Chapter Seven

Really Short Random Thoughts

Disclaimer et al see first chapter.

Prompts from LosingInTranslation: mallard, impressions, scout, commencement, and gingerbread.

"What was that noise?" Sara inquired when she walked into his study.

"'Duck's Unlimited's website. I was reading about the anas platyrhynchos and clicked on 'click here to listen'."

"A duck?" She questioned.

"A mallard. The female is especially vocal..." She quit listening as he quoted from the computer screen. Sara stood, hands on her hips, staring at him.

"Well, you were especially vocal this morning while we were in bed."

"Ass."

"What? You were." He stood and took her into his arms. "I think I can make you do it again." Then they began to kiss.

"The dead guy did impressions?" Brass' tone was sharper than Gil had heard in years.

"Well, this is Vegas." The suspect answered without answering the detective's question. "He worked for a time as a lounge act. When he did Elvis or Frank or even Liberace, you thought they were still kicking, you know. Damn he was good. Not as good as that Gagnon dude at the Venetian, but still…"

Grissom got up and looked down at the man, "Well, he's not kicking anymore and the evidence places your DNA and fingerprints in the victim's vehicle."

"I want a lawyer."

"You were a boy scout, Hodges?" Sara tried not to laugh as those words left her mouth.

"Actually no, the scout master in my hometown was my mother's first ex-husband. So, she didn't want me around him."

"How many times was your mother married?" Sara's interest perked up.

"4." Hodges said so quietly Sara almost didn't hear his reply.

"Which was your dad?"

"The second one. Can we, ugh…get back to the evidence?" David Hodges blushed and went back to his microscope. "I didn't mean to imply a knowledge that I don't have first hand."

"S'okay."

As Sara Sidle walked through Harvard Yard on her way to the commencement exercises, she tried to contain her enthusiasm. After a grueling undergraduate study program, she was finally leaving Boston for good.

It wasn't that she hated it there, she was just so lonely and was happy to be going back home to California. And her bags were packed; what she didn't keep, she'd sold and her old clunker of might make the 3100 mile journey before it fell apart completely.

She just knew that something good was going to happen to her at Berkley and she couldn't wait.

It was a slow shift. Sophia and Greg were helping day-shift sort through some garbage. She and Grissom were sitting in the break room.

Sara snacked on gingerbread cookies and juice while he read a journal while occasionally sipping his coffee.

"Do you have anymore cookies?" His question startled her.

"Sure. Want one?"

He nodded, reaching for her offered cookie. Their fingers brushed with the exchange.

"Did you know gingerbread was first brought to Europe during the Crusades and can be dunked into port wine?"

"Grape juice, not wine." Sara smiled.

"I know, Sara." He smiled back.

To be continued…Reviews are appreciated…: )