Description
"Look, Mr. Hotchner, Agent Hotchner, Hotch, my brother is dead, we've dealt with it already, I have a life, people I need to take care of, the last thing I need to do is throw my family into any unknown water anytime soon bringing this back up," I say, increasing my speed. A hand grips my arm, the same way my mom did Friday morning, causing me to wince and stop my jogging. Hotchner lets go but stares at me, then my arm, noticing the fingerprints left by my mother. Shouldn't have worn a sports bra. "What happened to your arm?" he asks, pointing to the bruise. I look at it then at him, "I work at a club Agent Hotchner, people aren't very nice when a pretty lady says no," The lie falls out so easily it almost makes me laugh. "Right well, that's another thing I want to talk you about, Maddison Crawford?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. I let out a small chuckle, "Took you that long to find out, I mean, my southern accent ain't that good," Hotchner rolls his eyes, waving for me to follow him. "Hotch, I have to get home, I came out for a run, not to talk about my dead brother," He pauses, turning to me, "Tatum, we need to talk, it's serious," I shake my head, "Look Agent Hotchner, I don't care, and that's not just teenage arrogance its facts okay, so your a profiler take a hint, I didn't not open my door because I wasn't able to," #1 FBI
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