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Summary
Twenty-five pairs of eyes, and they give the microphone to the woman with the conventional balance of someone who absolutely does not give a damn about convention.
Hotch watches her take the stage in a pantsuit.
He tells himself the pinching in his chest is irrational.
Under the crisp white linen of the tablecloth, Beth's fingers find his and link them. He turns to meet her questioning look and is met with a smile tugging at the corner of her lip. He swallows hard, a dry click in his throat, and forces his attention back to the front, to the wineglass held with unnerving steadiness in Emily's hand.
"Good evening, everyone, good evening." Her voice is this nauseating amplified purr. "One minute of your attention, thank you."
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or the one where someone thought it was a good idea to hand emily a mic at hotch’s engagement party.