#favdream

“uh -- hey.” stan’s nervous, he’s anxiously flexing his fingers before he crams his hands in his pockets to hide his nerves. ( she could probably hear his heart pounding if she got close enough, but thankfully he’s standing a few feet away ). she might catch the sweat on his forehead or the heavy breath, but god forbid she see him stimming. “you’re uhm -- addison, right?” he inhales a little and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans before he sticks out a too straight arm, reaching out for a shake. “stanley barber. we’re in uhm... bio together?”

It’s raining. He hadn’t even noticed until he stood up and away from the engraved stone and saw the discolored splotches of water paint its surface. A pretty gravestone, not very old.. and yet looked more aged than it really should. There’s a deep scar across the name, making it hard to read. How was someone to know who rested here if they could not see their name? 

          ❝ Is that okay? ❞ He asks no one really. Or so, it would most certainly appear like no one, but himself standing in an empty graveyard in the middle of the night. Rested before the stone now laid what looked like a pendant.. or no, perhaps a pocket watch considering its size. For a moment, he wondered if he should maybe bury the item in a shallow hole by the grave or... if that might seem a little too suspicious. Nevermind, he thinks to himself. Spindly fingers reach to brush lightly against the top of the stone.

The papers have been littered with more headlines of defeat than he cares to admit. It’s not often he’s pulled from a case and plunged into another. His skills are more the long game than the short. But a good pair of eyes is all the Bureau can think to throw into the mix anymore. All other attempts met with failure upon failure upon failure. (And when you’re at the end of your options, you bring in the gambits you can get rid of quickly.)

Being this close to the school isn’t his first choice. But rumors in the underground suggest some distant connection. Perhaps the killer has a child here. Perhaps there’s something hidden on the grounds. He doesn’t know. So he smokes in the alley, out of sight, watching and observing. Not realizing how he’s watching her until eyes are on him.