Speculation came with the territory when one worked with a group of extremely guarded profilers, and Emily had done a significant amount of speculating about the personal lives of her team mates since joining.
Of all of them, Reid had struck her as the greatest mystery, everyone else told stories of their outside activities, without offering up too much of course, but the only thing she ever managed to get out of Reid was when he didn't have plans.
Of all of them, Derek Morgan had seemed the easiest to figure out. Player, but sweet. Cleary into exercising and athletics. Then she'd found out his love of Vonnegut rivalled her own, and she'd allowed herself to be intruiged. Maybe he wasn't the socially open book she thought he was.
Then he'd told her about his properties, how he'd buy houses, build them up and sell them off solely for the purpose of feeling like he was changing something, and she'd been entranced. She didn't know why, but she was drawn to the idea of peeling back the many layers of show and misdirection the man put up and seeing the real person behind it all. It seemed he was full of surprises.
Here and now, however, she'd never been more surprised in her life. They were working on a case and had managed to score a pretty decent hotel, even with a full lounge and piano. Morgan was sat at that piano right now and his fingers were moving over the keys with such effortless grace that it seemed impossible for him to be creating such beautiful music with such minor movements. But, as surprising and amazing as his skills were, his voice was beyond imagination.
He was singing a Ray Charles song, 'Drowning In My Own Tears', and his deep voice washed over her like a wave. She was enraptured, enticed, as though under some kind of spell. Her eyes traced the movement of his muscles as they moved beneath the tight T-shirt, and she found herself biting her lip. She couldn't believe she was actually getting turned on hearing Morgan sing. But the melody and the movements worked together to create the image of something so beyond what Morgan made himself out to be.
'That's the point, that's exactly what he wants. To be misconceived.'
He approached the bridge and his voice rose in tempo and volume, the echo of it feeling as though it had penetrated her chest and caused her heart to speed up. Her lip quirked into a small smirk as she wondered what Morgan would think of her mentally likening him to a siren in this situation. Because just like the doomed sailors of ages past, she had no doubt she'd risk her life to find the source of that voice.
As the song came to an end, Emily suddenly found the silence very saddening. Morgan's magical abilities had made it so a world without his melodic voice was an empty one and she silently cursed him. When Morgan made to turn, Emily decided not to tell Morgan about her hearing him yet. He clearly didn't want anyone to know and she didn't want to embarrass him. So, creeping from her hiding spot by the door, she rushed upstairs and into her room. She rested heavily against the door and took deep, calming breaths. Once again, Emily found herself cursing Derek Morgan for what would doubtlessly prove to a very introspective night as she contemplated what kind of feelings she must have for Morgan to be this effected by something so simple as singing.