She anticipated his reply, a part of her afraid he would get bored and stop. But that small part inside of her, it clung to the hope for dear life. Like a small child would cling to a toy.
[SMS:Unknown] So… it’s different than the average detective/consultant?
[text: Unknown] You could say that, yes.

The girl was giggling as she read the newest text. It was as if she were talking to her own personal, Sherlock Holmes. Now she wondered if he was also British. Oh she hoped he was.
[SMS;Unknown] Do you solve crimes and save people?
He was even more reluctant to answer this question. The sudden feeling of celebrity he’d gotten from the Hobbs’ case was unnecessary and unwanted, he didn’t wish to draw even more attention to himself.
I k n o w who I am
I am not Garret Jacob Hobbs
[SMS: Unknown] Not in the traditional sense.

Alice stared at the phone, honestly confused. Which was why she pulled out her laptop and looked it up.
[SMS:unknown] Holy crap. You’re really smart, and like Sherlock Holmes in a sense!
The reference to the fictional detective who uses forensic sciences to solve his mysteries was not unheard of, and the profiler’s lips twitch up at the message as he read it.
Because he is i n s a n e
[SMS: Unknown] I suppose, yes.

[SMS: Unknown] …A teacher of what exactly?
He considers lying and saying he taught English or math, but lying never seems to get him anywhere, so he reluctantly tells the girl the truth.
[SMS: Unknown] Criminal psychology.

When her phone goes off, Alice thinks long and hard. Could he help her? Maybe he could fix plumbing? That would be nice if he could.
[SMS:unknown] Are you a plumber, by any chance?
[SMS: Unknown] No, I’m a teacher.

Alice got a text back almost instantaneously, her eyes going a bit wide from pure embarrassment. In all her time, she never knew how stupid it was to send a topless text until right then.
[SMS:Unkown] I am SO sorry! Um… Hi there.
He gets a message back almost immediately and he sighs once more, opening up the message and reading it. He wonders if this is a prank, pulled by some of his students. He’ll have to find out.
[SMS: unknown] Can I help you with something, miss?

His phone vibrates in his pocket as he dismisses the class. Assuming it was Jack Crawford, he rolls his eyes and takes the phone out with a heavy sigh. Opening the text, he stares momentarily, eyebrows raised. It was definitely not Jack Crawford. The number is unfamiliar to the profiler and he waves it off as spam.
He sends a reply nonetheless:
[SMS: unknown] I think you have the wrong number.
