Yet another random night of random fun in the CSI:NY Lab! If you thought the last one was random...this one's even worse. If you haven't read the last one...check out "Night Shift Mischief."

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of CSI:NY; they belong to CBS and Anthony Zuiker

(let's face it, they'd be rolling their eyes at this one!)

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"Does he carry a gun?"

"Yes."

"That's too easy. Detective Scagnetti."

Sid touched his nose. Danny Messer was right on the money. "Your turn, smart guy."

It was another slow night shift at the NY Crime Lab. Danny Messer, Lindsay Monroe, Sid Hammerback and Marty Pino were seated around the conference room table, eating slices of pizza and playing a game of Twenty Questions.

Danny shook his head. "I hate this game. Do I have to go?"

"Come on, Danny. It's not like it's hard," Lindsay said.

Danny sighed. He really did hate Twenty Questions. But if they were going to make him...then he was going to make the game interesting. He nodded. "All right. Go. And I'll give ya the first one- it's a person."

"Do we know the person?" Lindsay asked, peeling a pepperoni off her slice. She hated the darn things, but Danny insisted on a pepperoni and sausage every single time they ordered out.

"Yup. Nineteen to go."

"Do they work in this lab?" Sid asked.

"Yup. Eighteen."

Marty rolled his slice of pizza like a burrito and popped it into his mouth whole. "That's gross," Danny told him.

Marty mumbled something back. It sounded like, "Waeedoitizzanoyabiz."

"Oh, sure, whatever," Danny rolled his eyes. "Next question."

"Is the person a CSI?" Lindsay asked, trying to ignore Marty.

"Nope." Danny reached for another slice. "Seventeen."

"Do they work in Autopsy?" Sid Hammerback asked. He propped his feet on the table and leaned backwards.

Danny shook his head. "Huh-uh. Sixteen."

"Do they work on this floor?" Lindsay queried. "Knock it off, Marty."

Marty swallowed the pepperoni he'd been pulling in and out of his mouth with his tongue. "Sorry, Montana."

"Did you learn that from Danny?" Lindsay asked him.

He grinned. "It's not my turn to be asked. It's Danny's."

"Fine." Lindsay looked at Danny. "Danny, did you teach him that?"

"Yup. Fifteen."

"What?" Lindsay stood up. "No way, that doesn't count! It wasn't about your person!"

"Doesn't matter. Still a question. Come on, fifteen more to go." Danny grinned evilly at her.

Lindsay chucked a napkin ball at him. "You're such a cheater."

"Like you've never done it." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Come on. Play the game. Fifteen to go."

"Jerk."

"Whiny-baby."

"What are you, six or something?" Sid Hammerback rolled his eyes. "If I've got to come separate you two…"

"Okay Dad," Danny teased. "Come on. Guess."

"Does he work on this floor?" Lindsay repeated.

"Yup." Danny sat up straight, then his mouth snapped open. "Wait a sec, you asked that already! Thirteen!"

"No way!" Lindsay grinned, thrilled she'd pulled one over on him. "You didn't hear it the first time, you didn't count it off. Therefore, it's legal. And we have fourteen questions, not thirteen."

He opened his mouth to protest, closed it, opened it again, then shook his head. He'd been beat at his own game.

"Does he work in Trace?" Marty asked, tossing a department out there.

"Nope. Thirteen," Danny emphasized, glaring at Lindsay.

"How about DNA?" That was from Sid.

"Nope."

"Is it a he?" Lindsay asked, realizing that Danny could be tricky like that.

"Good call, trying to catch me off balance. Yup. Ten questions." Danny pumped his fist, but in a sarcastic gesture. "I'm gonna win."

"Not if I can help it," Lindsay shot back. "Is it Mac?"

"It's not Mac. Nine to go."

"Is it Adam?"

"You'll waste a lot of guesses doing that. No. Eight."

"Does he handle evidence?" Sid asked him.

"No…oh, wait. Sometimes? Uh, yes. Yeah. Yeah, he does. Seven to go."

"Is it a lab tech?" Marty asked.

"Six more. And no."

"Is it- whoa!" Sid couldn't finish his question before he leaned too far back in his chair and went crashing to the conference room floor.

Lindsay glared at Danny. "Does that count as a question?"

He smiled. "Nope, but that one does. Five to go!"

"I hate you."

"You love me."

She shrugged. "Okay, maybe a little." She bit her lip, thinking hard. Then she looked at him in disbelief. "Is it you?"

He shook his head. "I handle evidence. The person I'm thinking of does, but only sometimes. Shoulda been paying attention. Four more."

"Who works in the lab, only handles evidence sometimes, and isn't a lab tech?" Marty wondered aloud.

"Marty!" Lindsay hissed, knowing full well the next word out of Danny's mouth. "Don't you dare say three, Danny Messer!"

He shrugged. "Hey, you play the game, I play it cutthroat. Thhhhrrreeee!" he dragged it out.

"It's Twenty Questions!" Lindsay said. "You're too competitive for this game. No one I've ever played it with is as mean as you!"

"Next time, don't ask me to play. I hate this game, which is why I'm being such a jerk. Now hurry up." Danny twirled a pop bottle around the table.

"Wait a second…"Lindsay glared at him and rolled her eyes. "Danny, you're such a jerk!"

"What?" he asked innocently…but he knew where she was headed.

"Does this person carry a gun?" Lindsay demanded of him. "And don't answer that, 'cause I know the answer's yes."

"And the last question is?" Danny asked, leaning back in his chair.

"Is it Don Flack?"

He nodded. "Bingo. Can I go to the bathroom now?"

"Wait! Flack doesn't work on this floor!" Marty Pino protested.

"He does when he's coming to get evidence from us, or talkin' to Mac, or lettin' us know he's got a suspect," Danny countered.

"He doesn't handle evidence!" Sid objected.

"Ah, but if we need DNA from a suspect, and Flack's arrested him, then the evidence has been 'handled' by him," Danny said, standing. "Plus, I've seen him hold a knife or gun or two."

"Danny, you're a jerk," Sid told him.

He shrugged. "Did I mention I hate this game?"

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When he returned from the bathroom, a full bottle of soda was waiting for him. "What's this?" he asked, instantly suspicious. He checked the seal, but it was intact. "I'm not drinking it."

"Danny, we decided that while you are indeed a jerk," Lindsay began, "we also acknowledge that some of your logic, while a tiny bit flawed, still sort of made sense. So, as a peace offering, we got you another soda."

"I'm not drinking it."

"Come on, Danny." Sid said.

"We're good sports, we didn't touch it," Marty said.

"No freakin' way."

Lindsay stood up and placed herself behind Danny. She began rubbing his shoulders. "Come on, Danny. We're sorry we called you a jerk. We're sorry we made you play. Humor us, huh?"

Danny relaxed….a little. "Fine," he said after a minute. He opened the bottle…

….and yelped as it sprayed brown liquid all over him. Behind him, Lindsay jumped out of the way just in time.

He stood up, dripping, and getting sticky.

Marty, Sid and Lindsay were laughing at him.

He glared at them.

"Jerks."

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OK, so there may have been 21 questions, I don't know, it's hard to keep track. I might make more of these...got an idea for a clean late-night game? Drop me a review! I'm thinking next time around...chair races!