Feasibility Study
Written by: Ms Maggs / Edited by: KJT
"Bugged – Part 1"
July 27, 2005 (Day 96)
Colorado Springs Doubletree Hotel and Conference Center
Room 233
9:12 a.m. MST
Grissom, dressed for the day in khakis and a short-sleeve denim shirt, stood in the doorway of the bathroom watching Sara style her hair. She looks radiant, he thought. But I can't tell her. If I tell her, she'd interpret it as proof of a pregnancy glow. Not that I don't want it to be true. On the contrary, I want our little project to be a success as much as her but someone has to be the voice of reason and it's not going to be her so it will have to be me.
Lost in her beauty, he couldn't take his eyes off of her. She looks so different this morning…so vibrant. It reminds me of the first time I saw her at Berkeley. I wanted her then and I want her now…right now. Damn we have to be downstairs in fifteen minutes. If didn't have to be downstairs I would…
"Are you just going to stand there gawking at me or are you going to say something?"
Instead of mentioning her glow or his mounting desire, he opted for a joke. "You're really going all out this morning, Boom Boom. Are you working today?"
"As a matter of fact yes." Finished manipulating her curls, she picked up her mascara. "My most demanding client has decided to parade me around at a bug convention and I have this sneaking suspicion some of his colleagues will be studying me like an ant under a magnifying glass. Hence the extra effort." After coating her left lashes, she moved on to the right. "Do you think he'll approve of my outfit? I wasn't planning on being on display when I packed." Only intending on having fun, not attending his lecture, she was concerned it was a little too casual for the professional setting.
"Dress code on the last day is always relaxed because it's a travel day. The whole atmosphere is laid back. You'll see, some people even wear shorts." Reviewing her appearance, he added, "Personally I appreciate those cute jeans and what do you call that kind of shirt?"
Getting in the Entomological spirit she answered in technical form. "Its scientific name is a chiffon camisole shell. It is of the family, sleeveless shirts. Its coloring is blush pink and its common name is sexy little thing." Sara laughed. "I only know the technical name because Carrie was shopping with me when I bought it. That girl is a fashion nut. When Nick marries her one day, she's going to spend his money like water."
Finding her comment amusing, he teased, "Hey, Pot! Before you call the kettle black, answer this for me. Who bought that sexy little thing you're wearing?"
"I did." Knowing she was busted, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. "But, you paid the bill when it came in the mail. Point taken. In my defense though, and you know this, I put most of my money last month into my philanthropic backpack project so when I went to buy this shirt..."
"I was joking, Sara. I wouldn't have given you the credit card if I didn't want you to use it and it's not like you spend a fortune. Besides, what's mine is yours." He grinned. "Isn't that obvious after last night? I gave you everything I had."
"Don't worry; I'll give it back in nine months."
"Sounds fair."
Holding her lipstick, she commented, "Do you think it's weird we don't have a financial system? I mean most married people probably have…"
Trepidation accompanied his reply. "Are we going down this road again?" Ever since the Sara Grissom thing had come up an hour ago, it was on his mind…along with that ridiculous Boom Boom Boom song.
"My comment had nothing to with the Sara Grissom thing if that's what you're thinking!" She huffed. "That was a silly slip, not a desperate plea for you to make an honest woman out of me when I'm pregnant. Oh great, now you're going to think…"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Now it sounded like she felt cheapened by their arrangement. "Is something bugging you?"
His choice of verb diffused her tension. "Is something bugging me?"
He relaxed with her. "You can take the boy out of the Entomology conference but…"
"They are two separate issues…commitment and finances." Leaning against the counter she lowered her head and defined her insecurity. "How do you think our financial and living arrangement appears to outsiders since we're not legally married? When two people are married and the woman lives in an expensive house her husband bought and spends his money, she's called a wife. Where does that leave me? Look at the jokes Catherine and the guys make about me being a 'kept woman'. I know they're kidding but you know the proverb…many a true word is spoken in jest. While the people closest to us know the truth, other people who don't, may think otherwise."
Stepping into the bathroom, he placed his hand under her chin and lifted her gaze to his. "You never told me you felt this way before. It was never my intention to make you feel…"
"I know. And I didn't mention it before because it never bugged me before now." Again the anxiety evaporated with the play on words. "It was a combination of things this morning toying with my mind, that's all, and yes…one of them was the Mrs. Grissom thing. It's ridiculous. Ignore me." A forced smile emerged. "I blame the pregnancy hormones."
