Will first learns of Alana Bloom by reading one of her articles. He's impressed by her insight and concise prose. He forgets about the article in a few days. It's not relevant to his current case load.
He her name for the first time when he's informed that she will be guest lecturing in one of his classes that week. She's an important consultant for the FBI, the Guru's favourite; he's just the new teacher. He doesn't get a choice.
She sends him an email, asking what topics would be suited to his class. She's polite and amicable, apologising for the imposition. He replies with a list of topics he was going to cover himself.
The next day a printed copy of a lecture outline is left on his desk with a neatly handwritten note asking for his approval. She signs the note with a flourish. He emails her a cut yes after reading through it. It's a different approach to aggression than he would have chosen but it's an elegant one and perhaps more useful to the FBI trainees he's supposed to be teaching.
He has a free hour because of her lecture. He doesn't plan to attend the lecture but ends up loitering in the shadows near the doorway. She knows her material well. She invites and answers questions with a grace he envies. He watches her move across the lecture platform as though she was completely comfortable with 100 people staring at her. The clack of her high heels is hypnotic, commanding attention to her. He thinks that's her intent. Will leaves before the lecture finishes.
Two months later, she sends him an email asking him if he wants a guest lecture in three weeks. He knows that he has no choice but the polite veneer of choice is better than no choice, he thinks. He's not sure. And he enjoys the look of shock on the Dean of Academic's face when Will tells him that's already organised the lecture with her. No one expects him to do anything but talk at the floor in front of roomfuls of trainees.
She lectures on empathy and psychopathy. He abhors that topic. He appreciates her approach. She compares the two to the sun and moon, to yin and yang, explaining that one highlights the strengths and weakness of the other. He stays to the end of the lecture.
He meets for the first time the next day. She's sitting at the back of the Quantico cafeteria, cup of coffee in hand. It's early enough that the mid-morning coffee rush hasn't started. He hesitates for a moment. Everyone tells him that he must be more social. He's got to learn in order to function, to be polite. Introducing himself to a colleague who seemed to have a minor time share in one of his classes would be a place start, he tells himself.
"Hi."
She looks up, expression surprised but open. "Hi yourself." She's not alarmed by him, he can tell. She doesn't startle. It's almost like she expected him.
"I'm Will Graham." He thinks it's redundant but he says it anyway because that's what people do.
"Alana Bloom." She waves a hand at the seat opposite her. "I appear to have stolen your class."
He sits. "Not on a permanent basis, I hope." He was technically on still on his probationary period but those things were almost always a technicality.
"I'm sorry. It should be the last for a while." She looks down sheepishly, like she doesn't like that she's intruded on his classes.
"Your lecture on psychopathy was interesting." He chooses his words carefully. She obviously knew who he was. He wants to see how much she knew. "I haven't heard many people use a cost and benefit analysis for it before. Or put it on a continuum with empathy."
Alana shrugs. "You know, positive psychology and all that. Every cloud has a silver lining according to that perspective. Of course, those people probably haven't been stuck in a thunderstorm before." She closes her eyes and shakes her head. "I shouldn't say things like that." She opens her eyes.
"Because I'm stuck under the proverbial thunderstorm?" He watches her reactions closely. He'll judge her by how she answers him.
"Because," She picks up her coffee cup. "It's impolite to ridicule an emerging perspective because I disagree with metaphors." She looks him in the eyes. He looks away. "Unless you want to talk about-"
"I don't."
"Then we won't." She sips her coffee, leaving him to choose the next topic of conversation.
"Just like that? I thought all you psychiatrists love people like me." Most of them look at him like he belonged in a laboratory to be their ticket to a Nobel Prize. He hates it.
"Just like that. You're a colleague, Will, and quite possibly a friend. I don't push friends if they don't want to talk."
He leans back in the chair, deciding that she's being honest with him. "Do you like Georgetown?"