✓ | sick of losing soulmates [SPENCER REID]

2.3

2.3
( maggie. )

☆ ★ ☆

spencer

"You're staring, Spencer, honey."

He jumps, whipping his head around. He's greeted by the sight of a smiling Lila, her cheeks sparkling in the warm light of her kitchen due to the powder she's dusted her skin with, and her body adorned in a tight red dress. Spencer, somewhat stupidly, notices that it really brings out the blue of her eyes and the blonde in her hair. A blue bikini strap snakes out from beneath the dress, curling around the back of her neck to be tied in a bow beneath all her hair.

"I — I — Lila! Hey," he greets awkwardly.

She nods, still smiling and looking as wonderful as ever. "That's my name. Don't wear it out." She slips up, into the stool Iris had previously occupied, and Spencer watches wordlessly as she slides his glass across the table and toward her. "Is this yours?"

He nods.

Without hesitating, she sips from the half-empty glass, glittering blue eyes flicking up to hold his stare as she does so. Spencer swallows.

"So," she begins, leaning forward on the table with her elbows. "You like Iris."

"Oh my God, no," Spencer instantly shuts down that idea, forcing a laugh as he does so, but it only sounds like a loud exhale and little more than that. "We're just friends."

She flicks her eyebrows up and down. "Sure," she drawls playfully. "But you're in LA, Spencer. You're in LA together, and — "

"Well, no, actually," he interrupts, "I'm on a case, and she's graduated from the FBI, and we just — we happened to run into each other, that's all."

"Fate," is all Lila says, only half-joking. She traces her finger, adorned in a glittering red plastic nail to match her dress, along the rim of the glass — well, Spencer's glass — and he notices the print her lipstick has left. "So, tell me about the case."

Spencer clears his throat. In his semi-drunken state, the idea that all of these details are confidential doesn't occur to him. "Murders of celebrities," he states simply. "Gruesome, too. We made the assumption that they were some kind of assassinations — like a political message, you know. Similar to the UNA-bomber. But it's become clear that they're actually crimes of passion, judging by the crime scenes and murder weapon — "

Lila sputters out a laugh, interrupting Spencer's rapid speech. "God, I'm sorry I ever asked."

Spencer presses his lips together in a small, embarrassed smile and doesn't say anything else.