"Next." The tiny spark of hope in Blair's eyes flickered and finally died at the flat tone of the command. He rummaged about in the bag, and fished out another sample which he held out tentatively. Jim snatched it away without offering a look or comment. More tense moments passed.

The sample was cast aside. "Next." He decided to try again; futile as it might seem at times, Jim did in fact respond fairly often to gentle coaxing, and if necessary, persistent nagging.

"Jim, man, you've got to give it a break. You're tired and cranky, and you know how that plays around with your senses. Why don't you try again later and see if it works any better?"

His only reward was a stony glare and the by now all-too-familiar demand, "Next." He sighed and capitulated, consoling himself with the thought that this couldn't go on much longer anyway. Then his stubborn sentinel would have no choice but to listen to reason and maybe even start considering alternatives.

"Next."

"Next."

"Next."

"Next." A pause.

"Next?" Another pause. "Sandburg, NEXT?"

Blair threw up his hands helplessly. "We're out! I'm telling you, man, you've got to give this a rest before you lose it altogether! Stop and have a drink, take a nap, give your truck a bath, do ANYTHING, just quit this or I'll be the one who goes crazy! We've been at this for HOURS, man, and I don't think you're going to find anything different by going through everything available on the market!"

The irate Sentinel turned on him with a growl. "I can't rest, much less sleep in a situation like this, Sandburg. There has to be something out there I can do. And besides, this whole thing was your fault in the first place, so don't complain. Get out there and find me more."

"My fault?!" He jumped up, indignantly gesturing as he ranted. "This sort of thing should have been your responsibility to begin with! Baby-sitting you is like, so NOT in my job description and I'm already doing far more than we agreed on to begin with. I'm not going out again tonight man, you're just going to have to live with it." At the faint lines of pain that appeared on Jim's brow, he softened his tone. "Come on, big guy, it won't kill you if you leave it just one night. Or we can just rest a bit and continue later; all this continuous testing has achieved is to make us both irritable and snappish. One of these might seem better when you're more under control."

Jim sighed deeply and nodded, his shoulders bowed in defeat, and Blair had to feel a little sorry for him, even if it wasn't something he would tell the big guy to his face anytime soon. He got up and began gathering the rejected samples, wondering how he was going to survive the night with Jim so on edge.

He did some breathing exercises, and could hear Jim begin to match his breathing rhythms, perhaps unconsciously. Nevertheless, they both seemed to have calmed somewhat, and he decided it was best to try again before Jim brought it up himself.

"How about this one?"

A scowl wiped out the finally relaxed face almost before he took the proffered object as he checked the label again in disgust. "I know soft, and this is not soft by any stretch of your imagination. This is what you use when you eat cement and forget to rinse out your mouth."

Blair rolled his eyes at that, and reclaimed the rejected toothbrush. Eat cement, indeed. "Well, what did you use while you were in Peru? Sentinel Oral B? Can't you floss, rinse, or just leave it for one night? The swelling should be down by tomorrow."

"I'm not in Peru anymore, Sandburg, and I can feel the acid eating at my teeth already," growled the irate Sentinel, and Blair sighed, wracking his brain for more ideas. He should have just let the man lose all his teeth and get some nice, safe dentures instead of insisting he visit the dentist and develop an allergic reaction to whatever abrasive said dentist used to scour off his tartar build-up. Though he would have thought a Sentinel would have noticed and removed the plaque before it had a chance to get that far. Then he remembered something and dug in his backpack hopefully.

Jim watched him with a half-hopeful, half-jaundiced expression, not really expecting even someone as resourceful as his new room-mate to be able to pull a rabbit out of his backpack at this time. "What are you looking for, Chief?"

"Got it!" Blair surfaced in triumph, holding up a bag of cashew nuts. "Here, eat these!"

The other man stared at the nuts dubiously, evidently having never imagined them being among possible witch-doctor remedies for anything before. "You want me to eat starchy things when I can't brush my teeth?"

He grinned and bounced excitedly. "Not these nuts, man, they'll protect your teeth somewhat - just try some, okay?" Pleased with himself at having found a possible solution, Blair resumed rummaging though his bag, looking for his lost notebook.

"You're nuts, Sandburg," muttered Jim suspiciously, eyeing both types of nuts with deep suspicion.

"It's your fault," he retorted smartly, then crowed in delight when he finally unearthed the renegade notebook, and began scribbling furiously in it.

"You're still nuts," Jim growled and sniffed at the cashews, wondering if his in-house witch-doctor could find some medicinal use for potatoes.

"Bite me," replied the younger man, no longer paying attention. He looked up sharply at Jim's snort of amusement and mentally replayed their conversation, turning an interesting shade of red. "Scratch that, give them back!" he snapped, scowling fiercely as he made a grab for the nuts, which Jim pulled out of reach hastily.

"They're my nuts now, Chief," he grinned, and to prove his point, popped several in his mouth and crunched them. Blair grinned and bounced expectantly, waiting for the verdict, and Jim scowled in his turn, feeling himself taken in. Then he chewed some more, thoughtfully, a look of mild surprise on his face.

"It works."

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