[No, he assumed wrong. It's not that she gets reminders of home. Those never go away; either it's a nightmare or something that pings her brain into remembering the horribleness day in and day out. There's no escaping that. Angela's problem is that Derek has a shit way of supplying information and even shittier way of avoiding the whole give and take aspect of their budding friendship.
Whatever Derek was doing, he's doing terrible at it because under the helmet, Angela's eyes grow wide and round and she can't yank the helmet off fast enough so she can shove him hard with it.]
You're a profiler? In the BAU? Are you practicing your creeper act to relate to them? Is this how the FBI trains you guys? It never occurred to you to say "Oh, you work with the FBI? I'm in the FBI." Did you think I enjoy talking about all the shit we send you guys on a daily basis? Do I look like I need to be committed? How did you become a profiler and didn't think that telling me you know my name before I've even given it to you would make me think you have issues? Do you know how many whackjobs I've had find out my personal information and send me hearts in the mail? How many times I've had to change my phone number because of weirdo late night heavy breathing phone calls?
[Well. Certainly getting a mouthful from her, but to be honest, it's more out of a rush of fear leaving her and relief settling into the empty space at the bottom of her stomach. Even Brennan's not this bad at people.]
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Whatever Derek was doing, he's doing terrible at it because under the helmet, Angela's eyes grow wide and round and she can't yank the helmet off fast enough so she can shove him hard with it.]
You're a profiler? In the BAU? Are you practicing your creeper act to relate to them? Is this how the FBI trains you guys? It never occurred to you to say "Oh, you work with the FBI? I'm in the FBI." Did you think I enjoy talking about all the shit we send you guys on a daily basis? Do I look like I need to be committed? How did you become a profiler and didn't think that telling me you know my name before I've even given it to you would make me think you have issues? Do you know how many whackjobs I've had find out my personal information and send me hearts in the mail? How many times I've had to change my phone number because of weirdo late night heavy breathing phone calls?
[Well. Certainly getting a mouthful from her, but to be honest, it's more out of a rush of fear leaving her and relief settling into the empty space at the bottom of her stomach. Even Brennan's not this bad at people.]