Work Text:
An unexpected clatter startled Reese, who smoothly pulled out and aimed his gun as he swung around and caught sight of a small, unkempt woman, dressed in a motley assortment of brightly colored fabrics, topped by a patchwork bonnet on her head. On the floor at her side lay a mop, sitting in the midst of a puddle of water.
“Who are you?” Reese hissed, his gun trained on her. A look of shock on her face, the woman trembled, spilling water out of the bucket that she held, but remained silent.
Reese advanced slowly. “Set that down bucket right now,” he growled. Quickly, the woman obeyed, but in her haste, it landed on her booted foot and tipped over, resulting in a stream of brown water running right toward him.
“Shit!” He sidestepped the flood just in time to avoid soaking his shoes, then turned his gun on the woman once again. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” he growled. The woman said nothing, instead grabbing at her dingy crocheted vest with both hands, crumpling the edges in her agitation.
Reese took a deep breath and glared at the woman. “You’d better start giving me some answers,” he growled.
“Mr. Reese! Stop that this instant!” Finch’s level of agitation was higher than Reese had ever heard before, but, unblinking, he kept his gun trained on the woman in front of him.
“We have an intruder, Finch,” he announced. “We need to find out why she’s here in the library.”
Finch sighed. “She’s here because it’s her job, John.” Walking between the two, he raised his eyebrows at Reese. “Please put the gun down.” Reluctantly, Reese complied, a perplexed look on his face.
Finch turned toward the woman. “I’m so sorry about this, Ms. Creighton,” he said, soothingly. “I promise, it won’t happen again. Will you be all right?”
The woman gulped, thought for a moment, then bobbed her head up and down. Finch reached down to pick up the bucket and the mop, then handed them to her. “You can go back to work now. And don’t worry about the water in here. Mr. Reese will clean it up.” The woman nodded again, casting one more nervous glance at Reese, then turned and trod off.
“What in the world is going on?” Reese demanded of Finch, impatiently. “She works here? Doing what?”
Finch turned to face him, giving another long sigh, then favoring him with a look that suggested Reese was an imbecile. “Really, Mr. Reese. Do you think that the bathroom cleans itself?”