In the VIP room we began sorting through the bag and documenting the contents. Although we hadn't talked about anything except the case since my loaded comment, I took some solace in the fact that Sara seemed to be standing even closer than she normally did to me. As Dave unloaded the decomposition body, his belongings, and dumped the remaining 'human soup', Sara and I were in constant contact with our shoulders, especially since she kept twisting around in reaction to the horrid smell of the decomposing body. However, right after the appearance of the human soup we both became antsy and excused ourselves from the room.
After working an hour or so on our separate tasks I went in search of Sara to talk to her about what had been left unspoken before. As I approached the room that I knew she had taken the jacket to, I slowed and looked through the window, revelling in the sight of her for a brief moment. She had her head down and was meticulously scraping away at something. I steadied myself and walked through the door. "Hey, how's Liquid Man doing?" I ask, immediately reacting to the foul stench polluting the air, stinging my eyes and assaulting my nostrils. I had meant the greeting to be light and airy and just to break the ice before diving into more personal stuff but Sara pushed my selfishness out of my mind as she corrected me.
"You mean 'Mr. Cartsen'? I found this. It's a nametag." Her new lead made my Casanova state-of-mind take the back seat to CSI Stokes. I pulled on a pair of latex gloves and we began playing verbal ping-pong about the guy's name. As we were talking I absently checked the pockets of the army jacket and removed a rectangular orange object from within, emitting a squeamish groan in the process. "What do you got?" I had her full attention now.
"I don't know. I can't read an address or a phone number…" I respond as I hold it up for closer inspection. The smell seemed impossibly worse as I fiddled with the small bundle. Apparently it was the last straw for Sara, I noticed her face pale even as she attempted to spit out one last sentence.
"God, it reeks! QD should be able to, uh… to bring something up," and with that she whirled around and threw up. I watched with concerned while she turned around but respectfully averted my gaze as she emptied her stomach contents into to trash can. It was all I could do to prevent myself from running over and rubbing her back soothingly. She turned around a minute later wiping her mouth with a half-embarrassed, half-ashamed smile donning her face. "Don't tell anyone," I couldn't decide whether it was a statement or a firm question.
"'Bout what?" I spoke with a tender, low tone and a straight face to show her that she could trust me. I glanced back down at the object still in my hands for a moment before returning my gaze to her face and smiling gently. She didn't mirror the gesture this time. She just let out a frustrated grunt, looking very disgusted with herself. I was trying to think of the proper way to assure her that I thought no less of her when I heard the door.
Hank, looking fresh off the set of Top Gun, strode into the room with a dopey smile stuck on his face. Who did this guy think he was? Barging into any room without knocking first was bad enough, but to do it to a room where evidence was being processed and he had no business being near? I glanced over at Sara to see what she thought of this rude interruption. To my dismay, she was too busy mirroring his stupid smile to notice. I glanced sadly and silently from him to her as they made a brief exchange, Hank quickly backing out of the room after Sara gave him an out. Apparently he couldn't handle the stench what a baby!
"Give me a mint." Sara demanded as soon as Hank had shut the door behind him.
"You're going to need more than one," I reply through a chuckle. It was childish, I admit, but I tried to make her feel self-conscious before she went out to speak with him. I hoped that she would cut the conversation short out of fear of her breath… not that that would be a major factor considering the other aroma that had attached itself to her.
"Just give me," she snapped, not finding me amusing anymore. After she left the room I let out a long pathetic sigh. I was very tempted to steal over to the door and eavesdrop on what they were saying, but fear of being caught prevented me from moving. I briefly debated leaving the room: I didn't really want to see her happy reaction to Hank's invitation to go out. However, if I did leave right then, I'd run the risk of walking out in time to witness the even firsthand and I didn't think I'd be able to handle it.
So I lazily prodded the object from the jacket a little longer, trying to figure out what it was. After no more than five minutes Sara strolled gloomily back into the room, complete with slumped shoulders and a prominent frown. "Not go well?" I asked a little too cheery for either of our likings.
"I smell," she replied simply, scowling at me for my tone as she resumed her quest on the name tag.
"Not to me," I offered her a sheepish grin, which surprising won a faint smile in return. Ever the believer in ending on a high note, I gestured towards the door. "I'm going to drop this off at QD. I'll check in with you again later." I put the object in the proper packaging to avoid contamination and left of the room smiling.