A few hours later, Samantha and Danny returned with a not only a lot of
notes to catch everyone up on, but also a few leads that needed following.
Excited for the sudden turn the case was taking, Samantha hurried over to
Jack's office, where she found Vivian and Martin standing outside, looking
cautiously at the door.
"What's going on?" she asked, momentarily forgetting about Carrie Richards. Vivian sighed and pointed to the door, when a sudden crash caused all three to jump. "What's going on in there?" Samantha asked, staring wide- eyed at the door, where another smash sounded, complete with breaking glass.
"We don't know," Martin sighed, "But he's been at it for almost half an hour now. We don't want to just go in..."
Samantha stared at her coworkers in amazement.
"What's wrong with you two?" she asked, shaking her head. "He might be injured in there, and you won't even check on him? What's your problem?" she demanded, clearly disgusted at them both.
"Well, we can't just barge in there," Martin said nervously, while Vivian just raised an eyebrow.
"What Martin means is that we don't have that kind of relationship with Jack that...other agents might have where they would feel comfortable interrupting Jack at what seems to be a..." Vivian chose her words carefully, "...difficult time for him," she finally finished.
Samantha knew what Vivian was insinuating, and wasn't in the mood to hear it. "Augh!" she grunted, reaching for the handle. Martin grabbed her hand.
"Hey, be careful in there," he said seriously. Samantha shook him off and pulled the door open.
"Jack?" she asked, stepping in and closing the door behind her. "Jack, what's the matter?!" she exclaimed, stepping towards the sobbing man with his head down on the desk. "Jack?" Samantha tried again, putting a hand on the back of his head, which snapped away from her hand quicker than a candle blowing out.
"MY PICTURES WERE CROOKED!" Jack sobbed, a slight lisp tainting his usual gruff New York accent. He pointed to the smashed photographs on his desk. Samantha looked confused.
"So...what? Someone was in here while you were out?" she asked, trying to catch Jack's drift.
"NO, someone wasn't in here," Jack replied in a mocking voice. "It means whoever runs this office has no sense of style! No taste!" Jack stood up, outreaching his arms to motion around the office. "No...flair!" he finished, looking at a baffled Samantha.
"Uh..." she began, not sure what to say, but Jack cut her off again.
"And my name isn't JACK," he said, the New York accent vanished and the lisp more pronounced now that he had finished crying, yet prounouncing his name in an overly gruff New York accent. "It's...Jacques," he said, pronouncing the name in an exaggerated French accent after what was supposed to be a dramatic pause. Samantha just stared.
"And just LOOK at this suit," he howled, while prancing around his office. "I mean, ugh, WHO dressed me?" he moaned, looking down at his simple black suit with his favorite red tie. "Was he blind?! Is he DEAF to what these colors are SCREAMING?! DEATH!!!" Jack screamed, causing Samantha to jump back. "I am NOT going to a funeral any time today...well," he looked down and fingered his suit. "Maybe the funeral of these clothes..."
"But Jack," Samantha started, while Jack held up a finger and gave her a dark look. "I mean, Jacques," she corrected herself, "That's your favorite suit!" she said, shaking her head, suddenly wondering why she was talking with Jack about his wardrobe when there were several hot leads burning holes in her hands. "Here," she said, thrusting the papers at him. "Have a look at this," she said, trying to change the subject back to work.
"Ugh, look at what? I'm a bit busy now, darling," Jack said, sighing. "You wouldn't happen to have an emery board, would you, dear?" he asked, while extending his fingers to examine his nails.
"Uh...n-no," Samantha finally answered, realizing that there was something seriously wrong with her boss.
"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter, anyways. I have a manicure to go to at three anyways," he said, smiling at Samantha. "Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea for you either, sweetheart," he added without a hint of subtlety. Samantha blinked several times before taking her papers back and promptly backed out Jack's office.
Waiting outside the door for her were Vivian, Martin, and Danny, too. The three agents looked expectantly at her, while she slammed Jack's door.
"Well?" Danny finally asked.
"Just don't get caught calling him Jack," Samantha murmured, handing them each some papers to sift through before they began following up on her leads. She quickly hurried to her desk to make some phone calls, leaving the three adults standing in front of Jack's door, staring after her.
"What do you think she meant by that?" Danny asked, skimming the paper Samantha had handed him.
"I don't know, and I'm not sure I want to find out," Martin replied, flipping pages. "Come on, let's go see this Dennis guy," he said, steering Danny away towards the elevator. "We'll meet back here around five and touch base, okay, Viv?"
