First Impressions
I wish he would stop staring at me. It unnerves me how he just stares at one spot and never wavers; I don't think he even blinks when he gets into one of those states. It's worse than being in a staring contest with a cat.
I know he's worried about me, about how I'm doing. I've told him several times that I was fine, but he knows I'm hiding the truth. I guess we've known each other for too long.
Our first meeting was a tad bit unusual. I saw him exploring the parking lot near the strip. I had just gotten off work and needed some time alone so I walked along the Strip. We talked for a while before I continued on my walk. Before I could get far, he told me about a position for a day job.
At first, I couldn't believe that a complete stranger was telling me about a job. In fact, I almost laughed in his face. But something about how he said it made me consider it seriously. I applied for the position although it meant changing my schedule if I got the job. I sent him a card thanking him for the opportunity.
We didn't meet again until after my promotion to a field investigator when I switched to the night shift. I've always been a night owl and was grateful to have a chance to work at night again. When I first started, I heard about the bug-guy, but I hadn't met him until the night I solved my first case on nights.
I had just gotten the results that confirmed my suspicions and was on my way to share the results with Gary when I ran into the infamous bugman. And I really do mean ran into him. My notes just went everywhere and became mixed up with his reports. He mumbled something after he helped separate our stuff and I just glared at him before departing. I regretted that I didn't say anything to him at that moment. It was months, in fact, before we interacted with each other again.
Our first case together was trying. I was still hooked on cocaine and Eddie's career wasn't gelling. I could hide my habit and the results of Eddie's temper, but my nervousness was fully evident to the guy I was working with. The case itself wasn't one that required a huge intellectual effort. Just the emotional load I was dealing with at the time was tiresome.
We actually spent a lot of time talking about odd things during our cases. At one point we started a debate about blood splatter patterns for the sheer reason that it was something to occupy our minds while waiting for a particular result from the GC/MS. He, of course, had to physically prove it. We ended up finding a model head, filled it with a mixture of fake blood, and hit it with a bat just to settle our debate. Most of the time, our talks were kept on a professional level, but occasionally we would share personal stories.
A few years later, I actually told him what precipitated my arrival in Las Vegas. To this day, I only talk to my younger sister. The rest of the family disowned me essentially when I left home to follow my then boyfriend, Ricky. I arrived in Vegas after my parents made it clear that I was no longer wanted in Montana.
His standing to straighten out his back brought my mind back to the task at hand. Greg was analyzing a white powder we had found at the scene. I look at my watch. It's been an hour and a half since either of us has said a word. He was staring intently into his microscope now.
I know he's worried about me. I'm actually surprised that he hasn't asked me why I volunteered to work Thanksgiving this year. I take that back. I'm not too surprised. He's been withdrawing from our friendship for several months; leaving me out of the loop in a sense and that's starting to worry me.
Even with our rocky meeting, we've rarely been less than honest with each other. Eventually the secrets get too heavy and we'll share with each other. I know something is weighing heavily on his heart. It's almost like he lost the passion he once had, like he's afraid he'll lose something if he shows that he is human.