Spencer

Lilith was crying of laughter as she saw the doctor struggling with his chopsticks. She wiped away a tear, and asked,

"Do you not know how to use them?"

"Don't judge me! I have an IQ of 187 and I still have no clue how to work with these things." He pouted, repressing a laugh.

Lilith softly chuckled.

"I'm not judging you, everybody needs to learn. Look, hold them like this..."

She placed a chopstick between her index and her thumb, and the other one between her thumb and her middle finger.

"So, you use this finger to action the chop- no, not like that..."

The young woman chuckled at Spencer's struggle, and approached him in the booth, so that she was next to him.

"Look..."

Lilith looked at him before touching his hand, as if she was waiting for his approval. He nodded, and she took his finger to place it at the right spot on the wooden stick.

Somehow, Spencer wasn't uncomfortable. He usually didn't appreciate coming in contact with other people, but there was something special about the softness of her touches or her patience. Lilith was never rough, and considerate about Spencer's repulsion to touch.

Seeing that he was a lost cause with chopsticks, he started saying,

"Chopsticks are usually wooden in countries of eastern Asia, such as Japan or China. One of the exceptions is South Korea, where the chopsticks are made of metal. This is actually more environmentally friendly, as around 1 billion disposable wooden chopsticks are thrashed every year in China alone."

"Are you trying to distract me from the fact that you can't use chopsticks?" Lilith grinned.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, I tend to ramble when I'm nervous."

"I like it."

"What?"

"I like it when you ramble. What you say is interesting."

Spencer felt his face burn. Nobody usually appreciated it when he spouted facts. She probably sensed his nervousness, as she changed the subject.

"Why did you decide to become a profiler? You're quite smart, so you'd be an asset in any field of work."

"It's a weird story, actually..." he paused, and saw that she was listening attentively. "Well, when I was a kid, there was a murder of a little boy in my neighbourhood. I was around 3 or 4. That case was never closed, and I think that, subconsciously, I developed a strong sense of justice because of that. Maybe all I wanted was justice for Riley."

"Riley... so that was his name. And did he ever get any justice?" She asked.

"Yeah, a few years ago I went to Vegas and cracked the case with my team. It really helped get some weight off my shoulder. But after that, I still wanted to stay in the BAU, so maybe being a profiler really was my calling."

"I believe it was. You work so hard, and you're so focused... maybe that was your destiny."

Spencer considered this.

"And you? Why did you choose to become a medical examiner? It seems quite specific."

"My parents own a funeral home. When I was a kid, if I was good at school, they'd let me help with the bodies. I know, not very ethical. But there was always something bothering me. We were always given the corpses, and that was it. We were never told how or why they died, who or what killed them. We just prepared the corpse for the funeral and sent it away. I only knew their names. Ever since, I've always wanted to know the truth behind every name." She paused. "I'm sorry, it probably sounds stupid."

"No, it doesn't. You seem like a very curious person to me, and that's great." Spencer smiled at her.

"Are you profiling me?" She smirked.

"Maybe. I could actually give you a full profile of yourself, if you want me to."

"That sounds terrifying. Go ahead."

"Well, first of all, from appearance, you're probably a geek, like me. Star wars, Star trek, all that stuff. You are probably from South Korea, as you flinched when I mentioned South Korea in particular. You could also be Japanese, as you also had an interesting reaction when I gave out facts about it. I also hear a slight accent in your speech. Not American, no, European, yes. Perhaps Germany, or France? France, probably, since you speak French. You've lived in America all your life, so the influence is from your parents. If I had to make an educated guess, your father is French and your mother is Japanese, since statistically most Asian-Caucasian marriages happen between an Asian wife and a European husband.

"Wrong, my good sir. Some correct judgements, but your guesses are flawed." She smirked.

"Where did I go wrong?"

"Well, you assumed I'd fit into the statistics. My mother is French, and my dad is South-Korean and Japanese."

"Park. Of course. How could I not think of your family name?" He mentally scowled himself.

"Also, I've never seen Star Trek."

Spencer quickly turned his face, shocked.

"W-what? Impossible. We need to fix this."

They laughed together. Reid was surprised at his sudden use of "we".

"Now let me try and profile you."

Spencer stood still in the booth. "Okay."

"You can't sleep at night. You have migraines, and they constantly perturb you. That's why you sometimes wear glasses, even indoors and drink tons of coffee. You're originally from Vegas, you're good at card games and you only swear by statistics. Your father was absent very often, and you only found refuge in your books as well as taking care of your mother."

"How did you know about my father?"

She gave him a mysterious look.

"Just a feeling, I guess."

Lilith

After some hours of talking and laughing, she asked,

"Spencer, I know that I shouldn't ask this, but it really has been killing me. Did you guys close the case?" She asked, practically whispering.

"No. We did a handwriting analysis of the notes, but we don't have any other clue on how to move on with the case."

"And what did the handwriting analysis tell you?"

"Well, that he is a man who loves power and control. He clearly thinks he is above us. It kind of feels like he sees himself as a God."

Lilith had her last mouthful of noodles, and said jokingly,

"Sounds like a cult leader to me."

Spencer's face lit up, as if hit with some realisation.

"Of course, a cult." He muttered, almost to himself. He stood up from his chair, took out a few bills to pay for the food, and threw his messenger bag onto his shoulder. "This was a lot of fun, Lilith, and I'd like to hang around, but I think my duty calls. I'm sorry."

"It's fine! Go, my valiant knight!"

They smiled, and he started to walk away as Lilith said,

"Wait, though. How will I be able to call you?"

"Open your fortune cookie."

She cracked open the biscuit, and inside was a tiny piece of paper. She unrolled it, and, in minuscule handwriting, were a few words.

"Did you seriously write your number in phonetic alphabet?" She laughed.

"Yup. Have fun decoding it!"

He smirked, turned around, and quickly walked out the door.