"Look," Greg said, snapping pictures of the victim, a young man in his twenties, dressed in black with acrylic fangs visible between his bloody lips. "All I'm saying is that when blood sucking anything starts falling from the sky, something is seriously wrong."
"Mosquitoes," Sara called idly from where she bagged a small collection of cigarette butts a couple yards away.
"Black flies," Nick added, sweeping the grass with his flashlight.
Sofia joined in with, "Vampire bats," and shrugged when they all turned to look at her.
"And it was a balcony, Greg," Grissom corrected, "not the wild blue yonder."
Greg sighed. "I hate you all."