"The house is ours. It's ours legally on paper, and in spirit. You're not my guest, Sara." Taking her hand he gave it a squeeze. "I provided the money but you turned the house into a home."
Feeling silly, she sighed. "Like I said, it was a momentary lapse of insecurity, not about you and me, but about how other people perceive me. The strange is, I never cared what people thought but now that we're bringing a child into the equation…I'm over thinking, this just forget it."
Hoping to joke her out of her funk, he said, "If it will make you feel better, you can pay the electric bill."
"Are you kidding?" Laughing, she slid her arms around his waist. "I'd need to ask the boss for a raise to afford our electric bill during the summer."
"Just so we're clear, I buy you things, not to keep you around, but to make up for all the gifts I didn't give you over the years." He wound his arms around her waist. "Remember the Entomology text I gave you that first Christmas you were in Vegas?"
"Yes." At the time it was the best Christmas she had in years and his gift was cherished.
"When I was searching your apartment during the Tahoe nightmare, I saw that book and realized I never gave you another personal gift in the four years following because I was too afraid it would trigger a feeling or start a relationship. Think of all those holidays and birthdays and anniversaries we should have been celebrating." Tenderly he kissed her. "So I spoil you. I think you earned it for putting up with me all those years."
"Battle pay?"
"Exactly." He stole another kiss. "Are we okay about this?"
"When we go downstairs, I'll go shopping in the gift shop, charge it to you, and let you know if it bugs me."
From her smile he knew they were fine. "Speaking of bugs. We've got five minutes."
"Hey, when you were packing to leave for this trip you told me there were cliques. How about giving me a breakdown? Like how you told me about the opera so I knew what to expect."
Leaning against the door frame, he attempted to explain the complex structure. "Well, there are two classifications…the professional and the social. The professional hierarchy is based strictly on accomplishment in Forensic Entomology. At the conference, there are also students and non-forensic entomologists in attendance, but they are the bottom feeders only here to dabble. You know, all those forensic crime dramas on TV get people interested, so they come to check out the field." Huffing he folded his arms across his chest. "As if those TV shows paint a realistic picture of what we do."
"Those shows are hilarious." In between lipstick applications, Sara inquired, "So, where are you on the food chain?"
"Professionally?" He grinned. "Top five in the country. At this conference, because the top three aren't here, Pete, who you met in the hallway last night, and I have the highest ranking."
"So, I'm the special guest of the top bug geek. That sounds so much better than prom queen." After blotting her lips, she turned to Grissom. "Now tell me about the social structure."
"It's a microcosm of the real world…married, single, partiers, gossipers, the usual stuff, the only difference is we know an Orthoptera from an Odonata."
"Which is exactly what classifies you as bug geeks." She laughed. "Anyone I should avoid?"
"Marge Andrews, the queen of gossip."
"Anyone I should meet?" She gave a light chuckle. "Well, I definitely want to meet Cathy so we can compare notes on how it felt to ask you out and get shot down mercilessly."
"I think she's over it, because she informed me on Monday that she married a cop named Luis, whom she met at a crime scene." Recalling the moment, he added, "She also made a point of telling me he was much younger and hotter than me."
"Them's fightin' words." Finished with her beautification process, Sara drifted by Grissom to find her black mules in the bedroom. "I'm going to have to kick her ass for that."
"I'm flattered." He followed her into the bedroom grinning.
"Oh yeah…Cathy and I are going to go at it like two Ceruchus Piceus!" Crawling on the floor, Sara found one of her shoes.
"Very good choice…stag beetles are quite territorial and vicious." Joining her on the expedition, Grissom kneeled and lifted the bed skirt to search for the matching shoe. "How did you know that?"
"Oh please." Facing him she cocked her head. "Do you have any idea how many times I read that Entomology book you gave me?"
Las Vegas Crime Lab
Jim Brass's Office
8:34 PST
Coffee mug in hand, Nick reported for his regular Wednesday morning status meeting with the boss. "Sorry I'm late." He took a seat in one of Brass's side chairs. "Had to wrap up a few things from the night shift."
"Did it make you misty hanging with the old crew?" Brass settled back in his chair.
