Summary: (vingette) A lab machine is broken and someone comes to fix it Spoilers: none
disclaimer: CSI, Gil Grissom and company, and places and etc are all property of Anthony Zuiker, Alliance Atlantis, CBS, and other companies. They did not condone this fic, and I am not getting paid for it. I write because I want to. All other characters not appearing on CSI in any way, shape, or form that appear in this story are my property.
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Greg looked up to find a young blonde woman standing in front of him, a visitor's badge clipped to the collar of her navy polo shirt. Her hair just brushed the collar, and her blue eyes were sparkling at him.
"Uh, yeah. I'm Greg. What can I do for you?"
The woman smiled. "Hi. I'm Trina Miller, Sales and Service Representative for National Bio-Chem Technology. We were told your Crime Lab was having a problem with your Model 2618?"
"Uh, yeah." Greg gestured with a pencil to the machine, his eyes never leaving Trina's form. She glanced over at the machine, then glanced again.
"'Machine On Crack?' Is that a new way of saying 'Out of Order'?" she queried.
Greg shrugged. "One of the CSI's didn't realize it was out of order and tried to run something through it. He asked me if the machine was on crack when he got the results. I figured it was as good an explanation as anything."
Trina laughed, and Greg smiled, wondering how he got so lucky as to be on shift when a pretty service rep came. The last service rep could have given any plumber a run for his money in the pasty white behind department.
Trina walked over to the machine, removing the sign and setting it on Greg's counter with a wink. Greg grinned, still taking in the sights. Her navy polo shirt was neatly tucked into navy slacks, and she was wearing a pair of navy loafers. The shirt had the equipment company's logo on it. She was tanned, and Greg was pleased to see she wore no rings. Then he realized that as a service rep, she might not wear her rings.
He went back to his work for Nick and listened to her as she ran the machine through its steps. She pulled the report off the printer and frowned. "Crack? I think this machine is doing several illegal narcotics at once!" she exclaimed. Greg chuckled. Trina pulled out a small computer and some wires from her service kit and hooked them up to the machine. In the time it took Greg to finish with Nick's DNA analysis, Trina had finished her work.
"It's not the software," she sighed. "That means I get to open her up and see if the bug's in the hardware."
She unplugged the machine and pulled an electric screwdriver out of her kit and went to work. Kneeling on the floor as she was, she slacks were pulled tight across her derriere. Greg admired the view.
A tap on the glass made him look up to see Nick and Warrick standing in the hallway. Nick gestured to the service rep, his eyebrows raised in a silent question.
"I'm going to go get some coffee. Would you like some?"
"No, thank you." Her voice was muffled as she had her head partially inside the machine, a flashlight in one hand. She was mumbling to herself when Greg left.
"Who is that?" Nick asked him.
"Trina." Greg said.
"Trina…" Nick echoed, his gaze still locked on the woman.
"Trina?" Warrick asked, looking at Greg.
"Service rep for National Bio-Chem."
"Good, she's going to fix that thing," Warrick said, turning his gaze back to the lab.
Greg shrugged. The view from the hallway was just as good from inside the lab, so he stayed out there with Nick and Warrick. They watched as Trina pulled a few things from her kit and tinkered with the inside of the machine. She removed something from the machine and stuck it in a jar. She put the cover back on and plugged the machine back in. The three men wandered into the lab at this point, staring over her shoulder as she ran the machine through its diagnostic cycle and again through a sample test. This time the results were normal.
"Machine successfully detoxed," she announced with a wink. Greg and Warrick chuckled. Trina pulled a metal clipboard out from her kit, cradling the jar in the crook of her arm. "I need someone in charge to sign this."
Grissom was walking by in the hallway, so Nick waved him in. "So what was wrong with the machine?" Warrick asked.
"There was a bug in the hardware," Trina replied.
"Ouch," Nick said with a wince. "I hope that was covered by the service agreement. County's not going to pay for expensive replacement parts.
Grissom looked at her as he took the clipboard with the invoice. She shook her head. "No replacement parts needed. Just some tweaking and some removal."
"Removal?" Grissom asked.
"Yeah, like I said, there was a bug in the hardware."
Grissom looked intrigued. Nick shook his head. "She means there was something wrong with the hardware, Gris. He's an entomologist," he explained to Trina. She looked at Grissom with interest.
"Really?" she asked. Grissom nodded. "Well," she said, "then as it is 5 o'clock, Miller time" she said, "This bug's for you." She set the jar from the crook of her arm on the counter, revealing the insect inside it. Grissom set the signed form down and picked up the jar, his eyes lighting up with interest.
"Where did you get this? This little guy is only found in the eastern US."
Trina smiled. "When I said there was a bug in the hardware, I meant that there was literally a bug in the hardware. And your unit was made in Virginia, by the way."
She smiled at the four men and picked up the clipboard. "If there are any more problems, feel free to give me a call," she said, handing the duplicate form and her business card to Grissom. She took her kit and nodded at them, whistling softly as she left the lab, aware that she had gotten the attention of all four men. Two of them for her looks, one for her expertise in mechanics, and one because she had appealed to his expertise.
She liked the attention of the last two the best.