Greg and Anne were seated at a table near the bar when Greg noticed Anne looking towards the door. He followed her gaze and saw that she was watching a red head approach their table on the arm of a tall, dark haired man who, in the right clothes, might make a convincing pirate.

"Dee," Anne said and waved at the woman who looked at her quizzically.

"What are you doin' over here?" Dee asked. "Scruffy here got us a good table."

"Stop calling me that," the man said, turning his head away.

"Then shave."

"Do you know how many times a day I'd have to shave to make you happy?" he snapped. "If you can do better, be my guest."

"If you want to let me get near your face with a razor blade, I'll do it."

The man opened his mouth as if to speak and quickly closed it again. There was a moment of silence.

"That's what I thought," Dee said.

Greg looked helplessly at a smiling Anne, who merely shrugged and whispered, "Yeah, they do that."

"So come on," the man said. "It's by the patio."

"Come on," Dee said and followed the man, who as yet had no name, to the table by the large bay windows over looking the city.

"Come on," Anne said and stood to follow her friend.

Greg stood and stared at his empty chair.

"Come on," he said to it and followed Anne to the table that Dee and the man led them to, amazed that anyone could get a table this good with out being V.I.P. But, for all Greg knew, the man was V.I.P.

"This is Tim, by the way," Dee flung over her shoulder to Greg.

Tim merely waved his hand at Greg, without looking at him.

Once they were seated, a waitress came to the table and flashed them an award winning smile.

"Before we order," Tim, "who's driving?"

"We could get a cab," Anne suggested.

"I'm not leaving baby alone in this neighborhood," Tim whined.

"If we'd have taken a cab in the first place like I suggested," Dee muttered.

"Look," Tim began, "I've had enough of your lip for tonight."

"Well, how about we nose game driver!" Anne shouted, touching the tip of her nose with her finger.

Before the word nose was half out of her mouth, Dee's hand shot to her face, touching her own nose. Tim followed suit, leaving Greg the only person at the table not touching his face.

"You can drive stick, right?" Tim asked him.

"What just happened here?" Greg asked in response.

"You just lost nose game," Dee responded and told the waitress she'd have a Long Island Iced Tea.

"Captain and Coke," Anne ordered.

"Tequila and a Tecate," Tim ordered.

"And for you?" the waitress turned her smile to Greg.

"None for him," Tim answered. "He's driving."

Greg shrugged helplessly at the waitress and asked for a Coke.

"Sure thing, hun," she said and walked off.

"For future reference," Dee began, "When you hear the word nose and any of us are around," she motioned around the table, "it might be a good idea to touch your nose. As a precaution."

"It's something you learn pretty quick," Tim said.

"Greg!" someone shouted from the front of the club.

Greg looked towards the voice and was surprised to see the feisty red head that was Catherine Willows walking in his direction.

Oh God, no! his mind screamed. Spies!

"Who's your girlfriend?" Anne laughed at the look on his face.

"She brought friends," Dee said and Greg saw Nick and Warrick following close behind.

Well, there goes the neighborhood.

Greg knew that he wasn't a bad looking guy: he was fairly tall, blonde, and his body wasn't too shabby in his opinion. But he also knew that he in no way compared to the Greek God physic of Nick Stokes or the strong, muscular form of Warrick Brown. He knew he paled in comparison, not in his eyes of course, but in those any woman within three feet of his two co-workers.

"Catherine," Greg forced a smile. "I didn't know you had the night off."

"I figured a night on the town couldn't do any harm," Catherine smiled. She took a seat, uninvited by any of them Greg noted, at the table.

"And you brought company," he said, trying to keep his voice light.

"Well, what would it look like if a lovely lady hit the town alone on a Friday night?" Nick asked as he too pulled up a chair.

"Man, I just felt like going out," Warrick laughed and took one of two remaining chairs.

"Tim Speedle," Tim said and opened his arms to the group. "Welcome to my table."

"Catherine Willows," Catherine introduced herself. "Nick Stokes, Warrick Brown," she motioned to Nick and Warrick respectively.

"This is Dee," Anne said and pointed out right to her friend.

Catherine didn't miss the way Greg's face lit up as the young woman smiled.

"I'm Anne," she pointed to herself and grinned. "And you're from the lab."

"Yes we are," Warrick said, flashing a rarely seen smile.

"Uncle Gil sent you to baby sit," Anne said, hitting the nail on the head it seemed to Greg.

Catherine didn't know what she'd expected Grissom's niece to be like, but the girl had Grissom's smug, self assuredness pinned.

"In a manner of speaking."

"The manner in which I'm right," Anne laughed.

Greg laughed with her and Nick gave him an odd look.

"Well, there go any questions about whether they're really related or not," Nick said and smiled at Anne and her friends.

"What'll ya have?" the waitress interrupted as she placed drinks before her first customers.

"Who's driving?" Nick asked.

"Greg," Anne, Dee, and Tim answered in unison, causing the four of them to burst into laughter.

"I see," Warrick said. "You guys must have started early to be letting Greg drive," he joked. "We're getting a cab."

Dee waved her hand to Tim, indicating that he should've listened to her in the first place.

They each ordered a beer and listened to the music.

"So, your mother is Grissom's sister," Nick was saying to Anne. Just as Greg had known she would be, Anne seemed to be hanging on his every word.

"Yeah," she answered. "She's almost ten years younger."

"That's quite a difference," Catherine said.

"Yeah, well, different dad's," Anne replied. She seemed somewhat annoyed to Greg.

"Oh," Catherine said. "You were born in Vegas?"

"I was born in Michigan. Detroit." She sipped her rum and Coke. "My mom was an art major at U of M."

"Pricey," Nick said.

"Am I being interrogated?"

"No," Warrick said, casting a somewhat embarrassed look towards his colleagues. "It's just . . . Grissom is a mystery to all of us. We're just trying to . . ."

"We're just being nosey," Nick admitted.

"In our defense," Catherine said, "we're investigators, kiddo."

"Don't call me kiddo," Anne laughed. "We've just met. And all you guys have to do is ask out right. What do you want to know?"

Catherine looked from Nick to Warrick to Anne.

"Does he sleep?" she asked.

"Do the lights ever go out in Vegas?"

"You owe me ten bucks, my friend," Nick laughed to Warrick.

Greg sat back and unconsciously gauged her reaction to the mini interrogation, though he was mostly gauging her reaction to Nick and Warrick. Upon realizing what he was doing, he scolded himself inwardly for being such a wuss.

"Hey!" Anne said suddenly, grabbing Greg's upper arm and startling him from his thoughts. Clearly, she was excited. "Listen."

He turned his head to watch her nod to the beat.

"Hot Hot Heat," Greg said, just as excited.

Without another word exchanged, the two expressively launched into the chorus, both bobbing their heads and swaying in their chairs. As they sang, much too loudly Greg knew, Anne stood and held her hand out to him. After a split second of hesitation he took her hand and together, they made their way to the crowded dance floor.

Catherine allowed herself a small smile at the couple on the floor. She laughed at the expression on Greg's face as Anne took his hands in hers as they moved across the floor.

Their little lab rat looked smitten.