Disclaimer: I don't own the show or characters nor doI plan to make money with this.
Cite Your Source
"Do you want fries with that?" droned the fast food server.
"Umm," Grissom cleared his throat.
"We didn't order anything," Sara told the girl behind the counter, raising an eyebrow with a smirk on her face.
The girl shrugged.
"Sorry, the track on my brain skipped. It happens when my brain goes numb from work," she said.
Grissom pulled a picture out of his pocket and showed it to the girl.
"We're CSIs from the Las Vegas crime lab. Have you ever seen this man?" he asked.
The girl looked at the photo for a moment.
"Yeah, guy stopped in here last night. Wasn't dressed like a trucker, though," she said.
"What was he dressed like?" asked Sara, curious as to why this girl would remember the garb of a customer from the day before.
"He was only wearing a leotard. Looked like he was out of some twisted ballet where performers were scrawny guys with hair on every inch of their body."
"Hmm, do you remember anything else? Did he seem nervous or did he appear to be comfortable?" prodded Grissom.
"Uh, well, he was relaxed enough to scratch his balls and adjust himself while ordering," said the ever helpful server. She snorted to herself and, after receiving a questioning look from Sara, added, "He stuffed his crotch. I saw the rolled up sock while he adjusted."
Grissom couldn't seem to think of anything to say to that, though he seemed to be picturing it. Sara rolled her eyes at his thoughtful expression and turned back to the server.
"What time did he come and when did he leave?" Sara asked.
"He came in and got his order right before my 10:30 break. Ordered it to go, so I assume he left, but I don't know."
"Thank you for your time," said Grissom as he put on his sunglasses.
-
Getting into the Denali, Sara looked over at Grissom in the driver's seat. He was clearly th deep in thought, pursing his lips together in what she called his "kissy-face".
"Was it ever mentioned that Mack is a cross-dresser?" Sara asked, after a moment of silence.
Grissom glanced over at her, eyebrows raised.
"You'd be surprised what men fail to mention to the outside world," he answered cryptically. Sighing, he focused on her question, "No, I don't remember cross-dressing coming up."
"I'll call Brass, see if someone suddenly remembers Mack's little gender issue," said Sara pulling out her cell phone.
"Yo, Brass, it's Sara. Just talked to a witness from last night. We have reason to believe our Mack wishes he was a Mary. Catch ya later."
Smiling, Sara turned to Grissom. She faltered when she saw his eyes on her.
"Just because a man enjoys wearing women's clothing, doesn't mean he wants to be a woman," Grissom said somewhat curtly.
"Uh, okay Gris," said Sara. Hoping to get him back into a friendly mood, she decided to have him share his knowledge on cross-dressers.
"Cite your source," she said, the first thing that came to mind.
"What?" squeaked Grissom.
"Your source," Sara repeated. "What magazine or documentary did you see that talked about cross-dressers?"
"Oh, um, there was a show on the Discovery Channel a few years ago," Grissom said, looking out his window.
"A show?" Sara snorted as Grissom started up the car. "What was it called? Was the focus only on cross-dressers?"
"I don't remember," he mumbled.
"You can remember where you read anything and expect me to remember details from cases that happened before I was born, but you can't cite your source on this? How about you at least give me a summary of the episode?"
"I'd rather we change the subject," stated Grissom with finality.
Sara sighed and threw her hands up in surrender as Grissom turned on to I-15. As the awkward silence became almost unbearable, Sara's phone rang.
"Yeah?"
"Hey, Sara, it's Brass. I got your message. Greg thought maybe Mack buys clothes from around there since he seems comfortable going out like that there."
"Hmm, good point."
"That's what I said. After the kid recovered from his faint, I ordered him to check out area stores to see if any sold leotards for men. Male leotards would have to be kind of different from the female versions for support and comfort reasons, you know?"
Sara chuckled.
Brass continued, "Here comes that crazy kid now. Whoa, Greggo, watcha got?"
There was muffled talking on the other end of the phone as Sara waited for Brass to get back on the line.
"Sorry Sara, but it was worth the wait," said Brass, startling Sara enough that she jumped and Grissom looked at her.
"There is a store off exit 44-B called World Clothiers. Apparently they get some special stock and you can buy during the day or once a month, they open up at night so the shy cross-dressers can get their fashion on," Brass continued.
"All right, we'll check it out," said Sara.
"Just a note, they are protective of their customers' identities. It may take some persuading to get them to talk."
"Thanks, bye."
"Bye."
Sara turned to Grissom, "There is a store around here that sells to cross-dressers. Since our guy was comfortable wandering about in his dream outfit here, he may have gone shopping there at least once."
Grissom remained silent, eyes on the road.
Sara sighed, "Take exit 44-B and look out for World Clothiers."
Grissom nodded tensely.
"What's up with you, Gris?" Sara asked, at the end of her patience. "I'm sorry I teased you about not being able to site your source, but you've been freaked out since you corrected me on the trans-gender iss…
"Wait a second, you don't, your not…" Sara asked as she whipped her head to the side to look at Grissom's profile.
"Just because a man likes to look pretty, doesn't mean he's gay or transgender," Grissom said through gritted teeth, desperately wishing he was anywhere but here.
"Oh, of course not," said Sara, realizing that this was extremely awkward for Grissom and now would not be a good time to laugh at a picture of Grissom in a tutu that popped into her head.
Without looking at Sara, Grissom asked, "How long will it take to get to the store? How many miles do we have left?"
Please R and R...