"It was really comfortable." He sighed. The Day Shift Supervisor position, although he loved the challenge professionally, was a hard adjustment. "Very different group of people on Days sometimes I feel like the enemy."
"They're all Ecklie minions and you were with me when we busted Ecklie. You are the enemy. However, you'll win them over eventually." Brass sipped his coffee. "You're doing a good job rehabbing them, but Rome wasn't built in a day remember? They've been programmed for years to be uptight, political, Ecklie kiss-asses. And when Ecklie was promoted he brought in that carbon-copy friend of his from San Diego and messed them up even more."
"I was thinking," Nick's smile took a devious turn. "How about I move one of my people to Nights so Grissom doesn't have to hire anyone, and then I can bring in some new blood on Days?"
"Budget's frozen temporarily, so we can't hire, but who did you have in mind?"
"Sofia Curtis."
"No way in hell is that going to happen." Jim burst out laughing. "Can you imagine Catherine working with Sofia? Sorry my boy, one diva per shift is the department rule."
"I had to try. She bugs the hell out of me! Oh…that's kind of unprofessional to say."
Brass laughed it off. "I wasn't listening."
Nick lifted his mug. "Aren't you in a cheery mood this morning, boss? Have another adventurous night on the town? Greg told us about your favorite hang out…the Lunar Lounge. Sounds stellar."
"What do you think? I party every night?" Adjusting his tie, Brass informed Nick of the cold hard truth. "Nah, I'm an old man. I went home and spent the entire night in bed."
Colorado Springs Doubletree Hotel and Conference Center
9:40 a.m. MST
Side by side, walking down the hallway towards the banquet room, Sara and Grissom could hear the buzz of Entomologists chatting over pre-meeting coffee like bees around a honey pot.
"I'm going to make like a moth and blend into the background." Sara informed her mate as they rounded the corner to the gathering area. "If you need me, signal me with your antenna."
That's when they heard it…utter silence.
Noticing one hundred sets of eyes bearing down on Sara, Grissom whispered, "I, uh…think blending may be a little more difficult than you imagined."
A minute later there was a flurry of activity as wallets were pulled out and money exchanged.
Marge Andrews, a fifty year old forensic entomologist from Boston and the quintessential gossip of the group, was the first to make contact with the foreign species presenting itself. "You must be Sara Grissom," Marge excitedly announced while extending her hand. "We've heard a lot about you in the last hour." And while she analyzed the creature she thought…Pete was right, she has to be at least fifteen, maybe twenty years younger than Gil and could she be any thinner! Suddenly, a glint caught her eye…what a stunning diamond band on her hand. That ring was a prize alright, and not from a Cracker Jack box.
Sara could hear Grissom's anxiety rising at the mention of the name and she rushed to fix the situation. "Actually, it's Dr. Sara Sidle." Smiling warmly, she returned the handshake.
The term doctor surprised Marge. Everyone had assumed Grissom's secret wife, since she wasn't a reclusive nerd, was a vapid gold digger who had exploited the man's need for companionship. "MD or Ph.D?"
"Ph.D, Physics, Berkeley."
Marge couldn't argue with those credentials. "And what do you do for a living?"
"I'm a CSI for the Las Vegas Police Department."
Marge turned to the small group forming behind her. "Hey! She's one of us!" Relieved that they weren't being infiltrated by a non-scientific bimbo, Marge softened. "Bugs or blood?"
"Blood, but I'm getting used to the bugs."
Sara listened to the buzz build beyond her and at one point, she swore someone said, 'And you thought she was a hooker!'.
Grissom, on the other hand, stood back and enjoyed the looks on the other guys' faces, knowing his days as a monk disguised as a scientist were definitely over. He particularly savored Ron Grant's envious expression.
Ron is the ladies man of the group, and always one to cut other, less socially successful guys down. On Monday night at the group dinner, Ron had tossed out a particular cutting round of comments but now it was obvious Ron was stunned and perhaps jealous. Grissom's grin broadened. Take a good look, Ron. She's mine.
Suddenly he understood Sara's erratic behavior in San Francisco a little better. It did feel good to be socially normal for once. There was no denying it was a base emotion but nevertheless, Grissom indulged it. As a scientist he couldn't deny the basic principles of human nature and as a human being he couldn't deny he had a primitive side. Yes, for once he wasn't just the smartest guy in the room. He was the smartest guy with a life and that life included an intelligent, witty and gorgeous girl! Oh yeah…take that, Ronny.
