Grave shift supervisor Gil Grissom stared at the computer screen in disbelief. He had been in the process of running prints he had collected at a crime scene involving a 419 off Fremont Street. He'd struck out on the murder weapon; all there had been were smudges, so Grissom had just begun running some of the prints from the rest of the apartment. Of all the partials he'd found he had one hit. The face of Officer Fromansky glared back like a beacon from the display. Grissom removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. After the disasters that had been his last two encounters with the man, he highly doubted that the third time would be the charm.

He sighed deeply and rubbed his temples. A voice broke through his reverie.

"Hey bugman, made any progress with the prints from the Bentley case?" Glancing up from the keyboard he met the steady gaze of Catherine Willows. She was leaning against the door jam with her arms crossed over her chest. He gave her a small, wry smile, which earned him a bright grin from his co-worker and friend. She walked toward him and perched on the desk next to his glasses.

"Come on Gil, didn't your mother ever teach you to share?" she chided, tucking a piece of strawberry blond hair behind her ear.

"I drew a blank with the prints from the murder weapon; there was nothing workable." Catherine nodded but stayed silent, allowing him to continue. "But when I ran the prints from the rest of the apartment I got a hit with the print we recovered from the back of the chair." Her eyebrows rose.

"So we have a suspect in AFIS?" Gil shrugged and reached out, turning the screen away from himself until it was visible to Catherine.

"Not exactly."

Her eyes widened as she regarded the picture. There was a moments pause before she spoke.

"Have you called Brass?"

"Not exactly," he repeated, returning the screen to its original position. His remark earned him a highly unimpressed look from Catherine.

"Gil…" she began, a warning note lacing her voice, but before she could continue Grissom held up his hands to stop her.

"Cath, I don't think that's the best idea. We both know Brass will have to suspend him until we've concluded our investigation. He's hardly going to take that well. For all we know there could be a perfectly plausible explanation for the presence of his prints at the scene." Her eyebrows rose.

"When did you start giving the guy the benefit of the doubt Gil? You both hate each other!" Grissom shrugged.

"An attempt at burying the hatchet?"

She sighed loudly.

"So, Master, what exactly do you suggest?" He smiled, amused by her 'master' remark.

"Well, I was thinking we have a quiet, informal chat with him, hear his side of things then check out his story *Grasshopper*," he responded, eliciting a chuckle from Catherine. She looked at him for a moment before rolling her eyes once more and jumping down from the desk, smoothing a wrinkle in her tight black pants as she strode toward the open door.

"I'll meet you at the Tahoe in five minutes," she called over her shoulder as she disappeared from view. All Gil could do was smirk as he gathered the printout up, slid it into a folder and stood up from the computer, slipping his glasses back into place on his nose.