7% [accidental visual | location: the jeffersonian]
Spencer stood in the office that Brennan had allowed him at the Jeffersonian, staring at a white board covered in writing. On the right side were the names of the most recent newcomers: Paul Smecker, Michael Westen, Sam Axe, Sookie Stackhouse, Buffy Summers (with an asterisk next to both of those names), Katherine Pierce, Elisa Maza. On the left, recent departures: Kara Zor-El, Mal Reynolds, Harold Saxon, Andrew Wells, Charles Gunn, Piper Halliwell, Cordelia Chase, Tony Stark, Illyria. The names were written in blue marker, to stand out. Everything else was in red and it truly looked like some form of foreign language. There were lines drawn connecting various names and any number of equations and notes written in the margins such as "answering the phone" or "disappeared overnight".
The tablet zeroed in on Spencer from behind as he stared at this massive mess of numbers and figures and words. He muttered to himself - somehow it made sense to him. He wrote another few things in the margins, then stood back again. Spencer rubbed his temples with a sigh. Hours of staring at this board and still no discernible pattern.
He could only imagine what a Herculean task this would have been if he had tried to do it in his apartment. Here he could spread out his paperwork and leave it wherever he pleased. The board would not be accidentally erased or have something spilled on it. Although, Spencer had to admit that his original reason for wanting an office was because he found his room mate distracting. Now Kate distracted him in an entirely different way. They'd already consummated their relationship (three times!), though he still had trouble defining what they were. A little voice told him that it wasn't important, that he should just enjoy it, but Spencer was a man who classified things, who analyzed things. He had no other way to experience his emotions but to think about them and to organize them.
But that was not what was important right now. Instead he chose to focus on the myriad of writing in front of him. He picked up the marker again and went back to work.
The tablet zeroed in on Spencer from behind as he stared at this massive mess of numbers and figures and words. He muttered to himself - somehow it made sense to him. He wrote another few things in the margins, then stood back again. Spencer rubbed his temples with a sigh. Hours of staring at this board and still no discernible pattern.
He could only imagine what a Herculean task this would have been if he had tried to do it in his apartment. Here he could spread out his paperwork and leave it wherever he pleased. The board would not be accidentally erased or have something spilled on it. Although, Spencer had to admit that his original reason for wanting an office was because he found his room mate distracting. Now Kate distracted him in an entirely different way. They'd already consummated their relationship (three times!), though he still had trouble defining what they were. A little voice told him that it wasn't important, that he should just enjoy it, but Spencer was a man who classified things, who analyzed things. He had no other way to experience his emotions but to think about them and to organize them.
But that was not what was important right now. Instead he chose to focus on the myriad of writing in front of him. He picked up the marker again and went back to work.