(no subject)
Who: Anyone who's a little blue
Where: Mickey's bar
When: Current times
Grissom had given up. It had been a month since he'd seen or heard from Sara. The townhouse was like a tomb. She'd pretty much taken everything, but he found a rattle she's missed. He kept it in the pocket of his lab coat or windbreaker, whichever he was wearing, and it became almost a talisman. He'd find himself absently stroking it, and tell himself to stop.
He'd broken down and hired a private investigator, it was costing way more than he'd anticipated, but he couldn't take the waiting, the not knowing. Gil had started keeping a bottle of bourbon in his desk drawer, a bad habit he'd picked up from Brass. But he'd found the occasional drink to relax had turned into four or five, and taking nips between paperwork, or between trips to and from the lab had become a daily occurrence.
Grissom was feeling particularly down and after one really depressing day, he'd gone straight to Mickey's instead of home. He'd been holding down the bar ever since. Four hours now. He waved to Red, the biker looking bartender and threw another twenty on the bar. Grissom wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.
Where: Mickey's bar
When: Current times
Grissom had given up. It had been a month since he'd seen or heard from Sara. The townhouse was like a tomb. She'd pretty much taken everything, but he found a rattle she's missed. He kept it in the pocket of his lab coat or windbreaker, whichever he was wearing, and it became almost a talisman. He'd find himself absently stroking it, and tell himself to stop.
He'd broken down and hired a private investigator, it was costing way more than he'd anticipated, but he couldn't take the waiting, the not knowing. Gil had started keeping a bottle of bourbon in his desk drawer, a bad habit he'd picked up from Brass. But he'd found the occasional drink to relax had turned into four or five, and taking nips between paperwork, or between trips to and from the lab had become a daily occurrence.
Grissom was feeling particularly down and after one really depressing day, he'd gone straight to Mickey's instead of home. He'd been holding down the bar ever since. Four hours now. He waved to Red, the biker looking bartender and threw another twenty on the bar. Grissom wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.