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Penelope jumped as the doors to her office slammed opened, smacking either side of the wall. "Scott Matthews. Works at St. Judes in California. I want everything you can dig up." Penelope stammered wordlessly, neon orange fluffy pen stalled in midair. "Garcia, now." Rossi growled. "Ye… Yes sir. Right away sir." If she thought he was going to leave her office to allow her to work, she was dead wrong. In fact, he annoyingly paced her office while she typed, stopping only a few times to hover wordlessly at her shoulders to peer at the screen. "Well?" his impatient growling near inches from her ear sent shivers down her spine. "Uh.. um. Never been arrested…" A snort "He had a few parking tickets in the city…"

"Penelope, DOB?"

"Uh.. November 6th, 1968… Never been married, no children… Parents died in the Eighgties…"

"A 44 year old that's never been married? Talk about commitment issues. Maybe he's gay."

Penelope let out a low gasp, she didn't know this Rossi. Derek is about to turn 40 and he's never been married… She couldn't let the thought in her mind. Derek didn't have commitment issues… did he? He was just… having fun?

"Oh, sir. I don't think that just because a man hasn't been married before there is something wrong with him…" Penelope timidly laughed, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Penelope. I'm a man. The only reason a man doesn't commit to a woman before that age is because he's a serial dater and can't be happy unless he's got a different woman in his bed every night." With one hand on his belt and another held out in front of his face he shoved open her office door and let it slam behind him.

Garcia's mind swirled with images of multiple women in Morgan's bed… mouth hanging slightly agape, she somehow immediately knew Rossi was right. Morgan would never only love her… Their tryst this last weekend had probably meant nothing to him… A tear rolled over her cheek as she stared blindly at Scott Matthews profile on the screen in front of her. And suddenly she needed to warn Emily…

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Once settled in his desk, Rossi opened up the dossier obtained from CIA headquarters earlier in the afternoon. Resigning not to go home and brood about the stupid cancer prick on a date with Emily, he decided to work on the open case. As the manilla cover opened, a bright pink note fluttered out and to the ground, a sticky note folded up into a sort of Origami.

"What the hell…" Rossi bent to pick it up.

Call me, we should get drinks tonight.

Sara

A dumbfounded Rossi turned the thing over and over in his hand, trying to remember who Sara was. You nimwit, you've been too focused on the cancer prick… the doe-eyed blonde with long legs in the tight skirt at Langley… Understanding slowly dawned on him. The girl that had been smiling unashamedly at him had also left a note to call her and get drinks…

Without hesitating another moment Rossi picked up his office line and punched in the numbers on the pink sticky note.

"Sara speaking."

"Hi Sara it's David Rossi." He smiled, in an effort to convey cool over the phone.

"Oh! Hey… " Her voice brightened noticeably. "You got my note."

"I did. Very creative." He turned the silly thing over in his hand again and listened to her feign an embarrassed giggle. "How does Maloney's sound? 8p.m.?"

"Can't wait! I'll take a cab and meet you there."

"Great. See you at eight then." He hung up with an odd sense of regret. "I'm old enough to be her father, Emily." Had he really said that only a couple hours ago? And was it true? Was he about to take a woman out for drinks half his age? Things aren't what they used to be… this game is for the young people… Derek immediately came to mind. Derek! I should speak to Derek…