"Who wants the honor of picking from the hat?" Nick asked. The mood in the room had changed considerably--Grissom was hunched over on the couch, sharing it with no one, since a) the scowl on his face meant it really wasn't worth attempting it, and b) Sara had moved across the room to brood over a cup of coffee. Everyone else in the room was pretty much taking their cues from those two. What Nick hadn't counted on was Sara's style of brooding.
"I'll pick." Sara shot up out of her chair, obviously relishing the fact that her back was facing her boss. She hadn't yet actually patted her ass, inviting Grissom to kiss it for all she cared, but the implication was there. Sara was out to prove something to someone, it seemed. She thrust her hand violently into the hat, and Nick had to struggle to keep it upright and intact.
"Spin the bo-" Sara broke off. "WHO put this back in here?!" she demanded.
"As if we didn't know," Warrick whispered to Catherine. Sure enough, a way-too-cheerful-for-the-current-mood Greg popped up out of his chair and spoke.
"I did!" He quickly whipped something out from beside his chair, plopping it down on the table as he said, "Ok, who's first?"
It was a bottle.
"Greg, I don't think-" Catherine's gentle chastisement was interrupted by a terse sounding Grissom.
"I'm NOT kissing Sara...err..." he broke off, obviously embarrassed by his Freudian slip. "...Anyone in the room," he was saying, but Sara had already reacted to his insensitive comment.
"I'm not kissing Grissom, either."
"That's ok, you can kiss me!" Greg was either oblivious to the growing strain in the room, or too stupid to notice it, depending on whose thoughts you were reading at that particular moment.
After a long, volatile glare at each other from across the room, Sara broke eye contact with Grissom and started for the hat again.
"Woah, woah," Nick started to protest, fearing for the sanctity and safety of his hand, should she attempt to pick a new piece of paper. Catherine saved him from the threat by getting up, leading a still-angry Sara to her seat, and picking a fresh paper from the hat. If anyone had ever doubted her mothering abilities, they never would again. Somehow she'd managed to sit Sara down and take control of the situation--without even losing any limbs in the process! Catherine tried to stop her cheeks from warming at the look of pride and respect that Warrick was sending her way, as she read,
"Chubby Bunnies."
Looks of confusion all 'round.
"Would anyone like to explain this game? The person who...chose it, perhaps?" Catherine sounded like she was interested, but wasn't quite sure what the game entailed.
"It sounds like some game where you stuff your shirt with a pillow and hop around," Warrick laughed.
"Not shirt, Warrick--mouth. With marshmallows, not a pillow." Nick laughed along with Catherine and Greg at Warrick's imaginative description of the game, while Grissom still huffed on the couch, and Sara pretended she wasn't interested. Nick rummaged through a cabinet; so far back was he searching that nearly all of him that was visible was shins and feet. He emerged not long after, bearing two large bags of marshmallows, one full of large sized marshmallows (like the kind for S'mores), and one full of mini-marshmallows (like you'd put in hot chocolate).
"Wait," Warrick objected, "this isn't the kind of game where you have to switch a marshmallow from your mouth to someone else's, without using your hands, is it?"
"Don't worry, Griss--we know," Greg interjected, bravely. "You don't want to share a marshmallow with Sara."
Grissom looked over at the young man, and instead of making him angry, Greg's comment just brought home to him just how harsh he had been to Sara. If Greg could stand up to him, and make that comment, it must have been a pretty harsh thing to have said to her. He was at a loss to respond, but Nick spoke next, granting him a reprieve.
"No, Warrick, wrong again!" Glancing over at Grissom, Catherine was glad that she wasn't the only one who thought Nick was a little too enthusiastic about his game. She also sent him a slight encouraging smile, hoping he'd choose to rejoin the group soon.
"Here's how to play," Nick said. Holding up the bag of mini-marshmallows, he broke it open, and spilled a couple out on his palm. "The goal is to stuff your mouth with a bunch of these," he said, actually placing the seven or eight marshmallows in his mouth before speaking again. "athd bfee afble tho thay 'Chubby Bunnies.'"
"The 'Chubby Bunnies' part I understood, but..." Catherine started.
"-the rest was pretty unintelligible," Warrick finished for her. "What did you do, practice that part?" Nick blushed as he chewed, holding up his hand, showing a gesture meant to stand for, 'a little.'
"Wait, I can translate!" Greg shoved his chair back and positioned himself on it cross-legged, holding himself to a posture mimicking a gypsy staring into a crystal ball--in his case, the 'ball' was a hackey-sack.
"Here, Greg--" Grissom said, surprising all of them, not to mention himself. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his keys, detached something from his keychain, and tossed it at the lab tech. His 'crystal' ball must have been working, because Greg caught it one-handed.
"Oh, sweeet!! A Babel Fish!!" He held up the little object, imagined up in a Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy book, and asked Grissom if it really worked.
"The batteries died," his boss winked. Sara noticed this new development with a little less rancor than she would have, five minutes previously.
"Greg, give that back before Griss starts answering '42' to everything," Nick said with a laugh. "And before anyone else starts editorializing me, I said 'and be able to say.'"
"I think you mean, tried to say," Catherine teased.
"Does anyone else find it amusing that Nicky couldn't say 'and be able to say' but said 'Chubby Bunnies' perfectly?" Sara couldn't help but point this out.
"I'd say its more ironic than amusing." Warrick's comment got them all chuckling, even Grissom.
"It looks like you two forgot who the GAME MASTA was," Nick said, pompously. "So for your indiscretions, you get to pick between you to see who will go first."
"I'll go," Warrick offered. "How many did you have in your mouth? One? or Tthfoo," he jibed, mimicking Nick's inability to enunciate.
"I had nine, 'Rick, and I can't WAIT to see you spitting marshmallows, trying to say something!" Nick was looking forward to this, considering that it had taken nearly two years for him to perfect his talent at this game. The punishments his frat had come up with for failure might have had something to do with it, as well. Texas in general, and Houston in particular may have a reputation for hot, sultry days, but the nights could be quite cold. Especially in your skivvies.
"I could do this in my sleep," Warrick boasted. He grabbed the mini-marshmallow bag and started dumping some on the table.
"Well, you've got one thing going for you," Catherine noted. "Your mouth is a lot bigger than Nick's."
All eyes focused on her.
"What?!" She said, refusing to let the scrutiny faze her. "It's not like I kissed them to find out!"
Four raised eyebrows, and a wolf whistle.
"Thank you, Greg," Catherine said in sarcastic appreciation of his aural contribution. "Enough talk--Warrick, start stuffing!"