"Maybe we could do a musical episode?" Shane pondered out loud, in the way the deities have. "That could be interesting. Maybe even a topless musical episode?" He looked at Deeks who promptly peeled off his shirt. There was a loud thud as the script girl collapsed onto the floor in a dead faint. "Nothing wrong with giving the audience what they want." Shane's phone pinged as it received an incoming text message. "And it seems the audience also wants to see you in a wet-suit, surfer dude."
"I can do a wetsuit." Deeks knew this would display his magnificent physique to great advantage and flexed his muscles, just because he could. It sounded as if a low rumble of thunder greeted this display, but it was only all the other female crew members keeling over with delight. Even Shane wasn't that good that he could conjure up atmospheric effects at a whim. Not unless the sound department had been primed well in advance.
"And I can help him take it off," Kensi volunteered nobly, being a generous and selfless soul, who definitely knew which side her bread was buttered on. "That was you get two for one – Deeks in tight neopryne and shirtless Deeks." She could definitely see the attraction in that.
"I like that. I like that a lot." Shane thought this girl was definitely going places. Notonly did she have great ideas, she was into saving money too. What could be better? These explosions didn't come cheaply after all – but they were so darned good, they were worth it.
"Me too." Deeks was especially keen on the idea of Kensi peeling his wetsuit off very slowly indeed. Maybe using her teeth?
"And I can do the lead vocals in a musical episode." Sam strode back onto the set in a tearing rage, having discovered that Callen was strongly in favour of his partner becoming totally speechless. Like that was going to happen any time he was still breathing
Shane looked at him curiously, almost sure the man was familiar. "Got any experience in that department, mate? Handy with a wobble board, are you?"
"You want me to sing while standing on a wobble board?" Sam knew Australians had a reputation for being slightly eccentric, but Shane was taking this to new levels.
"You don't stand on a wobble board – you play it." He clocked the blank expressions. "Like Rolf Harris? The Aussie cultural icon? Jake The Peg? Two Little Boys? Tie Me Kangaroo Down?" The blank expressions changed to ones of complete and utter befuddlement. "Whoever said Australians lack culture clearly never met a Yank. You're worse than the Poms. Let me just say that you haven't lived until you've heard Rolf sing Stairway to Heaven."
"I can sing," Sam informed him. "I'm quite well known for my singing, actually."
"If you call it singing." Callen could see all his great plans disappearing down the plughole. Unless… "And exactly where do you see me in this episode, Shane?" he asked hopefully, praying the answer would be 'front and centre'.
"Standing on a box, so you're at eye level with the rest of us?" Sam was still feeling sore.
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Shortie. I'm only throwing ideas around. For all you know, you might not even make it back from Prague." Maybe the little guy could get caught up in an explosion? You wouldn't need too much explosive, given his size – or lack thereof. Drama and economy in the same package – what could be better?
Just the mere mention of the word 'Prague' was enough to set the fear of God (or even Shane himself) into the hearts of the most hardened NCIS operative. There were all sorts of unpleasant rumours flying around that someone was going to have a nasty accident over there. And who could shake off the unpleasant memory of the fact that Shane was not averse to suddenly dumping a major character unceremoniously? There was poor Nate, currently residing in the limbo politely referred to as "resting", although collecting unemployment benefit could hardly be said to be relaxing and was in fact a rather stressful state of affairs. And then there was that chap from season one. The one who hadn't lasted very long. He'd had a dramatic ending though, and was thus more memorable in death than he had ever been in life. Since his departure, the guy appeared to have dropped off the planet. It was a salutary lesson not to mess with The Creator. And of course there was Macy, star of the pilot, who disappeared only to turn up dead somewhere near Washington, in an entirely different show. One they wren't allowed to talk about because of a little legal difficulty.
"I do like the idea of beach scenes." Shane was thinking aloud once more. CBS had cottoned on to this and had a flunkey follow him around with a notepad at all times, just in case the great man spouted a pearl of great promise. It was a system which worked well, apart from the time when the hapless minion had attempted to follow Shane into the toilet stall. The language on that occasion had been rather choice. He looked at Kensi and smiled. "Maybe we should have you on a beach show?"
"I can do beaches." Kensi made sure her ears were well-covered by her hair and fluttered her eyelashes becomingly.
"Hawaii Five 0!" Shane spoke in tones similar to those of Archimedes upon discovering the principle that an object will displace its own volume in water. "I feel a cross-over coming on!" The network loved cross-overs, as an excellent way of increasing viewing figures. Shane realised that if he delivered the goods, he might get a bigger budget. And a bigger budget meant bigger explosions.
"I can do Hawaii," Kensi informed him sweetly, and made a mental note to get one of those Kevlar vests out of the props cupboard, to protect her from the knives that were already being aimed at her back from her colleagues.