Disclaimers: CSI belongs to their CBS & whoever else that owns them. OCs & plot belongs to me. Mixed alcoholic drinks belongs to themselves. @_@


Her name is Reeta Smith, with double e's instead of the usual 'i'. She always stressed on that little fact. From the hair, down to her nails, everything about her screamed 'unique' & she had intended to keep it that way. Her hair was dyed a nice shade of dark blue was cut short near the jaw line. In between there were streaks of red, a weird combo but she had pulled it off perfectly. Decked in a camouflage baby doll t-shirt & plain dark green cargo pants, she tapped her black painted nails  to the music. This was the first time I went over to check her workplace out. I hadn't mentioned my off day to her during our daily afternoon/evening meetings & skillfully diverted the topic of my work that night, deciding to keep my visit a surprise. Pushing my yellow-tinted glasses higher up the bridge of my nose, I slid into an empty seat at the corner of the bar counter, willing her to notice & take my orders.

"What can I get for you?" she yelled above the loud music in the background, her eyes still focused on the DJ on the other side of the bar.

"Tequila please," I yelled back. It was only when my voice registered in her ears that she turned to face me, wide-eye with surprise.

"Bobby! What're you doing here?? Don't you have to work today?"

"Nah…I didn't. It's my night off," I laughed. "Betcha a hundred bucks you didn't recognize me until I opened my mouth."

"I sure didn't! You look—"

"Yo, Reeta! Get him his drink & help me out here! Jeez…" the other bartender scowled.

"Sorry, Brian!" she shouted back. "Here's your tequila. I'll be right back."

"Go," I grinned as I shooed her away.

~~~

The rap-rock remix finally died down as the next DJ took center stage. Trance music drifted into the air very soon, taking the people's mood with it. All the aggressive behaviors seemed to dissipate into thin air as the bass line thumped gently in the background. This was, as Reeta had mentioned, a very busy place. The crowd continued to streamed in even as the night drew to a close. I had managed my 5th tequila by the time someone took a seat beside me. Not a lot of were there alone so the bar counter was relatively empty.

"Brian, my usual," a very familiar voice called out not as loud as I had to earlier.

"Got it," Brian slapped the coaster down in front of him & placed a tall glass of brownish liquid on it. The bar tender shook his head lightly & muttered. "Why would anyone get vodka coke? That thing is wrong dude… it's either vodka on it's own or coke on it's own."

"Be different, that's my motto," the same familiar voice answered cheerfully.

"Someone I know lives by that motto too," I interrupted softly, turning just in time as the man choke on his drink. And the person I knew with that motto stared back at me with the same wide-eyed look of shock as Reeta.

"Dawson? Bobby Dawson?! What are you doing here?"

"Could've asked the same question, Greg," I grinned.

"Woah, this is freaky Friday isn't it?" Greg Sanders returned my grin. "First, I didn't know we had the same night off. Second, I'd always figured you're the rifle range type of guy. Third, cool shades."

"We'd always had the same night off, didn't you know? I'll take the 'rifle range type of guy' as a compliment but I only go there during the day if I get up early enough. And thank you, I like my shades too," the spiky haired lab tech nodded before taking another swig of his vodka coke. "So, back to the original question. What are you doing here?"

"I'm a guest DJ here. Used to play a bit more last time but I can barely squeeze in a night. You know, someday I feel like sleeping in the whole day & not move unless absolutely necessary,"

"Yeah…I know how that feels like. In fact, I feel that way every other day," I laughed. "And I'd never thought you do turntables. Just now, I thought it was some punk still in high school mixing."

Greg raised an eyebrow. "I look that small?"

"Young. You look that young," I corrected. "But the point is, you & turntables? No one will believe me if I said I saw you,"

"I know, Bobby. I know," he gave a dramatic sigh & returned his empty glass onto the coaster before giving me an once-over. I only had on a black tee & a pair of jeans. What's there to look at? "Dude, you look positively not you. In a good way, I mean."

"Weird… it's amazing what these cool shades can do to someone isn't it?"

"Do you always dress like this outside of the lab?" Oh well, that's what you get for wearing those checkered shirts to work & something completely different away from work.

"Sans the tinted glasses, yes. Why?"

"Coz you look like your rebel twin even without the shades. So not Bobby Dawson,"

"Okay, so you're trying to say that the Bobby Dawson you thought you know is this dorky guy who likes to play with guns right?" I grinned. "Well, sorry to say it but the Bobby Dawson I know is this cool guy who likes to play with guns."

That got Greg howling with laughter. It wasn't until a full minute later he managed to calm down.

"That was great! Didn't think you were capable of that,"

"Of what? Cracking a joke?! I am fully capable of making one but hey, you're the resident joker there. I just didn't wanna steal your jester's hat from you," I dropped my joking tone to a serious one. "I can do it. You know I can don't you?"

And that earned me another bout of laughter. Yup, he knows I can.

"I see you made a friend," Reeta smiled approvingly. "With Greg Sanders no less."

"Yeah, well—"

"Wait…he said something about working in the forensic area too…" she gasped. "You work together?!"

I nodded & beamed at her. Poor girl, shocked by the same man twice today.

END!!!


Despite the "END" I wrote behind the 1st part, I think I need this to explain some stuffs—or I could just say it out now! This series basically talks about Bobby Dawson's life. Since he ain't one of the main characters in CSI, therefore there isn't much on him in the show. *shrugs* I thought it might be nice to put him in the "driver's seat" in my story for once. And since I'm obviously not a very good writer, I thought I'll tackle his life outside the lab which I'm more familiar with than inside the lab. Maybe after I get my diploma & managed to get into forensics too… *sighs* long way to go, gyuu-chan, long way… *brightens up a little* Anyways, I wanna sneak in my other favorite character, Greggo! Lol… so you have this 2nd chapter. I wouldn't call it a sequel if I were you. *wink*

Sorry if the jokes are lame to you. It was funny to me, so I guess that makes me lame. Oh well, we can't have the cake & eat it.

Thanks to vampie for being the 1st reviewer! *bows down* Hahaha… Do you know who is Bobby Dawson now?

Thanks to *&^%$#, whoever you might be. Lol… hope this chapter clears things up for you.

Read and review!!!

^_~