Author's Note: Glad to hear so many of you missed this one! I always like this world too, so it's good to be taking a stroll back through it again.

And the weeks listed are tracking the pregnancy.

Week 4

A Crash Course in Polite Conversation

It was in the middle of the morning briefing when Hotch glanced over to see Emily blinking repeatedly and rubbing her hand over her mouth to hide a yawn.

His brow wrinkled . . . she looked exhausted. And it was a bit too early in her pregnancy for her to be that tired at 10:15 in the morning.

He was a little concerned.

But also he knew that this was the worst possible time for him to ask her if she was okay . . . the entire team was in the room . . . so he kept his mouth shut for the time being.

That didn't stop him though from shooting the occasional glance over to her for the rest of the meeting. But then he noticed that Rossi was doing the same thing.

Damn.

And that's when he realized it was going to be hard for Emily to keep this pregnancy from Dave. For God's sake, by the end of his first day back to the BAU, the man had already figured out that Hotch was separated!

Dave Rossi wasn't someone from whom you could keep secrets.

And thinking about that point, Hotch's brow wrinkled . . . maybe he could convince Emily to bring Dave into the pregnancy loop too. Not now of course. Not when he'd seen how hard it had been for her to come just to him. The poor woman certainly wasn't ready to have yet another member of the team knowing all of the intimate details of her personal life.

She'd be humiliated.

But maybe in another month or so. After she'd adjusted to the situation. And really, even Eagle Eyed Dave wouldn't be able to figure out she was pregnant that quickly.

Still, Hotch watched with a touch of worry when he saw that eagle eye linger after the meeting to ask Emily if she was feeling okay. Fortunately by then the others were already on their way out the room. Garcia was digging into her bag, muttering about a missing lip gloss, and Morgan and JJ were explaining to Reid how March Madness worked.

Which meant that none of them were paying any attention to Dave or his question to Emily.

And as he pulled his files together, Hotch himself very studiously made a point of also ignoring Dave and Emily. But out of the corner of his eye, he still saw Emily plastering on a bright smile, and a split second later came the false cheer.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just had a leaky faucet that kept me up last night."

Dave's eyes crinkled slightly as he patted Emily on the shoulder.

"Okay, just making sure that you were all right." Then he projected his voice to the side, "you should make Hotch buy you a cup of coffee."

Rossi was always looking for excuses to get the two of them to spend time together. Hotch had been divorced for going on four months now, and Emily had FINALLY broken up with that asshole she'd been dating since New Year's. So now that they were both unattached, Dave was unabashedly playing matchmaker.

Very simply, he thought that Hotch and Emily would make a good couple.

Actually he'd come to that conclusion on about his third day back in the BAU. But at the time, Hotch had just gotten separated, so Dave clearly wasn't going to try and nudge them into doing anything back then. On the off chance that Hotch had actually put his marriage back together, that would have been disastrous for not only the two of them, but the team as well.

But . . . as Dave had expected . . . Hotch's marriage had been beyond repair. And he'd never really cared for Haley, so beyond his sympathy for Hotch's situation with his son, Dave hadn't been too sorry to see that relationship fall apart. He'd always believed that there was a woman out there better suited to somebody of Hotch's interests and temperament.

And he was pretty sure that woman was in the room.

And he had seen Hotch eyeing Emily during the meeting. Then of course him pretending not to be listening in to their conversation.

Like it took anyone that long to pull together FOUR pieces of paper! Please.

And his theory about Hotch's interest in the conversation was confirmed, when the man himself shot a nasty glare in Dave's very specific direction. Dave's lip quirked up.

Gotcha.

After Hotch had finished with his ocular equivalent of flipping off Dave, he quickly softened his expression as he shifted his gaze over to Emily.

"Actually Prentiss, I was about to go get some coffee. Do you want to take a walk?"

As soon as Dave had said coffee, Hotch had had an inkling of what the problem might be. So now he definitely wanted to talk to Emily.

"Yeah," Emily gave Hotch a weary nod, "some fresh air would probably help."

It was forty degrees outside, hopefully that would wake her up.

While he waited for Emily to pick up her paperwork, Hotch made a point of ignoring Rossi's smirk as he slipped by them . . . pain in the ass . . . but he also couldn't help but note that she was definitely moving a little slower than usual. But once she was ready, and after they'd dropped off their files at their respective desks, and had grabbed their coats from their respective hooks, they headed out to the elevator.

