[ There's always a moment right before you get a face with the folder that is practically brimming with electric anticipation. He sees those long fingers move in the dim light, time slowing down to a crawl as the man emerges only to stop completely as recognition sinks in.
He doesn't lower the gun, despite his guard slipping. There's a shifting of weight and a wetting of lips as he tries to pull his professionalism back into place. ]
Spencer Reid, FBI. [ Closely watching. Does he remember? ] You're under arrest for the murder of 17 people.