miami, florida 5:36am;
miami metro police department is pissed. ruining the day of an entire department full of officers and detectives is often as easy as a group of people coming through the elevators clad in suits (most of them) carrying badges reading the brilliant, bold blue dreaded three letters across the laminate. F B I. the BAU agents walking damn near hip to hip are used to the groans. grown accustomed to the glares. understanding smiles greet the frustration with a patience that usually only serves to piss off the officers to a higher degree.
rarely, their help is greeted with gratitude and relief. normally. that's not the case. today was no exception.
the call to captain thomas matthews informing their arrival buzzed the way to a spoiled mood only thirty minutes prior to their plane touching down. most of the office? held only the night crew when their rented s.u.v.s showed up in the parking lot and aaron hotchner and his companions made their way inside. a frazzled but all politically plastic smiles lieutenant maria laguerta took the call to meet them. a sea of eyeball rolls danced after their backs thick as the flotsam licking the south beach shores as the tide rolled back and the florida dawn cracked through the hanging blinds.
time for everyone to get to work.
detectives begin to fill in for the day. there's already a commotion and buzz about the feds busting in on their investigation of the bay harbor butcher. vince masuka meets dexter at ding! dastardly evil little chuckle says he's enjoying watching laguerta play suck up while knowing she's fucking pisssssed. one palm blocks the lip readers from the rushed whisper of, 'duuuuude. the feds are here and boss lady's doing everything she can so that vein in her forehead doesn't go crazy. this is getting GOOD.'