It took a few more minutes from there to get out of the building, so it wasn't until they'd stepped through the glass doors in the front, and out until the grey March weather, that they were completely alone. That's when Hotch looked down at her knowingly.

"You gave up coffee, didn't you?"

Emily gave him back a sad nod.

"Yeah, two days sober," then her lips twisted in a faint pout, "it's honestly killing me, Hotch. I was already starting to feel a little run down just adjusting to the pregnancy, and now I have no energy at all." She shook her head. "I just don't know what to do. I went to bed at nine o'clock last night because I thought maybe if I could just sleep enough it would get better. But apparently this pregnancy thing doesn't work like that. You can't just," she scowled, "stock up on sleep."

Though Hotch genuinely felt badly for Emily's predicament, his lips twitched twice during her tirade. Once when the pout appeared, and then again when the scowl did.

The woman always was quite animated, no matter the topic.

But as they walked along and out of the front gate, he looked down at her with a faint furrow in his brow.

"Did the doctor actually tell you to go cold turkey, or did you just decide to do that?"

She sighed.

"The book said that you should cut out caffeine if you wanted a healthy baby," then she sighed again, "and obviously I do want a healthy baby, so I cut out my caffeine. I just didn't know it would be this hard."

It wasn't like she had been a complete caffeine addict before. Really she'd probably only drank three or four cups a day. And by the standards of her office, that was nothing! That was why she'd thought it wouldn't be so bad when she stopped. But she'd had a throbbing headache for almost two days straight, and she just felt like complete crap, and she didn't know if that was the pregnancy or the withdrawal. She huffed to herself.

Probably both.

As soon as he heard Emily's explanation for the decision to go cold turkey, Hotch rolled his eyes.

'The book said . . .' that was a phrase which he had become familiar with during Haley's pregnancy. But half of the stuff that "the book said," was crap. And he knew this because every time Haley had mentioned something that sounded particularly ridiculous, he had told her to double-check it with her doctor. And sure enough, probably eight times out of ten, the book was either giving flat out wrong information, or over exaggerating the benefits or risks of a particular item or issue.

And fortunately for Emily, coffee was one of the book issues that Hotch was intimately acquainted with. Because his ex-wife had also tried to go cold turkey in her caffeine abstinence.

Their marriage had almost ended before Jack was even born.

Fortunately though, Hotch had done his own research, and then confirmed his conclusions with her doctor. So he knew . . . on this particular issue . . . the book was absolute crap.

Which was why he gave Emily's elbow a gentle bump, and when she looked up at him, his lip quirked up.

"I have good news for you."

Her eyes widened slightly.

"Oh?"

They'd just reached the front entrance to the Starbucks down the street, and Hotch paused for a second before opening the door.

"You can still drink coffee and have a healthy baby," he nodded firmly, "I promise."

Seeing Emily about to protest, he shook his head with a note of scorn.

"No, trust me, 'the book' is not always right. Remember, I just went through this a couple years ago. And I swear to you that you can have caffeine," he tipped his head, "yes, you do have to cut back, but you don't have to cut it out completely unless your doctor actually tells you to."

"Really," Emily looked up hopefully, "it won't hurt the baby?"

"Nope," Hotch shook his head as he finally pulled open the door, "the baby will be fine."

Then he stepped back to let her go in front of him as he continued on, "and I know this because Hayley did the same thing that you did. She stopped completely right at the beginning, and then found out after we'd talked to her doctor, that she didn't have to." Now granted," he tipped his head as they walked up to the counter, "much, much later, in her eighth month, she did have to give it up completely, but that was just her particular situation and more related to issues with her blood pressure."

Though they were now publicly discussing Emily's not to be discussed pregnancy, Hotch wasn't concerned about anyone overhearing their conversation. It was mid-morning, so the normally busy coffee shop was totally empty except for one old man reading a newspaper off in the corner. And he looked to be about eighty, so Hotch was quite sure that he didn't work at the Bureau.

At least not currently.

Emily chewed her lip as she looked up at Hotch . . . they'd just reached the counter.

"Well, then how much can I drink?"

Given her implicit trust in this man, she knew that he wouldn't give her bad information. Then she gave a mental eye roll . . . which was apparently what she was getting from the stupid book.