"Conference room is open," The hotel employee announced.
Reluctantly the crowd stopped gawking and started filing into the room.
"We'll talk more later," Marge informed her as she moved away, taking her groupies with her and leaving Sara and Grissom alone.
Sara turned to Grissom and saw for the first time the delighted look on his face. "Hey, Sugar Daddy," She teased, "it's me, your trophy wife. You're enjoying this so much it's bugging me."
Kim Trang, the conference coordinator approached. "Dr. Grissom, your presentation materials are ready for you to review and the podium is set. Here is your nametag for the day and one for your wife. You have twenty minutes. Is there anything else you need?"
Sara stared at the tag. Written in bold green letters was the name, Sara Grissom. "He may need some oxygen." Chuckling, she shoved the nametag in her purse.
"Oxygen?" Kim gasped.
When she noticed Kim's panicky assumption that something horrible was about to happen and ruin her perfectly orchestrated conference, Sara quickly corrected, "I meant water…for the podium. Water…oxygen…I get those scientific terms mixed up sometimes."
When Kim dashed off to check the water supply, Grissom postured. "Hey, Pot! Two words for you…Miranda Anderson. Who set this precedent? I was your Shakespeare-quoting, distinguished gentleman before you were my trophy wife."
"Quid pro quo? Is that what this is?" Laughing, Sara once again knew she was busted. "So you want me to work the crowd, maybe charm the men with my knowledge of decaying corpses?"
"In a word…yes." Grinning, he walked away, "Now if you'll excuse me, my public awaits."
"Oh, Dr. Grissom," Sara called after him, and then approached. "If you recall…to make up for your outstanding effort in San Francisco, I danced for you that night. I'm going to require a similar payment this evening."
Choking on the words, he said, "I doubt you'd find my dance performance enjoyable. As a matter of fact, I'm positive it would make you rethink procreating with me."
"I said a similar payment." Leaving him wondering, she walked behind him and seductively whispered, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lecture to listen to, and I don't want to miss any of it, because I think the presenter is an intellectual genius and I'm hot for his brain. Gee…I hope he won't be able to tell I'm crushing on him out in the audience because I will be. Who am I kidding? He won't notice me because I'm just a wannabe student hoping he'll teach me a thing or two."
"You got that right; I'm impervious to your school-girl charms." He cracked. "So get moving, Sidle."
When Sara entered the meeting room alone, she decided to try her moth-like strategy. Fading to the far corner of the room, she took a seat at an empty table. Since she was one of the last ones inside, she hoped it would stay empty.
A minute later, Sara saw Grissom enter and take his place in the front of the room. There he stood, reviewing his presentation materials and chatting with some colleagues, while the group settled down in their respective seats. Just like at Berkeley, she found herself crushing on him from the audience. Of course she knew it was related to the intimacy they shared the night before, not reliving a silly co-ed fantasy. Her focus slipped to last night's intense love making and before she knew it, she was twisting the cap off a bottle of water provided on the table and taking a gulp. It was July she reminded herself, that's why it was so hot in the room. Yeah, right.
While Sara was lost in the moment, a co-ed wearing her auburn hair in two low ponytails plopped down beside her. "Hey." The girl, wearing a UCLA t-shirt knotted at the hip and denim shorts, tossed her binder on the table. "No one was sitting here, right?"
"Uh…" Sara snapped out of her daze. "No."
"Cute camisole. That's a great color on you. I have one just like it in blue." The girl whispered. "Were you here the last two days? I don't recognize you."
"No, I just flew in for today." Sara found the experience amusing because when she first arrived at Harvard for her freshman year, girls like this one…Misty Carson, according to her conference nametag…was exactly the kind of girl, cool and confident, who wouldn't have given her the time of day.
"Too bad. You missed a hell of a night last night. Ron Grant planned this thing at this bar. There were about twenty of us. Totally fun. I'm hurting this morning though, one too many drinks. That and a severe lack of sleep." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I hooked up with this guy from Tampa. His name is Scott. He's over there in the black shirt…" She grabbed Sara's arm. "Don't look. Don't look! He's looking right at us."
