"Since when are you a doctor? Last I remember, you were no better than a tabloid journalist."
Tatum Katz had a rough start with the BAU. Her papparazzi-adjacent photographer being a suspect in one of their cases wasn't exactly a great first impress...
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fifty || post-season 9, episode 10
Tate was rapidly moving around Miles' apartment, attempting to precisely direct each person in the space. Her agent was making this a much bigger deal than she'd ever imagined with hired caterers, decorators, and even a florist. "Is this really necessary?" Tate asked for the hundredth time as her agent, Caleb Enoch, came up beside her.
"This is how business is done, Dr. Katz. Trust me," Caleb chuckled.
Tate smiled slightly. "You know I only trust you because I trust Rossi."
"Well, that just proves your exemplary brilliance, now doesn't it?" Caleb Enoch was an older man with salt-and-pepper hair pristinely groomed. He was always in a three piece suit and consistently made Tate feel underdressed for the occasion.
"Brains and beauty. Who knew one person could have it all?" Bram chimed in from his lounged position in the corner. Abraham Enoch was a completely different story from his father with pale blonde hair and the fashion sense of a street urchin.
Not to mention, Tate's feelings were reserved for another despite Bram's constant flirting. So, of course, her response was "Shut the hell up, Bram."
"Yes, ma'am," he said with a salute and a wink.
As Tate's eyes rolled to the ceiling, the door cracked open and Miles weaved through workers with his carrier of coffees, handing on first to Tate who immediately took greedy sips of the rejuvenating drink, then moved on to the Enochs. "How are you feeling, Joy?" Miles asked as they snuck off to a quieter part of the apartment.
"Like this is entirely embarrassing. LIke maybe I shouldn't have made such a big fuss. Like it would have been so nice to have just gone out to dinner with you and the team or something," Tate rattled off.
Miles nodded slowly. "That's a lot of feelings."
"Like father, like daughter," a new voice chimed in. The pair looked up to see Rossi joining them with open arms.
"Thank fuck you're here," Tate muttered into his shoulder as they embraced. "Please remind me why I'm doing this."
"Networking, Tate. It's all networking," Rossi replied as he pulled back and shook Miles' hand. "All of my old publishing buddies have RSVP'd, alright? So there will be some big distributors in the building. I'll introduce you, you'll charm them with that quick wit of yours, and before you know it, your book will be in every store in the country. You have my word."
Miles exhaled as a layer of anxiety lifted off of his shoulders. "Yeah. Thank fuck you're here," he repeated, smiling at his daughter.
"The rest of the team will be here within the hour. Are you drinking coffee? It's seven p.m."
"What's your point?" Tate said as she gulped back the rest of her cup. "I'm gonna brew more in the kitchen. There is no way I'm not getting through this night without excessive amounts of caffeine."
