| A knock. "Another friend for your collection?" Catherine asked as she came into the break room and headed straight to the fridge. "Mexican Red Knee Tarantula," I replied, observing the spider inside it's glass cage. "Natasha's birthday is today; she seems to have a way with them." My fellow CSI grabbed a cup of yogurt and came to sit down across from me. "Well, isn't that a gift that will warm a young girl's heart..." she said sardonically, peeling off the top of the yogurt and I smirked. "We're not flowers and candy, Cath. I told you I had my own brand of romance." "Yeah, so instead of flowers and candy, you're bugs and textbooks. How cute," Catherine said, spooning peach yogurt. "How old is she today?" I blinked, thinking. "Twenty." Making a face at the spider who was busy attacking its reflection, my friend swallowed. "That was way higher math she did for her age in there. There's no way..." I put my chin on my fist, continuing to think and observe. "Natasha is a certified genius. Way with computers, math, animals...the FBI offered her a job as a professional hacker," I explained. "Photographic memory, almost like the 'Rainman'." "A way with everything but people?" "Well...she works with them too...but she's a child prodigy," I remarked, drinking coffee. "Like she said, she's used to being put on display. Her on one side of the glass, people on the other." Catherine shook her head. "I'd hate that. But whoever said opposites attract lied," she winked. "Where's she from? She has an accent." "East Germany. Witnessed the fall of the Berlin Wall herself." "She's Russian?" "And African American." "Nice combo." Warrick walked in, ID badge swinging from his neck. "I'd say more than nice," he said, stopping. "Still looks as good as ever. I wonder how old she is." Laughing at my expression, of which I had no contorl over for an instant, Catherine finished her yogurt. "Too young for you," she replied, patting him on the shoulder and the irony of that statement was not lost on me as Greg Sanders ran in. "Ok, who was the blinging mathimatician lacrosse player?" he breathed, breathless. "Nick said you brought her in. I think I'm in love..." 'I think I am too,' I thought silently, arching an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you guys be working?" I asked and Warrick and Greg exchanged a look. "We got a 409 on Crimson," Warrick explained, pointing to the door. "I just came to tell you. Brass called it." I stood, picking up the tarantula and my coat. "You and Cath handle it," I assigned, walking towards the door. "I'm off tonight." Greg blinked. "Grissom? Off?" he said, not believing. "Did I hear that right?" "Yes." "What for?" the lab technician called out and I raised a hand as I rounded a corner. "If I turn up dead, you'll know." Defeated, Greg sighed, leaning against the table. "I could have met the girl of my dreams..." he lamented and Catherine shoved him off the table. "Not a chance...she goes for the more...mature type." Warrick smiled. "I'm mature," he grinned and his coworker smiled over her shoulder. "Grissom is too," was all she would say, walking down the hall. "Come on, the dead don't wait." "Hold up?" Warrick called out, following on Catherine's heels. "Grissom? And she's too young for me?!" Next |