um, i dont have much to say for this chapter. Except that review button down at the bottom? Well, i loves you and wants you to click on it and write anything. :) So...hint hint, nudge nudge, cough. Uh, guess that's it. Enjoy!
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"Ready?" Greg Sanders asked, eyes bright.
"Yes." I said calmly, as opposed to his bubbly can't-contain-the-excitement self.
"Ok, brilliant. Come on." He said and walked into the spacious lab.
I walked in and took a look at all the equipment. Newer, cleaner, better than the ones at the Miami-Dade PD. I looked with a bit of envy at the lucky lab tech's stuff.
The lab itself was nice, open and clean. Much different than my old one in Miami. This one wasn't like the others, all glass, but one wall of glass and the rest wall. I spotted a nice big window with a view of the Vegas lights a little bit away.
"Oh, it's a very nice lab." I said, touching a computer's mouse. At the soft tap, the screen came alive and a Las Vegas PD wallpaper appeared.
"Do you like it?"
"Yeah. Will I get one like this one?" I asked, hopeful.
The young CSI laughed. "This is your lab, silly."
I grinned. "Really? Wow, it's great! A bit better than my Miami one."
"Glad you like it, Stokes." Greg said, sitting down in the swivel chair. "I used to work in here sometimes, so some junk does come in here pretty often. Meaning you'll be receiving lots of work from everywhere. Trace, DNA, all that good stuff. Minus tox and ballistics."
"I think I can handle it." I said, determined.
"Fantastic. There's your first pile." Greg pointed to the end of the table, where piles of test tubes, evidence envelopes, files, packets, and various items cluttered the desk.
It was more than I expected and I groaned.
Greg laughed. "Don't worry, I'll help out for today. As you can tell, we got very backed up with the pd's best DNA tech going into the field."
"Way to toot your own horn and sound conceited, Sanders." I teased, pushing the chair away.
Greg rolled to a radio on a table near the window and turned it on. "It's a talent, yes I know." He grabbed a lab coat and tossed it to me. "We better get started. Do you like mainstream junk?"
"I like everything."
"Awesome. Lemme find this awesome polka channel I found the other day. You like polka, right?" He asked seriously.
No. When I meant 'everything', I didn't really mean everything. "Uh, if you want." I said.
He just smiled and tuned the radio. "Time to pump up the volume."
I braced myself for the horrifying noises, but all I heard was a relieving guitar riff. I turned to Greg. "No polka?"
"I hate the stuff. Wanting to see if you did, and apparently your poker face sucked."
I laughed. "Ok then." I turned and started to separate evidence packets from the files, from the tubes, from the packets, everything in little piles.
Journey's "Don't Stop Believin' " came on the radio and I grinned, I loved that song.
I stepped back to assess the piles of work and tripped over Greg's foot. I landed on, of course, Greg's lap.
"Hai thar." He grinned slyly. "I knew you'd fall for me. Just didn't know you'd do it literally."
I blushed. "I did not fall for you. You tripped me!"
Greg's contagious laughter filled the lab. "Either way, there you are."
Getting up, I started on a pile of stuff--a couple fingerprints, hairs, and fibers--as Greg took the bloody stuff for DNA. The song continued and alone, I sang, but I didn't like to sing with someone around to hear me. So I hummed the lyrics and allowed myself to shuffle from foot to foot rather than dance.
"DON'T STOP. BELIEEVVVIIIN! HOLD ON TO THAT FEEEEEEEEEEELING!" Greg sang loudly as it hit the chorus.
I looked at him and he grinned at me, singing and then putting getting away from the microscope, he started to dance crazily.
Laughing, I joined in with the singing and Greg came over to me and grabbed my gloved hands, dancing with me.
I allowed myself to dance and sing with Greg for a minute, but pushed him back to the microscope as I kept working.
Songs came and we sang to the ones we knew, talking to each other, and sneaking peeks at each other when we thought the other wasn't looking.
I was having a blast, and as we sang to a Bon Jovi song, it abruptly ended during Greg's guitar solo.
Turning from my chair, I looked towards the radio and saw a scary creepy-looking balding mousy man standing at it, the plug in his hand. "Sanders!"
"Yes?" Greg asked, sheepishly.
"If I hear this radio from down the hallway again, you're going to be suspended for disturbing the workplace."
I rolled infront of Greg. "It was my idea to turn it on, not Greg's. Sorry. Didn't mean to 'disturb the workplace' " I said.
He looked at me, pleasantly surprised, now nice and polite. "oh. It's quite all right. It's usually Sanders disrupting the work environment with his music."
"Not today, it's me. Sorry…."
"Ecklie. Conrad Ecklie." He smiled, and held out his hand.
I took it confident on the outside, and slightly freaked on the inside. "Skye Stokes."
"Stokes? I didn't know Nick was married." He frowned.
"Ew, no no no!" I almost shouted. "We're cousins."
Ecklie looked relieved, which freaked me out and disgusted me. "Ok. You used to be with the Miami-Dade crime lab, yes?"
"Yeah."
"I've heard good things about you, Miss St-- Miss, or Missus?" He asked, curiously.
"Miss. I'm single." I replied.
He looked delighted and I spotted a wedding band on his finger. I wanted to clean myself now. "Miss Skye Stokes."
"Yeah. Now if you'll excuse us, we have to get back to work." I said as politely as I could.
"Yes, of course. Welcome to the LVPD."
"Thank you." I said, turning back to my microscope, pretending to find this DNA very interesting.
As soon as he did, I swiveled to face Greg. "Was that real?!" I said in disbelief.
"Yeah! Wow, that's disgusting. He was so checking you out." Greg commented.
I made a face, then pretended to gag.
"Tell me about it. But hey, I don't blame him, you're really pretty." He said, his adorable blush spreading on his face.
My own cheeks heated. "Thanks." I replied, turning to the microscope and adjusting the slide.
"Thanks for taking the heat for me."
"No problem." I said.
As I looked into the lenses, I had to adjust them often so my tired eyes could see the fibers. I sat back and yawned. "What time is it?"
"10pm." Greg looked at his watch.
"It'd be midnight in Miami."
"We worked through half of this junk. Why don't we take a breather and get some coffee?"
"Ugh, office coffee? It's not even coffee, it's brown water. At least that's what it is in Miami. But then again, I could use it, even if it is crap."
"Oh, break room coffee here sucks too." Greg assured me. "But I have my own coffee from my own stash. It'll be the best coffee you ever will drink."
I gave him a doubtful look.
"Trust me." The young CSI said.
Looking into those deep brown eyes, I nodded. "Ok. Sounds great."
Getting up from his chair, he smiled at me. "You'll die and go to coffee heaven."
Doing the same, I said, "We'll see, Sanders."
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