"Interesting," he repeats, his voice the slightest bit hoarse as he forces himself to look at the movie, though he's still not actually watching it. "That doesn't seem foreboding at all."
For a moment, even in the dark of the theater and with talk of a particular scene, Reid almost forgets they're supposed to be watching a movie. If this is how watching La Strada goes, he thinks he'll be very much looking forward to it for more than one reason. It sounds pretentious but so often, Reid has found that people who strike a conversation with him simply can't keep up, and it's not they don't try or that Reid doesn't try to give them a chance; it's just that everyone has a limit and for the most part, Reid seems to be it.
It's not exactly offensive, sometimes he doesn't even notice, but he thinks that's likely why he finds it so hard to engage people for long periods of time, aside from being a sounding board for random trivia. Years ago, he'd talked to a table of strangers for nearly a full hour but that had been because they'd found it amusing to quiz him on various episodes of Star Trek, testing his eidetic memory and using what he has stored in his knowledge bank as currency for a drinking game.
He'd had fun that night. He may be painfully awkward at times, but he likes talking to people. He likes impressing them and being impressed by them, he likes conversing in foreign languages with those who are skilled enough to do it, and he likes knowing that when he speaks, the other person isn't looking for a way out. It's easy for people to think that he doesn't care when a joke is made at his expense or a sarcastic remark is thrown his way in response to a bit of information that, admittedly, might not have been necessary; but it is hurtful, in some small way. High school had helped him grow a thicker skin, nobody at the BAU has ever tried to tie him naked to a goal post; but when he sees those subtle glimmers of frustration at his ramblings, Reid sometimes wishes he knew how to react to social cues in a better way.
With Luke, though, he hasn't had to do much to read what the man thinks of him. Reid wouldn't have been invited to this birthday party in the first place if Luke didn't like him, after all, so he thinks rather than fight a good thing, it'd be very beneficial for him to embrace it. Luke is the first real friend he'd made in Darrow, possibly even his only real friend, but Reid doesn't yearn for much else. He's content with this connection they've made, with what they've learned and shared about each other, and with all the bits and pieces of this friendship they've built that is leading Reid more and more to the feelings he doesn't want to ignore. Not forever, at least. For right now, they're in a perfectly good place, kept buried deep within his mind.
He lets his gaze linger on Luke's profile as the other man turns to face the screen, and Reid knows he should do the same but he can't help but notice the way Luke's hands are gripping the armrests so tightly and how they'd caught each other's eye just for a moment before they'd both looked away from each other. He can't look away now and if he's caught staring, Reid has no defense in place, no plausible explanation for studying the curve of someone's jaw by the light of a movie he's never seen before, but he can't seem to help it. There are a lot of things he can't help now that he's met Luke, like buying the occasional extra coffee even though there's a machine at the bookstore or texting Luke a picture of something he sees in a shop that he thinks his friend might like.
These are, at least, justifiably friendly acts that aren't too suspicious to the casual observer, but Reid fully understands what it means about himself. He doesn't look at his friends the way he's looking at Luke right now, that's for certain.
no subject
For a moment, even in the dark of the theater and with talk of a particular scene, Reid almost forgets they're supposed to be watching a movie. If this is how watching La Strada goes, he thinks he'll be very much looking forward to it for more than one reason. It sounds pretentious but so often, Reid has found that people who strike a conversation with him simply can't keep up, and it's not they don't try or that Reid doesn't try to give them a chance; it's just that everyone has a limit and for the most part, Reid seems to be it.
It's not exactly offensive, sometimes he doesn't even notice, but he thinks that's likely why he finds it so hard to engage people for long periods of time, aside from being a sounding board for random trivia. Years ago, he'd talked to a table of strangers for nearly a full hour but that had been because they'd found it amusing to quiz him on various episodes of Star Trek, testing his eidetic memory and using what he has stored in his knowledge bank as currency for a drinking game.
He'd had fun that night. He may be painfully awkward at times, but he likes talking to people. He likes impressing them and being impressed by them, he likes conversing in foreign languages with those who are skilled enough to do it, and he likes knowing that when he speaks, the other person isn't looking for a way out. It's easy for people to think that he doesn't care when a joke is made at his expense or a sarcastic remark is thrown his way in response to a bit of information that, admittedly, might not have been necessary; but it is hurtful, in some small way. High school had helped him grow a thicker skin, nobody at the BAU has ever tried to tie him naked to a goal post; but when he sees those subtle glimmers of frustration at his ramblings, Reid sometimes wishes he knew how to react to social cues in a better way.
With Luke, though, he hasn't had to do much to read what the man thinks of him. Reid wouldn't have been invited to this birthday party in the first place if Luke didn't like him, after all, so he thinks rather than fight a good thing, it'd be very beneficial for him to embrace it. Luke is the first real friend he'd made in Darrow, possibly even his only real friend, but Reid doesn't yearn for much else. He's content with this connection they've made, with what they've learned and shared about each other, and with all the bits and pieces of this friendship they've built that is leading Reid more and more to the feelings he doesn't want to ignore. Not forever, at least. For right now, they're in a perfectly good place, kept buried deep within his mind.
He lets his gaze linger on Luke's profile as the other man turns to face the screen, and Reid knows he should do the same but he can't help but notice the way Luke's hands are gripping the armrests so tightly and how they'd caught each other's eye just for a moment before they'd both looked away from each other. He can't look away now and if he's caught staring, Reid has no defense in place, no plausible explanation for studying the curve of someone's jaw by the light of a movie he's never seen before, but he can't seem to help it. There are a lot of things he can't help now that he's met Luke, like buying the occasional extra coffee even though there's a machine at the bookstore or texting Luke a picture of something he sees in a shop that he thinks his friend might like.
These are, at least, justifiably friendly acts that aren't too suspicious to the casual observer, but Reid fully understands what it means about himself. He doesn't look at his friends the way he's looking at Luke right now, that's for certain.