"Sounds good," she replied, feeling uneasy. The case was shaping up nicely, but something was up with Jack, and she was sure it had something to do with him leaving the hospital early.
"What's going on?" she asked, momentarily forgetting about Carrie Richards. Vivian sighed and pointed to the door, when a sudden crash caused all three to jump. "What's going on in there?" Samantha asked, staring wide- eyed at the door, where another smash sounded, complete with breaking glass.
"We don't know," Martin sighed, "But he's been at it for almost half an hour now. We don't want to just go in..."
Samantha stared at her coworkers in amazement.
"What's wrong with you two?" she asked, shaking her head. "He might be injured in there, and you won't even check on him? What's your problem?" she demanded, clearly disgusted at them both.
"Well, we can't just barge in there," Martin said nervously, while Vivian just raised an eyebrow.
"What Martin means is that we don't have that kind of relationship with Jack that...other agents might have where they would feel comfortable interrupting Jack at what seems to be a..." Vivian chose her words carefully, "...difficult time for him," she finally finished.
Samantha knew what Vivian was insinuating, and wasn't in the mood to hear it. "Augh!" she grunted, reaching for the handle. Martin grabbed her hand.
"Hey, be careful in there," he said seriously. Samantha shook him off and pulled the door open.
"Jack?" she asked, stepping in and closing the door behind her. "Jack, what's the matter?!" she exclaimed, stepping towards the sobbing man with his head down on the desk. "Jack?" Samantha tried again, putting a hand on the back of his head, which snapped away from her hand quicker than a candle blowing out.
"MY PICTURES WERE CROOKED!" Jack sobbed, a slight lisp tainting his usual gruff New York accent. He pointed to the smashed photographs on his desk. Samantha looked confused.
"So...what? Someone was in here while you were out?" she asked, trying to catch Jack's drift.
"NO, someone wasn't in here," Jack replied in a mocking voice. "It means whoever runs this office has no sense of style! No taste!" Jack stood up, outreaching his arms to motion around the office. "No...flair!" he finished, looking at a baffled Samantha.
"Uh..." she began, not sure what to say, but Jack cut her off again.
"And my name isn't JACK," he said, the New York accent vanished and the lisp more pronounced now that he had finished crying, yet prounouncing his name in an overly gruff New York accent. "It's...Jacques," he said, pronouncing the name in an exaggerated French accent after what was supposed to be a dramatic pause. Samantha just stared.
"And just LOOK at this suit," he howled, while prancing around his office. "I mean, ugh, WHO dressed me?" he moaned, looking down at his simple black suit with his favorite red tie. "Was he blind?! Is he DEAF to what these colors are SCREAMING?! DEATH!!!" Jack screamed, causing Samantha to jump back. "I am NOT going to a funeral any time today...well," he looked down and fingered his suit. "Maybe the funeral of these clothes..."
"But Jack," Samantha started, while Jack held up a finger and gave her a dark look. "I mean, Jacques," she corrected herself, "That's your favorite suit!" she said, shaking her head, suddenly wondering why she was talking with Jack about his wardrobe when there were several hot leads burning holes in her hands. "Here," she said, thrusting the papers at him. "Have a look at this," she said, trying to change the subject back to work.
"Ugh, look at what? I'm a bit busy now, darling," Jack said, sighing. "You wouldn't happen to have an emery board, would you, dear?" he asked, while extending his fingers to examine his nails.
"Uh...n-no," Samantha finally answered, realizing that there was something seriously wrong with her boss.
"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter, anyways. I have a manicure to go to at three anyways," he said, smiling at Samantha. "Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea for you either, sweetheart," he added without a hint of subtlety. Samantha blinked several times before taking her papers back and promptly backed out Jack's office.
Waiting outside the door for her were Vivian, Martin, and Danny, too. The three agents looked expectantly at her, while she slammed Jack's door.
"Well?" Danny finally asked.
"Just don't get caught calling him Jack," Samantha murmured, handing them each some papers to sift through before they began following up on her leads. She quickly hurried to her desk to make some phone calls, leaving the three adults standing in front of Jack's door, staring after her.
"What do you think she meant by that?" Danny asked, skimming the paper Samantha had handed him.
"I don't know, and I'm not sure I want to find out," Martin replied, flipping pages. "Come on, let's go see this Dennis guy," he said, steering Danny away towards the elevator. "We'll meet back here around five and touch base, okay, Viv?"
"Sounds good," she replied, feeling uneasy. The case was shaping up nicely, but something was up with Jack, and she was sure it had something to do with him leaving the hospital early.