bi)
Ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven.
That's how fast his heart beat, he told her. This was what happened when he got pissed off.
How about a walk around the block, she asked. Clear your head a little.
And when he said no, she looked down for a second.
He was worried that he had upset her.
So it was a relief when she raised a hand to touch, brush, caress his cheek for a moment.
Chalk. From plaster.
One hundred and ten, eleven, twelve.
ii)
He didn't mean to be insensitive.
He blamed the case; sometimes the adrenaline rush overwhelmed him so much that he was oblivious to people and their feelings.
When Catherine insisted on him getting her a plant, he grudgingly agreed, sounding like an idiot over the phone while addressing Veronica's Floral Shop.
"Yeah, hi. I'd like to get some flowers for a girl. No, no. Not flowers. A plant. A living plant. She likes vegetation. Yeah, that'd be fine. To a Sara Sidle. Deliver it at the CSI division, Las Vegas Police Department the one out on North Trop Boulevard. Yeah, you can bill me at the same place. Gil Grissom. The sentiment? Oh-oh, on the card. Yeah. Um, uh ... have it say ... have it say, uh ... 'From Grissom.' "
But it was only when Catherine had gone home did he call up the store again to change the order.
To a bouquet of roses.
iii)
She never did thank him for the flowers.
So of course he was worried, even more so when she gave him a chilly reception colder than the ice rink they were at.
Since when have you been interested in beauty?
He was going to say something about bugs, but then he caught the look on her face.
Since I met you.