As he stared up at the menu board Hotch tapped his fingers on the faux wood laminate.

"You can have up to one cup a day," he answered after a moment, "which I do know is considerably less than what you're used to," he looked down at her, "so your body will still need to adjust, but it'll at least stop the headaches."

Her eyes popped out.

"You know about the headaches?"

"Yeah," he huffed, "I had to give up coffee once for a full week before I had some blood work," then he rolled his eyes, "not doing that again."

His eyes shot back up at the board and then back down at her.

"I'd suggest having a small half caf in the morning, and one again in the afternoon. That way you'll keep a little bit of caffeine in your system all day, but you still won't go over the one cup rule."

Seeing the barista coming out of the back, Emily gave Hotch a quick nod.

"Okay, yeah, that sounds good," then she gave him a bright smile, "thanks Hotch. I really appreciate the info."

This was great! Because she hadn't been sure how she was going to get through the next eight months with no beer or coffee. Still no beer of course, but at least she could have a little bit of coffee.

That made the other restriction much more tolerable.

Seeing Emily smile, Hotch's eyes crinkled faintly.

She was so pretty when she smiled. Well, she was always pretty of course. That was an empirical statement of fact . . . Emily Prentiss was a very attractive woman. But when she smiled, when she was happy, her whole face lit up. And he'd usually find himself involuntarily smiling back.

Like now.

Sometimes that was annoying, but at the moment he didn't mind so much because it was just the two of them there. He had a reputation as a man with a cranky demeanor and a dour disposition, so he couldn't start just randomly smiling for no reason.

People would get the wrong idea.

After Emily had put in her coffee order, she stepped to the side while Hotch put in his as well. Then she started to pull out her card to pay for both of them, but he insisted on paying instead, muttering something to himself about Rossi that she didn't quite understand. But it was only a two dollar cup of coffee so she didn't fight him.

She'd get it next time.

Two minutes later, after the girl had put their coffees down on the counter, Hotch looked down at Emily, and then tipped his head towards the back of the shop.

"Let's sit for a minute."

When she'd left his office the other day, he had decided to take a more active role in her life, give her an ear to bend on occasion, and they had a few free minutes this morning. And God knew when that would happen again, so they might as well take advantage.

As they headed over to the far corner, Emily knew that Hotch would need to watch the front and side doors, so she let him take the seat against the wall. And of course she trusted him implicitly to watch her back, so she was fine with being mostly blind to the room.

After they were settled at the table though, an awkward silence settled in.

They didn't usually go out to just talk. Well, they did occasionally come here to get coffee and talk about a case, but they'd never sat down here for a personal conversation. But she was just BUSTING to talk about the stuff that she'd learned this week at the doctor's!

The problem was, she didn't know if he'd really be interested in hearing about it.

But then finally Hotch broke the silence with a question.

"Do you have a due date yet?"

Since they'd sat down, he'd been racking his brain trying to decide where to begin. And then he figured that was a nice, neutral, opening. As her boss, it was information that he'd need to know. But it also set the tone for at least showing that he was interested in what was going on with the pregnancy.

Her face lit up.

"I do! November 4th," she grinned, "my baby has a birthday!"

Thank God he had started!

Hotch chuckled at her enthusiasm.

"Well, not necessarily. You know that's an estimated date. You'll probably go a little earlier or a little later."

Her eyes crinkled. "I know but it still feels more real now. It's a real person with a real birthday."

Her hand started to fall to her stomach to emphasize the point, but then remembered she needed to stop doing that, and immediately curled her fingers as she yanked them away.

The odd behavior of course didn't escape Hotch's notice. Because he immediately put down his cup and looked over with a furrow in his brow.

"What's wrong?"

She rolled her eyes.

"I keep touching my stomach," she said softly, "and I need to stop, before people start noticing."

"Well," he frowned, "it's just us here now, so feel free to touch anything you want."

It wasn't until he saw Emily's mouth quivering, that Hotch realized what he'd jut said. So he added with a quirk of his lip, "within reason of course."

Emily couldn't stop the snort giggle that slipped out. And although she immediately slapped her hand over her mouth, it was too late. Hotch's eyes had already widened as his brow rose in amusement.

"I'm sorry Agent Prentiss, but was that a giggle?"

"No," she rubbed her hand across her mouth as she cleared her throat, "no, I'm sure that you're mistaken about that, sir."

