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21 November 2007 @ 06:48 pm
Theatrical Muse: Week 205: Question 205  
Name: Dr. Sid Hammerback

Fandom: CSI: New York

Word Count: 653


Talk about a moment in which you wished you had a camera.


There are certain moments in life which seem to line up, perfectly, to create amusement. Points within a seemingly ordinary day, which come together at a certain time to culminate in a funny circumstance, a mistake perhaps, or an accident, that creates a brief period of surprise hilarity.


Sid had opted out of making his own lunch that day, because the rumour mill, which had reached him through Adam, was that there was a guy with zebra stripe sunburn all over his body and that it was going to land on Mac’s lap. This meant there was a good chance it might go to him, to pick up the body and examine it back in the morgue. Interesting bodies were the highlights of his day, if a person could actually find something to look forward to in dealing with death, which he did, aside from the come natural, duty bound need to benefit society with his services. Bread and butter sufficed for breakfast as he grabbed his supplies for the day and fled out the door.

There was a new, plucky kitchen hand working at one of the many sandwich shops near the building which housed the CSIs, and Sid’s domain. He wanted to get the attention of the young waitress girl, and there was a sense of amusement rising between them as he embarked on a war of water with a squirt bottle.

Sunburn zebra guy safely in his corner pocket, lunchtime soon arrived, and Sid had wound up back inside work. He shut away the body and cleaned himself off before changing into casual clothes, to take his lunch break. When the ME tracked down his wallet, flung hurriedly into his bag, there was only a couple of dollars in it. Not much, so he’d have to grab a sandwich, something cheap.

The sandwich shop with the plucky kitchen hand was having a special. He could get a sandwich and a drink, surprisingly, for just under what he had in his wallet. It was a good opportunity, so he took it, and settled down at a table inside to wait for his food. Except the kitchen hand had soaked the back of the girl’s shirt, so she had gone to change, quickly, picking up one of the lemon meringue pies on the wait back to the register, intending to place it in the display fridge, or on the plucky man’s face, whichever.

Sid was still itching to grab a newspaper at the corner deli before he ran his way back to the morgue. Getting up, he bypassed the counter, long accustomed to knowing the basic layout of places like that, and pushed through the swinging kitchen door.

Just in time to get a face full of pie, a result from an impromptu decision by the waitress, to get back her would be but failed, flirtatious colleague, who she had assumed had been coming through the door at that moment. Thus the moment was a big mistake, for which she profusely apologised for. Sid smiled at her, he was kind with his words, he was still a tale and agile man, and he had managed to scoop up most of the disaster before it landed on his shirt. As she wiped the rest off him with a damp cloth, he didn’t insist that she not, they flirted with their eyes, and slipped her phone number into his pocket.

Later on in the night, very much later, when he hitched up her little sandwich shop waitress skirt, just beside the closed door to her apartment, as they stood in her open living room cum library, she pulled out her phone. She showed him the picture of his face, his meringue dotted hair, and he bent her over the couch, showing her what he thought of that moment, where a camera had been needed, a surprise had culminated, and a picture had been taken.
 
 
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