Cogito, Ergo Sum

I think, therefore I am.

***

Sara Sidle scrunched her eyebrows together. 27 divided by 14. That made a 0.7 to 0.3 ratio of green lights to red lights, and a 66 percentage rate of green. Not bad, she thought to herself, yesterday was only a 52 percentage rate. If Sara's calculations were correct, and she left 4.37 minutes later tomorrow, she should hit 12 percent less red lights.

She smiled smugly as she walked into the crime lab. Today was going to be good.

53 steps from the front door to her locker – 48 if she went the short way, but that meant passing the break room, and Sara didn't want any delays. However, it was five steps less and that meant five seconds less. Five seconds could really add up. The short way it was.

"Hey Sara."

Dammit.

Greg was leaning against the doorway of the break room - arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. His face positively gleaming with curiosity. Don't stop. Just say 'Hello' and walk by.

"Hello."

Sara focused on her steps. 12. 13. 14. Shit.

Greg had moved away from the door and positioned himself directly in front of her. She tried to sidestep him, intent on continuing her journey down the hall. She moved to the left, he followed. She moved to the right, he followed. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"What, Greg?"

He grinned.

"What's the hurry?"

"Don't answer my question with another question," Sara snapped, "and I am not in a hurry."

Yes, ma'am," he said cheekily.

Sara glared.

"And the 'what?' was 'what's the hurry?'."

"Huh?"

"Well, you asked me 'what?' and I replied - " Greg started.

"Forget it," Sara said cutting him off.

He stepped aside, an evident invitation to pass. Great. Sara glanced down at her watch. One minute and 42 seconds wasted. She could of been at her locker 68 seconds ago.

And today had been going so well. Leave it to Greg to screw everything up.

***

Sara placed her things delicately into her locker. Coat, here. Purse, here. Check and check. Thanks to Greg's annoying interference, she had arrived at her locker 83 seconds late, even after practically sprinting down the hallway.

"Sara. Male DB in the Bellagio fountains. Age seven. Take Greg with you."

She turned to face Grissom. "Fun," she said with a grimace.

Grissom merely smiled.

***

"Can I drive?"

"No. It's my turn."

"When is it my turn?" asked Greg as he hopped into the passenger side of Sara's car.

"When we take your car."

There was no way that Sara was ever going to let Greg drive her car. Besides she knew the precise speed to drive at in order to reach more green lights than red lights. Of course, that wasn't factoring in the traffic, but that was nearly impossible to predict.

"Don't put that there," Sara stated as Greg leaned over to place his cup of coffee into the cup holder.

"Oh-kay," said Greg, sitting back with his cup in his right hand.

"So," started Greg, taking a sip of his coffee, "can we take my car next time?"

"No."

Greg frowned, sticking out his bottom lip.

"When can we take my car?'

"Never."

***

"Can't you go a little bit faster?" asked Greg, peeking over at Sara's speedometer.

"No."

"But it's a 50 zone, and you're only going 47. Can't you atleast reach the speed limit?"

"No."

Greg rolled his eyes at Sara's blunt tone.

"If I go 50 miles per hour, I will reach 8 percent more red traffic lights than if I go 47. So, in the long run, going slower saves time," She explained. "Besides, you're just reckless."

"Well, you're weird, " Greg retorted.

Sara sighed. I know.

"But I love it," he said with a laugh.