"First day?" Carrie looked up from the screen where she was trying, unsuccessfully, to input drink orders. The dark-haired bartender was eyeing her with a knowing grin as she poured shots from a shaker.

"Yes, and I can't figure out this computer thingy," Carrie sighed, pushing randomly on the screen hoping she'd get to the right menu by accident. The bartender came around to stand next to Carrie.

"Here, let me help you," she chuckled, gently pushing Carrie's hands away from the screen. After the push of a few buttons, Carrie was staring at exactly the screen she had been trying to find.

"Thanks, you're a lifesaver," she told the bartender, who grinned and patted her on the back. "I'm Carrie, by the way. And I'll probably have to ask you how to do that again at least once tonight."

"I'm Emily," the bartender replied. "Emily Prentiss. Most people call each other by last names on the Casino floor."

"Good to know," Carrie breathed a sigh of relief having input the drink order. Emily looked at her own screen behind the bar and began making Carrie's drinks.

"So, where are you from? Tennessee or Kentucky?" Emily asked conversationally. Carrie's jaw dropped.

"Tennessee," she replied, then stuttered, "H-how did you know?"

"I'm a Vegas bartender, I've heard every accent in the country. You could consider me a linguist of English dialects." Emily chuckled, placing three drinks on a tray and handing it to Carrie. "You'll do fine, just pay attention and smile a lot." She told Carrie, winking. Carrie thanked her again and picked up the tray of drinks.

Derek Morgan surveyed the casino floor. He'd spotted the kid on one of the security cameras, and was determined never to see him in the casino again. His com earpiece made a static noise, then he heard, "Come in, my chocolate Adonis."

"What you got for me, baby girl?" He replied, grinning. Morgan had been friends with the I.T. girl, Penelope Garcia, since before he'd been promoted to head of security in the casino. She could always make him smile, no matter what kind of mood he was in.

"I got pretty boy on blackjack. Table three. He's still cleaning house down there, as usual." As Penelope spoke, Morgan marched off in the direction of the table she'd specified. Once he was past the slot machines he easily spotted the curly brown head and cocky grin he'd been looking for. Spencer Reid had been a thorn in his side for months, and Morgan was determined to end it now.

He approached the table and was greeted by a worried look from the pretty, blonde dealer. He nodded to her understandingly and placed a hand on Reid's shoulder.

"What are you doing here, kid? I thought our little man-to-man talk finally got through to you last time." Morgan gripped Reid's shoulder hard, a firm reminder of the beating he'd given him about a month prior. Morgan silently wondered if Reid's broken collar bone had healed.

"Aw, Morgan, give a guy a break. You know I couldn't go much longer without seeing JJ's pretty face across the table." Reid winked at the dealer as he spoke, leaning jauntily on the table. Morgan moved his hand from Reid's shoulder to the front of his vest and forcefully pulled him up from the table.

"I'm running out of patience with you, boy. This is the last time I'll tell you to get your skinny, card-counting ass out of my casino." He spoke in a fierce growl, trying not to attract the attention of other casino guests. Reid sighed, collecting his chips.

"Ok, we'll do this your way. How about I go cash in my chips and you act like you never saw me. And I won't bother your pretty blackjack dealers again. Scout's honor." He gave Morgan a sarcastic salute, turning to go. As he turned, his shoulder caught the edge of a serving tray, sending it tumbling to the ground, drinks and all. The waitress looked like she might cry as she dropped to the floor and began picking up the bits of broken glass. Reid was caught off guard by her wavy, beach-blonde hair and innocent glow of her pretty face. Leaning toward Morgan, he muttered, "Your pretty cocktail waitresses are another story." Morgan rolled his eyes.

"Just get the fuck off my casino floor. I'm too busy to beat the shit out of you again tonight." Morgan sighed, rubbing his forehead. Reid simply shrugged and sauntered off as Morgan leaned over to help the waitress.

"You must be the new girl," he grinned. Carrie blushed.

"Gee, how could you tell?" She murmured, piling bits of pilsner glasses onto the tray. Morgan laughed softly.

"Don't worry about it," he assured her. "Happens to everybody." He placed the last bits of glass on the tray and picked it up for her.

"I'm Morgan," he introduced himself, shifting the tray to his left hand and extending his right to shake hers. "Head of security. Anybody gives you a hard time, you can come straight to me. I don't put up with shit in my casino." Carrie shook his hand and smiled at him.

"Thanks," she said, giving him a big, genuine smile. "I'm Carrie." Morgan winked at her, handing the tray back.

"Welcome to Vegas, Carrie," he said warmly. As she walked back to the bar, Morgan noticed Reid there, chatting with Prentiss and sipping a drink, most likely waiting for Carrie. He shook his head, resolving to deal with Reid later, and headed back toward the elevators, checking his watch as he walked. He couldn't be late for his nightly meeting with the casino manager.