Catch-22| Spencer Reid

twenty-nine

"Yo, who wants a fuckin' dog?" Grey announces, walking into the room where the team had set up. She held a dog carrier, containing the same whining animal that she and Reid had been dealing with for the past hour.

Hotch immediately snaps his head up, surprised by what she had said. "You didn't leave it at the vet?"

"Bitch said I couldn't," she complains.

"She charged me $100 for a rabies test, which consisted of her looking at the thing and informing me that it doesn't look like it has rabies," Grey adds, sitting down at the table in the center of the room.

"Why'd you bother testing it?" JJ inquires. It seemed a little pointless, considering it wasn't her problem.

She holds up her right hand, showing her the four scabbed over dots on it, which were surrounded by skin that was slowly beginning to bruise. "Turns out it's difficult to wrestle a pomeranian."

"You're telling me that tough guy didn't handle it?" Morgan jokingly questions, referring to Reid.

"I don't like dogs," Reid nonchalantly responds, only halfway listening, as he was already scanning over every last bit of writing on the whiteboards in the room.

He continues to stare, eventually asking, "Have you guys tried calling anyone on the list of names Grey gave you?"

"We've got their numbers, but somehow no one that works here can translate Spanish," Gideon explains, "We figured we'd just wait on you guys."

"See, now, did they wait on the us for Italian translation?" Grey sarcastically asks, looking at Reid.

He jokingly rolls his eyes. "Don't start with that again. I told you, I can get by in Spanish."

"So can I," JJ chimes in, "But 'getting by' doesn't help in a comprehensive interviewing process."

Grey sticks her tongue out at him. showing her front teeth in the process as some sort of triumphant smile.

Reid turns to Jareau, who just shrugs with a smirk.

The other three team members seem a little entertained by the conversation too, though Hotch is quick to get everyone back on track.

"Now that you've had your sarcastic dispute, can we get back to business?"

They quickly start nodding, and Grey asks, "Is Garcia ready to transfer the call for us?"

"Yeah," Morgan confirms, "I'll call her now, if we're ready."

She makes an expression of affirmation, saying, "Yeah, go ahead. Just one minute. Where's the man in charge around here?"

"The chief's office is the room right across from here. Why?" Hotch inquires.

Grey is out of the door before he can get an answer, holding the dog carrier in her left hand. She lets the door shut behind her, then walks across the hall. Her fist meets the door as she gives three firm knocks, then opens the door without any verbal prompt to do so.

The presumed chief's head shoots up, then he looks at her with a degree of mild confusion.

Without giving him a chance to say anything, Grey quickly introduces herself. "Hi, I'm Dr. Anne Grey. You're the chief?"

He tentatively nods, saying, "Chief Foulston... I think I've seen you on the news before."

"Yeah, probably," she says, dismissing it. "You think any of your officers would be interested in a dog?"

He sits up, looking inside the carrier she held. "I'll be damned. That's the Almazon's dog, isn't it?"

"Sure as hell is. The thing bit me, but after I gave it some food it was fine."