Real good Em! This is like the first time you've had a casual personal conversation with Hotch. How about you don't come off looking like a spaz?

It was clear from the slight color in her cheeks that she was embarrassed so Hotch decided not to tease her about it any further. So his eyes dropped down again and he tried to think of something else to ask her.

But nothing else was coming to mind.

He took a sip of coffee . . . it really shouldn't be so hard to MAKE normal, polite, conversation. But unfortunately it was for him, because he never did it anymore.

All he ever talked about was work.

So he was probably coming off right now as completely lame, or totally uninterested in her life. Though it pained him to admit it, he was almost hoping for lame. Because that way at least he wouldn't be scaring her off. Of course he knew that his demeanor could be a little off-putting at times, but he wanted her to feel genuinely comfortable talking to him about her situation.

He just had no idea how to loosen up enough to do that.

The longer the silence went on, the more uncomfortable Emily was feeling.

Maybe she had acted too much like a spaz and now he didn't want to delve into anything else lest she start giggling like an idiot again. In the meantime, she decided to take a sip of her precious coffee.

It had been sitting there since they'd gotten to the table because she'd been too nervous to drink when they'd first sat down. But now drinking was just something to do.

Of course with her luck being what it was though, the girl hadn't put the cover on tightly. A point discovered when she picked up the cup, started to tip it . . . and the lid popped off.

Hot coffee poured out all over her hand.

Hotch jumped as Emily suddenly, simultaneously yelped and dropped her cup. Then she clutched her hand to her chest and started swearing under her breath.

He immediately reached over the table.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly, "let me see."

With her eyes now watering in pain, Emily extended her arm while muttering an embarrassed, "it's not that bad. I'm just stupid."

As he gently cradling her hand in his palm, Hotch looked up at her in astonishment.

"Prentiss, the cover came off. That's not your fault."

When he turned her hand over, he saw her knuckles were dark pink. He winced slightly in sympathy . . . that must sting like a bastard. But fortunately the skin didn't appear to be blistering. Really, it was lucky she'd left the cup on the table for a few minutes or the burn would have been much worse.

He looked up at her.

"I'll go get some ice," he looked down at the puddle on the table from the spilled cup, "and some napkins."

With Hotch hurrying back down to the counter, Emily sat there mentally cursing her luck.

Granted, he was right, this one wasn't actually her fault, but it certainly didn't help her internal, 'don't be a spaz' argument, to dump a cup of coffee all over herself. Then she closed her eyes and tried to wish the pain in her hand away.

It wasn't a serious burn, but it was sore as hell.

Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she tensed up for a moment, ready to reach back and flip whoever it was over the table . . . but then she realized it was Hotch.

When she turned to look at him, he crouched down next to her, took her hand into his, and carefully wrapped it up in the ice pack the girl had given him.

Realizing that this was his best opportunity to clear the tension and start from scratch, Hotch brushed his thumb over Emily's arm as he asked softly, "does it hurt?"

She shrugged, responding back in the same tone, "a little bit, but it's not that bad."

Then they stared at each other for a moment before Hotch let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry about how badly this is going, Emily. I'm just not very good at being," he rolled his eyes, "nice."

Though he'd thought that would clear the air . . . and expose him for the social clod that he was . . . he could see from the twist of pain on her face that somehow he'd hurt her feelings. He felt a dig in his gut.

Damn it.

Biting her lip, Emily looked down at Hotch as she whispered.

"So you didn't really want to hear about the baby? You only asked me out for coffee to be nice?"

God, now she felt like a fool. He didn't really want to hear about her life. He didn't want to be her friend.

He was only being polite.

Of course, she should have known that. Hotch was from the south. He was a gentleman, he always polite. And really, why would he want to get involved in the mess she was living in right now? He had his own problems, everyone did. So who would want to take on hers as well? So she might as well get used to the idea that she really was all alone in this.

Just like she'd thought she'd be.

Trying to head off the hormone induced tears she could feel burning . . . and they were royally PISSING her off(!) . . . she quickly averted her gaze from his. Looking over instead at the coffee spill in the middle of the table, thinking that she should clean it up.

But she just left it there.

Another few seconds passed and then she felt Hotch rub her calf as he whispered, "Prentiss, please look at me."

