i swear,
i'm only cryptic and machiavellian
cause I care.
Agent Lucy Byrne is damn good at her job. She's meticulous, she's cautious, she's stoic and she's so darn smart. But when case upon case begins to remind her more and more of a buried time...
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~🫀~ LUCKY season three, episode eight (3x8) ~❤️🩹~
AGENT LUCY BYRNE WAS THE WORST THE BAU HAD TO OFFER. Not in the sense that she was poor at her job. No. If we were on that topic, it would be accurate to say she was climbing the ranks in terms of skill and consistency. She was good. Not just in matching puzzle pieces, but in handling the most wicked and evil of this species. She knew just what to say. She could manipulate just about anyone like a xylophone (her and Spencer had once had a brief discussion focused on musical instruments. He had said, "you know, the xylophone is actually one of the easiest instruments to learn to play. It's a common instrument for children to begin with. . .yada yada yada). Point being, she had become so mastered in manipulating these villains, it was easy as pie. That was her problem. And that's what made her bad.
Truth be told, and this was important, and Lucy often felt compelled to convince her team of this fact: she did not come onto this earth as a bad person. But, now, to her, that doesn't matter. In her eyes, the unsubs who weep over their crimes aren't necessarily better than those who don't. A crime is a crime. No amount of tears will cleanse them of that.
So Lucy was bad. And she lived with that.
But. . .there were certain times where Lucy felt young again. Purified. There were certain people that made Lucy feel good. In these times, she would forget those feelings of hypocrisy that so fermented in her stomach, like a rotten source growing. They would subside, and her head would emerge from the soil she was under, and she could breathe. No noose around her neck. She could breathe. And it felt good.
And, selfishly, she took every ounce of benefit from these moments, because they were scarce and few. And she wasn't sure what she would turn into if she couldn't feel them anymore.
"And, so, what? He just gave you his card because you fixed his computer?" She was balled up on the desk in Garcias cave, Jane Austen's 'Emma' dog-eared next to her, eagerly awaiting Penelope's reply.
"Yeah, basically. It was so. . .I don't know, it was weird. I didn't even have to pull out any of my stops! I wasn't even thinking about it either. I just—I was ready to leave and he just. . .gave it to me." Penelope paced, tossing her hands about in a frenzy.
Lucy took offence to Penelope's surprise, and said, "well, it's not that surprising. Men are like rabid animals. They see a pretty girl, they pounce when they get the chance. Getting in there before anyone else could."
Penelope's laugh echoed off the walls. "Oh, you flatter me, gorgeous. It's just, I haven't been on a date in so long. And, I know, it's not a date-date, it's lunch. But it's really a lunch-date, so. . .I don't know why I'm so amped up over this. It's so not a big deal."
