miami metro police department, 6:45am;

spencer is found in the lab. sitting cross-legged with three thick note books piled between the space of his legs as a makeshift desk, one open on top of the mess. wild hair hanging in front of his eyes, a pen tucked behind his right ear. spidery fingers slide smoothly from page to page. smooth, instinctive page turns a breath or two apart have already added a small stack he's completed. own notes stuffed with newspaper articles and torn notebook and book pages serve as evidence of the work he's done. precisely compiled. neat in his way.

unlike the gray cardigan that's been taken off and shoved away. or his crooked blue tie pulled loose and wonkily framing one popped button on a deep green shirt. his socks don't match the print. navy slacks have inched up to show brightly contrasting argyle. orange and yellow on one. purple and cream on the other. did he get ready in the dark?

the door swinging open grabs his attention. dark monitors and a single row of dimmed lights illuminate him in his little spot. fingers lift and twitch. it's a wave. then he thinks twice, pointed features crinkle in a self-chide. "sorry," his voice is quiet. mannerful. spencer shakes his head and awkward limbs shift every which way as he gets to his feet. there's no motion for a handshake. only fingers lowering to be tucked away inside his pockets. "i'm sure you're just as delighted as everyone else is to see us but i promise? all this? my mess." he didn't touch your stuff is what he's saying. a certain specialist might've warned him against that. a step back in the conversation? oh! yes! that should've happened first.

"i'm doc--," (less formal approach may work better? let's try that.), "just call me spencer." they've got about forty-five minutes before the meeting. let's see how this goes. gaze slides towards the door, lips hang open as he pieces together--he's leading this introduction on his own. "hope my uhm," he looks at the pile and the empty space in the middle, "desk isn't too far in the way. shuffling through some things i thought the lab might find useful." olive branch! sorta like a spencer reid version of we come in peace.

@codemurders; based off.

In the spirit of Sinday, feel free to send 💞 + any dirty questions you may have for them on anon, and they HAVE to answer honestly! (still accepting)

DISCOVERIES!

Nothing helps emotional regulation more than removing the one solace you had that made you feel safe and control. And by help, I mean worsen. To the extreme.

As Dexter enters the room a can opener just barely misses clocking him in the head.

"WHO EVEN USES CAN OPENERS ANYMORE"

The offending can follows shortly after as the frustrated and newly human Katherine navigates having to use kitchen utensils for the first time in her entire life. The doppelganger has come to the conclusion that it's a scam and anyone that doesn't buy the pull tab cans clearly hates her and wants her to starve.

@codemurders ;; nonverbal prompts (still accepting) 93﹕ Dexter gestures for Castiel to sit down

                              SOMETHING WEIRD IS GOING ON IN MIAMI. Because Garth phoned and asked for their help in a strange case near his hometown, the brothers decided to split up for once. Castiel went with Dean because he's his favorite (something that made him flounder and blush when said out loud) and because Sam would have a partner in Garth once he arrived. 

                               Miami is hot and busy. Dean curses about the traffic the entire time and then drops Castiel off at the police station to talk to one of the forensic technicians before driving off to check out the crime scene. (Castiel suspects that, since this Dexter Morgan is known to be aware of the supernatural and to help hunters occasionally, Dean thinks he can't do that much wrong here. Castiel still struggles to fit in; human behavior is like an uncrackable enigma for him.)