Tea. Call him British but he adored the stuff. He'd actually lost track of how many cups he'd had so far. So he was as expected jittering slightly. But in all honesty he didn't care, he was in a fine mood and he planned on celebrating. He'd finally found something to relieve his boredom. He settled the cup down and laced his fingers still watching the flashing lights. He couldn't see them due to the crowd that had huddled around the yellow tape. It was the closest some of them would come to true danger. It had been cornered off much faster than he expected. He wasn't the cause this time. Some gang shooting, meaningless to him and hence uninteresting. He smiled as a woman asked him if the seat was free. He nodded going back to his paper. The shooting was so popular because of the 'string of shootings' across the country. All the same shot gun. He wasn't too keen on guns himself. Hated them really, the splatter and the noise. He liked to believe he was above using them. Sleeping pills and nooses where more his style. They allowed him to work without detection from prying eyes. They had no idea how close he was, he'd seen them step out of the car and was still watching as they scuttled about. The woman facing him had been texting since she sat down and nobody else was looking at him. He placed his money onto the table and tucked the newspaper under his arm. He immersed himself within the crowd quickly. He was able to disappear with the rest of them. He removed his glasses as he pushed to the front before placing them back on slowly. He could see them and they had no idea who he was.

It was clear quickly that this was not the killer they were after, just a senseless killing by one of the local gangs. He'd been so certain that this would help them catch the shooter. But no he was leaving empty handed. He would have to call Penelope and tell her to stop the CCTV search. It was nice that they weren't dealing with a serial killer but in a strange, twisted way it was worst this way. They had no more evidence to try and capture him and the profile was lacking. He turned looking towards the large crowd, they needed to disperse, there wasn't anything to really see. Just a dead body and surely they saw enough of them on TV. Most people were craning and trying desperately to see the body. But one figure was staring at the workers. Completely calm, actually they weren't showing emotions. Most showed anger, shock, horror or sadness. They weren't flinching and it wasn't that they were trying to act. Their hands in their pockets as they grinned. He took a few steps towards them as somebody shouted

"Agent Morgan…" He turned towards the officer's voice. He must have only been looking for a moment but when he turned back the figure was leaving. He ran towards asking them to stop but they were gone. Just over the crowd he saw them hailing a cab. Something about them was unnerving. He wasn't sure why. For all he knew they were some office chump who was on his lunch break when this happened. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling he'd seen that look before.

They'd connected and it was marvellous. He'd looked him straight in the eyes and held his gaze. He'd had high hopes for the BAU and it seemed they might be able to provide some form of entertainment. He knew Morrison was here, he'd seen her get off the plane. The only person to link together the dots. But she'd stumbled upon it and required nudges and hints. Yet these perhaps would provide him with the challenge he needed and desired. He was unsure if he wanted to be caught most of him screamed against it. He could cope in any establishment they saw fit to place him but he wanted a blazing glory. He wanted somebody to be the Sherlock Holmes to his Moriarty. He knew it was childish that he saw fit to kill those who didn't match up to his standards and with so few actually being deemed worthy he knew this was problematic.

"Turn here." He said sitting back in the taxis seats he had no idea where he was going but he could entertain himself for now. He had over two thousand dollars in his pocket and was currently staying at the four seasons. Mostly because he liked the free soap and shampoo he got there. Even though they frowned upon him taking it from the trolley. Reportedly they didn't like that type of behaviour there. He was staying in the Washington suite though so it wasn't exactly like they were going to throw him out for stealing complimentary toiletries and perhaps a bathrobe or two. The funny thing was in plain sight or at least he believed he'd covered a busboy's mouth and nose with his hand. He wasn't sure if he had or not. But he remembered them struggling and flailing under his hand and he might have driven to a rubbish tip. But as always he couldn't be sure. He couldn't be sure of much not any more.

Now this he really wasn't sure of. He got over nine hundred channels in this suite and he was watching a 'detective show' that involved imbeciles.

"It wasn't a suicide you moronic pieces of filth." He snapped at the screen "He was left handed, how on earth is he meant to shoot himself in the right side of the head at such close range. You pathetic imbeciles." He threw a cushion at the screen before standing. He had come here to relax but he was still testy due to the tea. He'd removed his waist jacket and tie. Place his shoes in the wardrobe and pulled his socks off. His belt was now on the bathroom floor but he still wasn't relaxed. He doubted he'd be able to relax here. He'd already discovered the name of the man.

It had taken him a few hours to scan through the newspapers looking for recent stories about black FBI agents. Agent Derek Morgan. With a name it was incredible how much was available online. He'd found school records, sport awards, anything that had ever been written down about him was available somewhere. He had a nicely little written folder on his laptop now. He'd search everything in a library copied it to a pen drive and transferred it. He was awfully paranoid about people tracking his searches. He'd crushed the pen drive and taken a five minute walk to dump them in different bins. He needed a challenge he wanted somebody who was dammed near impossible to get to. Derek Morgan might be his challenge.

The BAU, the behavioural analysis unit. Perhaps when he bored of the game he'd let them analyse him maybe they could tell him why he did what he did. He doubted it though. He doubted they'd even go after him not unless DI Morrison convinced them to work with her. Now DI Morrison was somebody who just hadn't met his original expectations. He was a fair man though, he wouldn't have anything done to her. Unless she messed this up for him. Then he'd watch her swing.