Swallowing hard, she stared at the beige tabletop for another beat before her gaze finally shifted over to his.

Hotch winced when he saw that her eyes were moist . . . shit.

He leaned forward slightly.

"I'm sorry," he said with a sad smile, "I am. That didn't come out right at all. I do want to hear about the baby, really. My offer to talk was sincere, and that is why I asked you out for coffee today."

Seeing the tears now pooling even as she tried to blink them away, he patted her thigh.

"And I'm not trying to make you cry, because I know you hate that. I just want you to remember as we go into this, that I have a divorce decree which proves how much I, as you would say, suck, at inter-personal relationships with women,"

Seeing Emily's lips start to twitch, his eyes crinkled.

"So basically," he continued softly, "no matter how many awkward silences we have to sit through because I do suck at this, please remember that is on me, not you. Because I do genuinely care about what's happening with you, and I want to be supportive, but I've been a workaholic for so long that I am just woefully," he rolled his eyes, "pathetically, out of practice at having regular, normal, conversations with people." He moved his hand over to squeeze her fingers, "but I am a good listener. So you talk as you much as you need to about whatever you want, and I will nod along and speak up on any point where I think I can offer some advice," his eyebrow quirked up faintly, "okay?"

Emily stared back at Hotch for a moment before a watery smile touched her lips.

"Okay," she whispered back.

Seeing that he'd actually managed to fix his colossal fuckup . . . that he'd actually made her feel better . . . Hotch gave Emily a soft smile.

Then he told her to wait one second just before he pushed himself up and went down to the counter to get the other coffee the girl was making for him.

When he came back to the table a minute later, he dropped a fresh stack of napkins down before he paused to check the lid on Emily's cup. Once he was sure that it was secure, he placed it on the table in front of her. Then he picked up a few of the napkins and cleaned up the spill.

Now that all of that was addressed, he turned to get the chair from the next table. He spun it around backwards so he could face her.

And then . . . hoping that the third time was the charm . . . he dropped down into the seat, plowed right in.

"All right," his lip quirked up slightly, "now what else did the doctor tell you?"

He could see that at first Emily was a little hesitant to start talking. But as she went along, slowly that initial spark of enthusiasm started to come back.

It wasn't long from there, that . . . to his relief . . . she was acting like her normal self again.

And as he listened to her lament about the foods she could no longer eat, and ask him questions about the things that she'd read in her book, he realized that this might actually be fun. Because he had decided to become more involved in her personal life because he knew that she was alone and needed someone. But now that he was actually starting to get pulled into her life, he could see the true possibilities here.

Because he needed someone too.

People thought that he was oblivious, but he'd known for awhile now that he was working far too much. But he didn't know what else to do with himself. Before the divorce he had been an agent, a father, and a husband. Sadly, he had seen too late that those roles had been in that order of priority.

So now he was down to just agent and father.

And his role as a father was severely curtailed. He had Jack on the weekends and that was it. So the rest of his time . . . the time when he used to be a husband . . . those hours he just filled now with work. Because he didn't want to start dating, that held no appeal. And he had no hobbies, and really no friends that he hung out with . . . not anymore.

But he was a man that needed to feel useful.

So rather than finding a hobby or reconnecting with old friends, he threw himself completely into his job. It was a temporary solution to his permanent problem.

What to do with his life.

But now Emily had come along with this new baby, and he was seeing a way that he could be useful again. Even if it was just for snippets of time, it was a diversion. So although he was helping her . . . she was also helping him.

Plus . . . his eyes crinkled as she laughed about something . . . he really was quite fond of Emily. She was intelligent and funny . . . and a genuinely kind person. That's why he'd always wished that she'd find someone who was more worthy of her affections.

Someone who would appreciate her.

And thinking back over what had been done to her . . . how she'd been betrayed and humiliated . . . Hotch's jaw twitched slightly.

It was clear though that with this last boyfriend, she'd definitely hit the scumbag jackpot. And he wanted to ask her if Matheson had made any more contact . . . if he'd given her any problems . . . but she was in a good mood right now, and he didn't want to bring that down.

Not again.

Besides, it would probably be best to wait before he showed anymore interest in her ex. Because Hotch had plans for him. And though he was going to make damn sure that what happened couldn't be traced back to Emily, he was also trying to make sure that if Emily found out what happened, she couldn't trace it back to him either.

Plausible deniability. That was the name of the game.

