Doctor Spencer Reid squinted in the dim light of the darkened theater, scanning the rows of chairs for an open seat. Seats weren't exactly thin on the ground, even in the small gallery of the old theater house, turned second-play cheap seats. Spencer couldn't understand why. He had been holding tickets to see the film for a month, now. Perhaps others just weren't as interested in German expressionism as he was.

He sidled through the narrow lane of chairs to an empty seat in the center of the gallery. Settling himself, albeit somewhat uncomfortably, into one of the faded red velvet covered seats and glancing at his watch, he began the long process of attempting to relax and let the rest of the day go.

Somewhere between the starchy, dry feel of kernels on his fingertips and the melting, crisp taste of popcorn in his mouth, he felt a subtle tap on his shoulder.

"Excuse me?"

Spencer shifted in his seat to see a woman sitting directly behind him. It was hard to see much in the low light emanating from the screen, but he could make out her short hair and nervous smile.

"Hi." She began nervously, "I'm really sorry to bother you, it's just...I came early to get this seat, see, and, well, you're a lot taller than I am. It wouldn't matter, except there isn't staggered or stadium seating, so...would you mind moving over one?"

The words tumbled out in a low whisper, the woman not seeming to realize that Spencer complied, relocating himself one seat to his immediate left before she had finished her request.

"Thanks." She smiled.

"No problem." He ventured a half smile. "Did you – did you really come early to get your seat?"

"Yeah." She nodded, looking down at her hands, embarrassed.

"The movie doesn't start for another ten minutes, and it's almost completely empty in here. What time did you get here?" Spencer furrowed his brow in curiosity, his voice quirking up at the end of his question in baffled amusement.

The woman tilted her head back and forth, shifting her gaze away from him, as though confiding a secret.

"forty-five minutes ago." She met his eyes again. "I was expecting it to be sold out."

"You know, me too," He turned further in his seat, resting his arm on the back of the chair as he continued his thought. "Metropolis is one of the quintessential films in both German Expressionism and Science-Fiction."

"I know!" The stranger's face lit up with excitement. "I've been waiting to see the restored version on the big screen. ever since it first aired in Berlin four years ago! You know, H.G. Wells actually hated it?"

"Yeah, he originally accused it of 'foolishness, cliché, platitude, and muddlement about mechanical progress in general."

Without realizing it, the young doctor was smiling warmly at the woman in the row behind him. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the seat he had previously occupied.

"I'm Avery." She extended a hand to him, which he shook.

"Doctor Spencer Reid."

"Doctor!" She sounded impressed and amused by the introduction. "Well, doctor, any tall friends joining you tonight, or is my view to remain unobstructed?"

"No," Spencer shook his head. "No, just me. What about you?"

"I had an extra ticket, but nobody wanted to come with me."

"They don't know what they're missing." Reid said seriously.

"Tell me about it."

Silence fell between them for only a moment.

"I'm curious." Reid began "Why that seat?"

"Oh, well," Avery held her chin on the heel of her palm, as she cast her eyes up toward the screen. "The best place to sit in a live theatre audience is about two thirds of the way back, directly in the center. The whole show is designed to look absolutely perfect from that spot. So, I figure it's the best place to sit in general. No screen disortion, no tricks from the sound bouncing around. It's the story-viewing sweet spot."

"Oh, I see." Spencer grinned. "So your seat is going to provide a better viewing experience than my seat."

"Well, we'll have to compare notes." Avery laughed. "Or, you know, you could take my word for it and join me back here in the sweet spot."

Spencer glanced down at his seat and the thin cardboard popcorn box in his hand.

"Yeah, okay."

The pavement glowed warmly in the yellow light of old movie house as the handful of moviegoers spilled out the door and onto the sidewalk. Spencer ran his right hand along the diagonal line of his messenger bag across his hip, flattening a curl behind his ear with his free hand. He smiled placidly as he listened to Avery, who walked next to him, talking as she zipped her coat.

"Yeah, I don't know what it is," she was saying, walking briskly to keep up with Spencer's long strides through the theater doors and onto the sidewalk. "I love the movie so much, but the score just never seems right. And I've seen it with a lot of different scores. Now, this one was good, but Loverboy and Adam Ant? Some things should just not happen." She paused. "Am I rambling?"

"Not at all." Reid responded enthusiastically. "I'm just surprised how much of the film they were able to restore. You know, there's a whole organization dedicated to restoring old films? It's to preserve the history of the film art industry."

"I could get behind that."

The pair stood in awkward silence, their figures casting long black shadows against the glowing pavement. Reid took a moment to evaluate the woman standing in front of him. She appeared tall, but only because of the bright red heels she wore. Her hair, which had appeared short in the theater, was buzzed close to the scalp in thick black stubble. She crossed her arms and scuffed the toe of her shoe against the sidewalk, looking down.

"I, um," she began, "I don't suppose you'd want to grab a late bite. There's this Chinese place just down the street. Not much for atmosphere, but the best Baozi in the universe."

Spencer swallowed, opening his mouth and closing it again as his brows furrowed and relaxed in conflicting thought. A buzz from his pocket broke his concentration. He pulled out his cell phone and looked at it.

"Oh," His voice fell slightly. "I have to go."

"Oh." Avery tried to mask the disappointment in her voice by sounding cavalier.

"It's just, it's work." Spencer tried to explain. "I'm an FBI agent for the Behavioral Analysis Unit and the hours are really weird, and -"

"No, it's okay." Avery shook her head and shoved her hands into her coat pockets. "Go ahead. It was nice to meet you."

"You, too."

There was a moment of awkward silence as the two stood looking at each other, Avery seeming to be waiting for something.

"Bye." Spencer said at length, venturing a half-wave as he turned and walked down the street.