Brennan and Booth are at the Farmer's convention:
"Gross, what's that smell?" Booth said.
"It's the people, Booth. The spend all day around all this farming equipment and the fertilizer and the animals, the smell is very organic." Brennan replied.
"Oh, is that what they call it?" Booth says sarcastically, scrunching up his nose.
They approached a table at the head of the building. "Excuse me, I'm looking for who's in charge here." Booth said to a chubby man behind the table wearing a funny belt buckle. "You're lookin' at him!" The sweaty man said. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his head with it.
"Your excessive sweating is probably a result of your obesity. Carrying around all that extra weigh puts a strain on your muscles and bones." Brennan told the man.
Long pause.
"Is she serious? My family has been well fed since my great great grandparents. Back in the day it was a sign of wealth! Are you serious?" the man said, obviously getting angry.
"Serious as a post." Brennan said.
"It's dumb as a post, kay Bones? Why don't you just let me do the talking?" Booth said.
"Hey what do you want, besides just to insult me?" The man said. "I have every right to kick you out!"
Booth whipped out his badge. "FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth, this here is my partner Dr. Temperance Brennan of the Jeffersonian. I'd like to ask you a couple questions."
"My apologies, sir. August Bernstein. Ask away." The August said, shaking Booth's hand.
"Do you know George Stewart?" Booth asked.
"Heck sure I know him. He co-owned this place with me."
"Does he have any enemies?"
"George is known for cheatin' people out on their purchases, even cheatin' on his wife, but recently he's been tryin' to take over the convention from me. It's a family business since 1884! Ugh, gets me all worked up just talkin' about it." He said, pulling out the handkerchief again. "Why, did somethin' happen?"
Brennan leaned over and mumbled in Booth's ear "Booth, that's motive for murder."