Greg probably should've been doing what he did best – listening to an obscure sub-genre of rock music through his headphones and reading the soft porn magazines that were neatly slotted into his copy of Forensics Weekly – but today he just couldn't concentrate on not doing his work. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the picture of the scantily clad woman just below the diagram of a rare fingerprint disorder, but she just wasn't…
He sighed. What he really could do with was a good beard.
Most of Greg's fetishes had been safely hidden away from his co-workers (although he had come scarily close to ridicule when Nick had enquired as to how he knew so much about liquid latex), but he began to fear Grissom was growing suspicious. There was only so many times you could wait outside his office with some fake papers until you could catch a glimpse of that beard. But Greg had learnt how to cover himself.
Suggesting that he needed the photo to update the lab's fingerprint records, he had jumped Grissom in the corridor and snapped the perfect shot – beard and the trademark raised eyebrow that made all the girls swoon all in one shot. He had printed out the photo an hour or so after he'd taken it, after taking a few others to back up his story, and had then proceeded to stash it inside one of his magazines. He opened up the top drawer of his desk.
Amid the papers and manuals that reminded him how to do his job, Greg found the photo and pulled it out. He slotted it inside the porn magazine, which was already slotted into Forensics Weekly… An alibi within an alibi. He smiled at the thought, preparing himself to deal with the task ahead. He looked around the lab guiltily, leaning out of his seat slightly to check to see if anyone was walking the corridors.
He was lucky it had been a slow night, 'cause that was one hot beard.