"I'm not looking." Sara chuckled at the girl's giddiness thinking, how cute, she's twitter painted. She could relate.
"He's a professor at UCLA." Misty giggled. "This is his t-shirt. I know what you're going to say…he's too old for me."
Suddenly very curious, Sara searched the room for Scott in the black shirt. "Uh…how old is he?"
"Thirty-five. I just turned twenty-one."
"Let's see that's…"
"You too huh? My friends are always making fun of me for dating older guys." She wrinkled her nose. "You think it's too much of a difference?"
Sara finished her sentence. "Fourteen years? Nah." Her eyes turned from Scott to Grissom. "It's fine. As long as you're intellectually and socially well matched, age is irrelevant."
"You sound like you're speaking from experience. Have you dated any of your professors?" She giggled. "It's okay, you're in good company. I kind of have this thing for professors."
Sara found the girl's candor alarming. "Uh…we don't even know each other, don't you think you're sharing a lot of information?" Another reason she stayed far, far away from girls like Misty in college. They always wanted to share.
Actually in addition to the awkward overshare and obvious prying, the truth was, Sara was annoyed at the girl's question. Annoyed because it brought back memories she'd rather forget and had blocked for a long time. Memories relating once again to Harvard, and the 'looking for love in all the wrong places years'. Specifically, partner number five…Professor of Organic Chem, number seven…Professor of Sociology, and number nine…Professor of Art History. All in their thirties while she was eighteen…nineteen and a ripe old, twenty. And while Sara didn't want to share anything with Misty, she didn't mind prying. "Um…why do you like dating professors?"
Leaning closer to her new pal, Misty was more than happy to explain her predilection for professorial partners. "Bottom line…they're smart enough for me. I know that sounds like I'm really full of myself but hey, we're all smart or we wouldn't be at this conference, right? Where did you go undergrad?"
"Harvard."
"Very nice." Misty nodded in approval. "I'm at Stanford. But back to your original question, apart from their intellect, they know how to treat a girl like a lady. The dates are much more sophisticated because they appreciate finer things. There's the stability angle…they have jobs, money and experience. Most of all, I like how they take care of me, rather than looking to see what I can do for them all the time." She winked. "Not that I don't take care of them." Misty tossed a ponytail off her shoulder. "I know, I know, what would Freud say?" She laughed. "Oh, and I forgot another important detail…they buy much better gifts. Check out this Tiffany bracelet." She dangled it in front of Sara's nose. "It's a keeper."
Up until that last part, Sara was feeling better about the conversation. "Um…we should really stop talking because the presentation is going to start soon and I want to review my notes."
Misty turned her attention to the front of the room. "Yeah, this guy, Dr. Grissom, he's a great presenter. Scott said he's the smartest guy here. Apparently he's kind of a loner though. You know, one of those guys who is a little too into his job, if you know what I mean. There's a few of them like him at this conference."
Sara relaxed. Finally something good to ponder…Grissom's superior intellect and his quirkiness, which she always found strangely appealing. In silence, she chided the young co-ed. Nothing wrong with being into the job, being a little obsessed with one's work and oh by the way Misty…he's got a few other really good qualities that I'm not going to share with you. Once again, she was happily crushing on her man from the back of the room.
Misty nudged Sara. "But…he's kind of handsome for an old dude, don't you think? I mean WAY too old for us, but still…there's something about him that kind of attracts me to him. See…it's the professor thing. I'm so bad!" Giggling she said, "I should really go to therapy!"
She wasn't sure which was more disturbing, the fact that perky little twenty-one year old Misty was checking out Grissom or that she had just declared him an old dude. "Um…how old do you think he is?"
"He's got to be pushing the big five-o." She shrugged. "My dad just turned forty-seven and they look about the same age." Yet another disturbing thought. Grissom was older than Misty's dad, which would make Grissom old enough to have a child Misty's age. Then she did the math. Grissom could have been making kids for over thirty years! Actually, longer but she was sticking with a socially responsible age minimum. Good god, Greg could be his son! It was a bizarre realization, but one she quickly decided wasn't relevant. No…no…the age thing definitely doesn't bug me. It never has. Quickly she redirected. "And how old do you think I am?" Sara cautiously asked.
"Twenty five? Twenty-six?" Misty smiled. "I took you for a grad student. Harvard too?"
