~ VM33~

Gwyn knocked on the slightly ajar door before peering in. The office was dark, and dank, shadows creeping in from every corner, as if trying to swallow the room completely. A large desk in the corner was piled high with papers, memos, manila folders, and gods know what other detritus. 

“Hello?” Gwyn stepped further into the room. “Agent Singer?” 

As she rounded the door, she spied a tall figure in the corner, digging through a filing cabinet. 

“Agent Singer?”

He turned. His eyes scanned her up and down before he leaned casually back against the filing cabinet he was just rifling through. 

“Who’s asking?” He asked in a deep, smooth voice, an instantly infuriating smirk tilting the left side of his mouth up. 

Gwyn straightened her spine and strode towards him. “Agent Berdara. I was sent down here by the Assistant Director to be your new partner.” 

She stuck her hand out to him, chin tilted up in a show of authority. His eyes slid from her face down to her hand and he slowly lifted his hand to slide into hers. Her eyes briefly glanced down to the extensive scars mottled across his hand, skipping back up to his face almost immediately. Her medical training catalogued the injury quickly. 

Third degree burns. Fire. Potentially hot oil. Old, most likely from childhood or adolescence. 

He smiled, his eyes lighting mischievously. 

“Ah, to be my new partner, huh? Not sent down here to babysit me? To disprove all my work?”

Gwyn crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow and looking around at the aforementioned “work”. 

“Welcome to the X Files, Berdara,” he said with a sweeping gesture around the room before moving to the desk to sit down. He pulled on a pair of wire rimmed glasses, which succeeded in giving a decently large, potentially intimidating man a bookish, boyish look. 

Gwyn pursed her lips, eyes skimming over him as his skimmed across the disaster zone that was his desk. He was tall, broad. Dark hair, light brown eyes, tattoos sliding across his forearms, exposed by his rolled up sleeves. No wedding ring. He was…striking seemed to be the best word for it. 

Catalogue complete, her eyes came back to his face. He was already looking at her,  that smirk there again. She cleared her throat, her tongue poking into her cheek as she looked away. 

“Agent Berdara,” he said slowly, eyes skimming down her (smart, if she said so herself) pantsuit, and back up. “Or should I say, Dr. Berdara?” 

She lifted her chin minutely, not letting the surprise that he knew anything about her show on her face. 

“Dr. Gwyneth Berdara, top of her class at Quantico. Top of her class at Harvard Medical School. Authored and co-authored several research articles, including two about up and coming cancer treatments.” 

Gwyn admitted to herself that she was impressed. 

“And you’re Agent Azriel Singer. Top of your class at Quantico. Top of your class at Oxford. Considered a genius at criminal profiling.” She paused. 

He smiled slightly, a dimple creasing his left side. “Go ahead. Say it.” 

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Known as ‘Spooky’ Singer around the Bureau.” 

He stood from his desk, taking a step closer. He towered over her, closer than normal social cues would allow. 

“Do you think I’m ‘Spooky’?” He asked, deep voice smooth and teasing. His eyes twinkled as if they were in on a joke together as he gazed down at her, his teeth digging into his lower lip slightly. 

They stood in silence for a moment longer, staring each other down. 

“So, what are you working on, Agent Singer?” 

Maintaining that disconcerting smirk, he leaned back on his desk before passing her a manila folder. She glanced down at it, a large red CONFIDENTIAL stamp across the front and the scribbled X File beneath it. Taking a deep breath, she opened it up. 

“It’s your classic alien abduction.”