the irritated-looking woman. Perhaps she was here to register some kind of complaint.

"May I help you?"

[efffthisshhhht]

"You tell me!" Sarcasm laid on thick. She flashed him her badge. "Miami Homicide, just arrived to this fine town last fucking night. So ... yeah, I guess you can."

(Sorry, Spencer. On a good day, Deb wasn't exactly diplo-fucking-matic.)

[numbersnfigures]

Spencer glanced down at her badge. He was going to assume that her anger was mostly due to the fact that she had woken up in a magical village and had no idea how she had gotten here and why she couldn't leave.

"Dr. Spencer Reid, FBI.. as it were."

[efffthisshhhht]

"FBI.... "

Deb nearly deflated. "Any chance you know Frank Lundy?"

She still really fucking missed Lundy.

[numbersnfigures]

Spencer shook his head.

"I'm afraid not. The FBI employs approximately 13,864 agents, so even if he worked at Quantico as I do, my chances of knowing him would be slim."

He relayed the statements in an informative fashion, not sounding as though he was trying to be sarcastic or rude.

[efffthisshhhht]

Yeah, well, fuck him very much anyway. Deb sighed. "Yeah, well." And she flashed him her badge. "Lieutenant Morgan, Miami Homicide. Seeing about a job."

[numbersnfigures]

"Yes, you said that. You'll probably have to speak to the chief, John McClane. He does the hiring, so to speak."

Spencer looked the woman over briefly. She was obviously tough, skeptical.

"Have you just arrived in the village?"

[efffthisshhhht]

"What was your first clue?" Deb just avoided calling him Einstein. She did note the name though, McClane.

[numbersnfigures]

"You look as though you have no idea what's going on, which is common amongst newcomers."

He remembered the feeling well. It had taken him nearly a week to accept that he was here and that this wasn't some sort of joke or dream.

"How much have you been told already?"

[efffthisshhhht]

Was this a quiz? Deb tapped her fingers on the desk, hip cocked to the side. "That I need a job," she said pointedly. Then she sighed and said, "that we're all fucking trapped her like rats in some gigantic douchehead's trap till we learn a lesson."

[numbersnfigures]

Spencer nodded.

"That's the gist of it, yes. There are people here from the past, people from completely different dimensions and planets, people who are fictional in our world but very real in their own. It's... different. I never would have believed any of it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

[efffthisshhhht]

"... fictional?" Up went Deb's eyebrows. "Care to elaborate?"

[numbersnfigures]

Spencer leaned in a bit, a smile on his face.

"Faramir from J.R.R. Tolkein's Lord of the Rings series, as well as Denethor, his father."

And Spencer was very pleased that Faramir considered him a friend.

[efffthisshhhht]

And Spencer could have been speaking French for all Deb got from that. "... ooookay. So cut to the chase: Does this place suck?"

[numbersnfigures]

Spencer was surprised she hadn't heard of them. He assumed (wrongly) that most children read the Lord of the Rings series.

"That depends on each individual and what would make them happy. It tends to be quiet here, though strange events happen at times. My life is very regular... less stressed than in Virginia. The village has a tendency to give you what you need."

Or in his case, a person he needed. He smiled, thinking of her.

"I can imagine that it would be boring for people who lead very exciting lives or like to travel a lot."

[efffthisshhhht]

No to the travel. Yes to the excitement, but not because Deb made it that way. Serial killer fiances had that effect. "What I need, huh?" Huh.