Int. Lounge
A beeper went off.
Dom inhaled sharply—he wasn't excepting that—but it did come at the right moment.
The majority of the group became distracted. However—Grissom continued to stare at him. Dom didn't meet his gaze, instead rather, choosing to look down at his hands. A loud audible sigh came from the other end of the table.
"It's Greg," Nick read off his pager. He looked at Warrick. They exchanged nods.
"Let's go," Warrick lamented. The two men stood up.
"We'd love to stay and chat—but we've got a vandalist to catch," Nick said with a grin. Catherine glared at him. He turned his attention towards Dom. "Yea—nice meeting you," he extended his hand. Dom looked up, slightly surprised.
"We-we'll talk more later," he replied, shaking his hand.
"Yea." Dom pursed his lips together, but held back a remark. He gave a slight nod to Warrick as the two men exited the lounge. He sighed heavily. He closed his eyes for a moment—as if trying to calm himself. He turned back towards the three.
"So—" he looked down at the table. He didn't want them to look at him. He couldn't handle their stares right now. He was panicking—and he had no idea why. He stared at the words on the paper—but he couldn't read them. 'Get a hold of yourself' he mumbled quietly. He took a deep breath in. That helped a little bit.
"Dom?" He twitched.
"Yea?" He looked at Catherine. She studied him for a moment. He seemed…afraid?
"You all right there?" He blinked. "You look a little—pale." He seemed perplexed by that statement—he was actually at a loss for words.
"I'm a—I'm fine," he gave a cheesy grin. She still eyed him cautiously. Grissom checked his watch again.
"I thought you said this was going to be quick," he reminded curtly. Dom made a face.
"It would be—minus the interruptions," he gave a small smile to Catherine, he didn't mean any harm. Grissom was not amused.
"Feel free—to continue at any time," he replied callously. Dom didn't look at him—he stared blankly at the world in front of him. His anger was rising. He exhaled slowly.
"Right sir—and if you give me a chance—I will in fact carry on," he tapped his pen on the table top. Grissom gave him a slight shrug.
"Then by all means—continue." He gave a weird smile. Dom looked at him for a moment, studying him. Grissom raised his eyebrows; taunting him. Dom became disturbed.
"O-o-ok," he stepped back from the table. "Any questions before I begin—again?" He looked expectantly at the three. They in turn; looked at each other. After a moment—Grissom raised his hand. Dom didn't even try to hide his shock.
"O wow-"
Grissom scoffed, causing him to receive a glare from Sara. He didn't notice.
"Y-yes—to the man in dressed in black," Dom pointed towards Grissom. The older man glanced quickly down at his outfit; then back up at Dom.
"What's wrong with black," Dom shrugged; tossing his pen on the table.
"Nothing—really—I-I was just saying-"
"Uh-huh." Grissom glared at him. Dom closed his eyes and gave an angry sigh. Grissom leaned forward. "Mr. Henley—I feel that you-"
"He has a point." Grissom slowly turned to look at Catherine—As did Dom.
'I do?' he mouthed. She shrugged.
"It could be a little—more…colorful," she leaned back in her chair. "That's all." Grissom frowned at her.
"That's all," he repeated.
"Well—" he eyed her warily.
"Dress code policy states—that employee wear should be modest and-"
"Non-obtrusive to other members of the staff—thus not interfering with their work," Cath finished for him; rolling her eyes. "That doesn't mean dress in black—every day—of every month—of every year."
Grissom looked down at his outfit again.
"What's wrong with black? They say it's a very soothing color-"
"And very slimming too," Dom chimed in.
Both looked at him for a moment; then shook their heads.
Sara gave a small laugh.
Dom made a face at her.
"Grissom—just because it's 'soothing', doesn't mean wear it 24/7," Catherine leaned forward. "I mean what's—what's wrong with some color? Some—life?" He paused, his face contorting into a frown.
"I do wear 'color'-"
"Dark brown doesn't count," Sara pointed out.
Grissom glanced over at her—she smirked; he scowled.
"Besides—"
"Gil," he looked back over at Catherine. "Live-n up a little. Wear some reds—or some blues," she drawled. "It'll be good for you." She clasped her hands together, and stared intently at him.
He leaned back in his chair slowly. He bit his lip nervously.
"What—what does that have to do with-"
"Yea—I know someone who could help you out," Dom interjected. "They're good—real good. They have good taste." Grissom glared at him.
Dom sat down quickly.
"Gil—just live it up a little. Wear a tee-shirt—or two. Wear some khakis-"
"Khakis?"
"Or jeans. Or just—something," Catherine sighed. "You'll feel better for it." Grissom blinked a few times.
"Feel better for it?"
Catherine gave a slight shrug.
"For what?"
She sighed.
"Black is so---depressing," she tapped her fingers on the table top. He remained quiet, looking down at the table. She stopped tapping.
She smiled.
"Plus—it'll give Sara something to look forward too."