Suddenly seeing the color drain from Emily's face, as her voice faded to nothing, Hotch's brow creased as he reached over to touch her arm.

"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly, "are you sick?"

Though she'd just told him two minutes ago that there hadn't been any morning sickness yet, that didn't mean it wasn't coming.

Shaking her head slowly, Emily's eyes snapped back to his.

"That woman who just walked in," she whispered, ". . . that's her."

Hotch's eyes widened slightly.

Okay, he wasn't expecting that. And needing now to get a look at the newest customer, he knocked his empty coffee cup to the floor so he could turn to pick it up. Then he quickly eyed the woman in question before looking back to Emily.

"She's not paying you any attention. And she's laughing with her friend, so I'm quite sure there's no problem. But . . ." he stood up, making sure to block Emily from view, "we should probably get going anyway."

Emily slowly stood up, keeping her face averted. She had no idea if this woman knew who she was, but she definitely didn't want to ever find out. And then Hotch put his hand on her shoulder, and started guiding her towards the side door.

Once they were outside, he gestured with his chin in the opposite direction of the office.

"How about we just take the long way around the block so we don't run into her?"

She gave him a grateful nod, "yeah, thanks."

After they'd cleared the tension, and Hotch had spilled his guts, the two of them had been having a really good conversation. Apparently the coffee lid falling off was the best thing that could have happened to her.

Because she knew now that his interest in her situation was genuine.

And he'd been really helpful, telling her the things in the book that were true, and which ones she should double check with her doctor. It was kind of weird that of the two of them, he had the most pregnancy experience even though she was the one carrying the baby.

Either way though, she was grateful for the advice.

She really wished that she had a sister or a best friend to talk to, but her only close friends were at work, and her sister had died when Emily was nineteen. A drunk driver hit her limo on the way home from prom. Besides her sister, four other kids had died that day, one was still in a vegetative coma, and the limo driver had been paralyzed from the waist down.

The drunk driver got five years for involuntarily manslaughter, out in three.

That was when Emily had decided to go into law enforcement. And that decision . . . to choose a dangerous career after her parents had already lost a child . . . had further strained her relationship with her mother.

So she literally didn't have any women in her life that she could turn to right now.

Yeah . . . she huffed to herself . . . Hotch was apparently the closest thing she was going to get to a girlfriend.

And hearing the man in question clear his throat, Emily turned to look up at him.

"Do you want to get coffee again tomorrow?"

"Yeah," her eyes crinkled, "I'd like that." She looked back at the sidewalk.

"I'd like that a lot."

A/N 2: It is a little annoying with these first couple of chapters because I wrote them SO long ago, (a decade at least) that my writing was 'different' then. Less polished, shall we say :) and given how I've written probably a half a million words since then, I can clearly see the dividing line from Old Writing To New. And even if this is a repost, current me can't put up anything I now consider "subpar" :) I mean, I'm not starting from scatch here (said before, not getting paid), but I am trying to smooth over the bits that I just can't let go. Hopefully it'll be a better read for everyone :)

Side point, this Old Writing to New issue is why I am genuinely dreading the repost on All The Kings Horses. It was literally the first spinoff, so it was started way, way, WAY, back in the day. And know it's going to need some major TLC before it can start back up again :-[

This story was a good exercise for me to see if I could jump out of my Girl box and be imaginative enough to come up with other, plausible, reasons for their decisions and behavior based on those initial canon inferences in the early seasons. So in Girl, Emily is an only child and went into law enforcement because of her father. And here I gave her a sister that was killed in a criminal act as the reason, not only for her career choice, but for her problems with her mother. I think both are plausible, but clearly this one makes things a little darker. And that's part of what I'm going for here. This is a world with some shadows.

I also moved the timing of Hotch's divorce up a little. If not for the writer's strike that season it's possible his divorce would have gone through earlier, so here I've had him divorced since December. And I did that because I wanted him to be ready to move on, to be self aware enough to know on his own that he can't bury himself in work forever. And the personal space issues he has to work through in Girl, I didn't have the time for him to work through them here :) So in this world he's reserved at work, but he's not so hung up that he can't physically interact with Emily off duty like Morgan or Rossi would.

Speaking of Rossi, in the spirit of changing things up, I'm making him an active matchmaker as opposed to a casual observer.

Thanks all!