3: Biting Wit

"So. Sam," began CJ ominously, drawing out his name as if it were three syllables longer.

"Leave me alone?" he tried pathetically, burying his head against his desk again. It didn't work.

"I hear you've been a busy boy," she continued, and he could hear the smirk in her voice.

"I just want to die. Can I just die now?" he mumbled into his desk.

"Feeling playful, was she?" He groaned. He should have known Josh wouldn't be able to keep this to himself for long.

Josh snorted. "Who was she, Hannibal Lecter's little sister? She didn't have a T-shirt that said 'bite me', did she?"

Sam forced himself up into a sitting position and tried blearily to focus. "She was just... a girl," he said defensively. Sitting up turned out to take too much effort, and he thudded back against the desk. "I am never dating again," he said miserably.

"See, this is exactly what happens when you're too cheap to spring for dinner." Josh was finding this entirely too damn amusing.

"Could I please have some sympathy here?" Sam pleaded pathetically. "I have a monster headache, I have a speech to write, I have- I have- I have teeth-marks in my shoulder-"

That was too much for the pair of them. They both burst out laughing, hugging each other because they were laughing too hard to stand up.

"Oh, I'm glad somebody finds this amusing," he retorted sharply. "I am in actual pain here. I could have rabies or anything."

"Rabies?" That set CJ off again. Normally Sam loved the sound of CJ's throaty laughter, but today it was only grating on his tortured nerves.

"What kind of girl was this?" Josh demanded. He snickered. "Was she a dog?"

CJ tried to thump him for that, but she was laughing too hard and missed. "I'll have you know she was extremely attractive," Sam insisted, wounded.

"Yeah? Wet nose, nice shiny coat, that kind of thing?"

"Josh!"

Josh and CJ had successfully reduced each other to quivering jellies. Sam regarded them for a few moments, then stood up, shoving his chair back against the wall. "I'm going," he announced, and stormed out.


He wanted nothing more than to go home and crash in bed, but it was still too early. It wasn't even dark out. It was still technically summer, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd left the office when it was still daylight.

Sometimes, he missed California. Like now. California had no speeches that needed writing, no pissed-off Toby, no sniggering Josh and CJ, and most importantly, no girls with some weird biting fetish.

Of course, being nice polite Sam Seaborn, he hadn't said anything. What were you supposed to say, anyway? 'Excuse me, did you mean to do that?' Or 'hey, sorry, I don't really go for having chunks of my flesh ripped out'? That was really supposed to go without saying.

"Why can't I ever meet any normal girls?" he moaned to himself, as he headed down to the cafeteria for some much-needed peace and quiet.

He didn't get it. Ainsley was already there, fiddling with a hand-held fan and eating something disgusting.

"Ugh, how can you?" he groaned, slumping into a seat across from her. Right now the very thought of food turned his stomach.

"I'm a growing girl. I need food," she announced.

What is it with you? Tapeworm?

Of course, he didn't say it out loud. No, he was Sam Seaborn, all-round nice guy and champion of women's rights.

I hate being the nice one.

"Rough day?" she said without much sympathy, pushing aside the remainder of her meal and moving immediately on to a fruit yoghurt.

"The roughest," he agreed, sipping on his lukewarm water.

"You should try working down in that furnace," Ainsley told him. "It clunks, it clicks, it drips water, and it's a hundred and three degrees down there."

"At least it doesn't bite," he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You should go home," she said, licking up the last of the yoghurt pot in a gesture he was too depressed to find fascinating.

"My country needs me," he reminded her.

"To do what? Die for it? You look like you're about to."

"Thank you, Ainsely," he called after her as she left. "You've been a real pick-me-up."

She waved in acknowledgement, and disappeared. He contemplated his glass of water for a moment, and wondered if he poured it out into a puddle on the table he'd be able to drown himself in it.