It comes quickly and hurried, with wide eyes, because why would he want to get involved with any of this? Reid is a sensible kind of guy (sometimes), and he sees absolutely no attraction in a life spent getting maimed by vampires and clawed by werewolves and attacked by whatever else goes bump in the night. He can see the weight of it on Sam, similar to the weight he sees on his team's shoulders during a particularly gruesome case-- Reid already deals with the worst that humanity has to offer, he doesn't want to add the supernatural to his already full plate.
"I've caught my breath; let's drag this chair to the bathroom so you can sit while I work."
And even as he thinks that, even as he directs Sam, he knows it's not going to be that easy. Part of it is his academic mind desperate for more knowledge, wholly unwilling to leave a topic largely unknown. Most of it is a dawning realization that he's almost certainly brushed up against the supernatural before, and never known it.
How many serial killers have they taken down? (Spencer knows the exact number; he turns that number over in his mind every night before he sleeps.) Were any of them possessed? Were any of the cannibals actually vampires? Were any of the mass shooters cursed? Six months ago one of the killers had an obsession with the moon-- was he a werewolf, and they just never knew?
Can he know about monsters, and not feel he has to help the victims of them?
It's on the tip of his tongue to retract his promise, but he stuffs the urge down. If he does wind up dealing with the supernatural, Sam doesn't have to know. Sam seems like the kind that would feel guilty about dragging someone in, and Spencer doesn't want to lay that on his already burdened shoulders.
Instead, he just wets a fresh cloth, and prepares to start cleaning up Sam's wound once he situates himself.
no subject
It comes quickly and hurried, with wide eyes, because why would he want to get involved with any of this? Reid is a sensible kind of guy (sometimes), and he sees absolutely no attraction in a life spent getting maimed by vampires and clawed by werewolves and attacked by whatever else goes bump in the night. He can see the weight of it on Sam, similar to the weight he sees on his team's shoulders during a particularly gruesome case-- Reid already deals with the worst that humanity has to offer, he doesn't want to add the supernatural to his already full plate.
"I've caught my breath; let's drag this chair to the bathroom so you can sit while I work."
And even as he thinks that, even as he directs Sam, he knows it's not going to be that easy. Part of it is his academic mind desperate for more knowledge, wholly unwilling to leave a topic largely unknown. Most of it is a dawning realization that he's almost certainly brushed up against the supernatural before, and never known it.
How many serial killers have they taken down? (Spencer knows the exact number; he turns that number over in his mind every night before he sleeps.) Were any of them possessed? Were any of the cannibals actually vampires? Were any of the mass shooters cursed? Six months ago one of the killers had an obsession with the moon-- was he a werewolf, and they just never knew?
Can he know about monsters, and not feel he has to help the victims of them?
It's on the tip of his tongue to retract his promise, but he stuffs the urge down. If he does wind up dealing with the supernatural, Sam doesn't have to know. Sam seems like the kind that would feel guilty about dragging someone in, and Spencer doesn't want to lay that on his already burdened shoulders.
Instead, he just wets a fresh cloth, and prepares to start cleaning up Sam's wound once he situates himself.