"I just finished at Berkeley." Sara relaxed. Okay she just thinks I'm much younger than I am. Hee hee…wouldn't Catherine be jealous to know this girl thinks I look ten years younger than my age. That is an unbelievably catty thought for me, and yet I know Catherine would admire me for thinking it. Catherine really is a bad influence on me at times, but I'll forgive her because she's taught me so much and I know she's in Grissom's ear all the time giving him clues about our relationship. Okay that's a little strange too, but it works for us, so I'm not going to analyze it.
Moving her eyes off Misty, Sara focused them on Grissom who was still conferring with someone in the front of the room. Yep, in less than two months I'll be the big three-five and that's not WAY too young for Grissom. It's your magic fourteen year number, Misty. So maybe you and Scott have a chance because it's perfect for Grissom and me. Yeah…it works for us. We work. And last night we worked beautifully.
A smile exploded on Sara's face as she joked with herself. It must be the glow of pregnancy giving me a more youthful appearance. Yes, last night's endeavor was a success and the changes were already starting to show. Even though she knew it was scientifically unsubstantiated, it was fun to be flighty for a change. It was fun…like early this morning when Grissom was on the floor helping me find my shoe and I kissed him, knowing he would get frustrated because we couldn't continue. Ha! He's such a morning person! I so much as look at him in the morning and he's good to go.
As she watched him she swore she was blushing. Oh yeah…if only Misty could have seen Grissom in bed last night, she'd know age was irrelevant. Then she realized how absolutely twisted her thought was and shivered. Not what I meant! I didn't mean for her to literally see him.
Misty grabbed a bottle of water. "How ridiculous, we haven't introduced ourselves." She displayed her nametag. "I'm Misty Carson. Where's your nametag?"
Proud of her man, Sara decided to grab the Sara Grissom nametag out of her purse and shock the hell out of Misty. Yes, Misty, he's mine all mine. He's intelligent, charming and knows how to please me in every way imaginable. As predicted, when she fastened the nametag on her shirt, the girl gasped and covered her mouth. "Yeah." Sara nodded. It was obvious Misty was impressed.
Misty cringed. "I feel so awful for talking about Dr. Grissom in front of you. I mean, how gross is it to hear me talking sexually about your father! I'm so sorry!"
For the first time ever, Sara understood what Greg meant when he used the term, 'squicked out'. There was really no other way to describe the horrifying feeling overwhelming her. "Um…"
Marge Andrews sailed by with a silver bowl of chocolate. "A little something special for the presenter's wife." She set the treat on the table and kept on walking.
"You're his wife?" Misty asked in disbelief.
Suddenly Sara felt compelled to share. "I'll be thirty-five in seven weeks and there's nothing paternal about my marriage. If you don't believe me, I'll give you the number of my therapist." Now that was an overshare!
"Um…" Misty collected her books. "You know, Scott's flagging me to come sit with him so uh…nice meeting you."
Relieved to be alone to die her slow painful death of embarrassment, Sara reached for the chocolate bowl and started popping the raisinette-like candy into her mouth. At least she'd die on a chocolate high. Okay, that wasn't too weird, she tried to convince herself. She checked her watch. The presentation is supposed to start in two minutes and once it does my mind will be occupied with the Shelton case. Until then I will continue to eat this chocolate while forgetting Misty's squicky comment about Grissom. Wow this chocolate is really good. I wonder what kind it is?
"Honey." Grissom whispered as he bent down beside her. "I noticed from across the room you were eating a lot of that chocolate, and I think you should stop."
Sara stared at him. Coming over here to tell me I'm eating too much candy is not helping purge the squicky parental thought! Then she realized he was concerned about the baby…too much chocolate was bad…she remembered that from the books. Finally the world was right again. He was her loving husband, future father of her child. Whispering, she tenderly said, "Aww…you're worried about our baby."
"What?" He grabbed a piece of candy from the bowl and held it up. "No. These are chocolate covered ants and you're a vegetarian."
"Oh!" Her hand flew over her mouth. New squicky thought! "Oh!"
Grissom's voice filled with concern. "I thought you weren't going to wear that nametag?"
"I've got ant guts coursing through my digestive track and that's your biggest concern?" His angst over her having his name was really starting to bug her.
Next Episode: Bugged – Part 2
Teaser: And yet there are still so many ways to get bugged…