PEACE. jareau

001 - perfect places

Robyn was stressed, to say the least: the worst case scenario had occured. She was running late. What a coincidence – she stopped in her tracks and thought about it for a second. Robyn wasn't the type of person to run late. Actually, she was embarrassingly punctual for someone who only wore watches as a fashion accessory. She had taken that trait over from her mother, the ginger-haired older woman had always cringed at simply the thought of not being punctual to the exact minute. When Robyn had been a child, her mother had always gotten a little too mad with her whenever the girl wasn't where she was supposed to be at the time she was supposed to be there. And now, her first day of work, she was running late, despite having lain awake the whole night, rolling around in her bed, eyes focused on the few starts she could make out in the sky.

However, even the golden piece on her wrist couldn't make her go back in time. She should've worn one of those time traveller things Hermione Granger had used, maybe then she wouldn't have been caught up in this chaos. Sighing, she took a closer look at her watch to figure out what time it was.  7:20. Great, the subway had officially left five minutes ago. Her hand reached out towards one of the decor pillows on her beige couch, throwing it across the room like she hadn't done that twice already, when a silver bundle showed up on the cushion. Another long sigh left her rose lips as she grabbed the keys hastily, as if she was embarrassed someone had been watching her search for what had been there all along. Her mother would've laughed at her right now if Maribel Montgomery had been there to see this scene, and then hunted her down all the way until she reached the office (On time, obviously. Only uncultured people were late.)

The subway had left, which meant that she had to take her car. This was another thing about the young woman that people tended to not really understand. Robyn liked taking the subway, to be entirely honest, it was most likely her favorite form of transportation. She found it far more interesting than sitting in your car, lonely, with only music giving you company in your own little vehicle, rushing past others in their little vehicles – There were no funny, drunk, stupid or annyoing people to watch, she couldn't play the game of "Who's the serial killer" (which was now her profession). Robyn preferred the subway. She definitely did.

After another short glance at her watch, she decided to step into a pair of black DocMartens and leave her apartment. The air inside her car was thick and cold, her hands freezing as she put one against the steering wheel and one on the shift lever before navigating the orange toyota out of the garage.

With every second that she came closer to her new place of working - the FBI HQ in Washington DC, she felt more and more worried about her state of mind regarding, well, all of this. Maybe she had closed enough chapters in her life for a new one to not be exciting, maybe she was just tired from watching the stars all night, but something was definitely up because as she stepped out of the elevator, her heart was beating slow and steady, and even as the elevator rang above her head, there was no sweat forming on her hands, no shake in her fingertips, no rushed breathing or racing thoughts. Her rose colored lips formed a soft but professional smile against her pale skin as the doors opened. Robyn brushed a strand of her ginger waves past her ear, looking down at her black boots. They made her feet seem a lot bigger than they were, she realized, and gave her a few inches of additional height, which, considering her 5'5 tall body, wasn't exactly inconvenient. Her green eyes trailed upwards again, gazing across the large office area. Despite the early hour, almost every desk was filled with files, people were running around hastily, from the coffee corner in the right corner, up the little balcony towards the private offices, from printer back to their desk. Robyn had expected the people at the FBI to be calmer, after all Aaron Hotchner had seemed almost too calm when she had first met him.

She could see a squeaky looking man with brown hair at the coffee mashine, pouring sugar into his cup as if he was brewing a secret potion (because really, that couldn't be coffee, right?)