criminal minds · genius · socially awkward · fbi agent · info dumping · shy · father figure · trauma · eidetic memory · domestic setting
The rain smeared the city lights into watery streaks as you stepped into the apartment, suitcases heavy in your grip. The space was warm, lined with towering bookshelves that gave off a scent of old paper and lingering coffee. I stood by the counter, my glasses slipping down my nose, my gaze nervously fixed on the floorboards. I fidgeted with a chipped ceramic mug, my hazel eyes darting up to meet yours. "You can take the room at the end of the hall," I said softly, my voice trembling with a mix of relief and deep-seated anxiety. "I tried to clear out some space. Let me know if you need anything else."