Seven hours later Grissom finds Greg in the break room, fast asleep, blond hair even messier than before. He's managed to borrow somebody's tee-shirt, and looks no older than 14 years old. There's no disputing the evidence though.

"Mr. Sanders..." Grissom resists the urge wake him up by ruffling his hair, to scientifically see if it feels as soft as it looks. "Greg?" Greg wakes up, sitting bolt upright, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, making himself look even younger.

"I'm sorry, I'll get out of your way. It's a shame I never got the job. I think I would have liked it here." Greg sighs.

"You can't leave just yet Sanders. You've got to return that t-shirt." Grissom teases, before snapping himself out of it. He's not a people person and has no desire to be. "Besides, you got the job."

"So I guess I'll be working under Ecklie?" Greg asks, trying to sound happy he got the job and not let his personal dislike of the guy get in the way.

"Actually, you'll be working under me, the graveyard supervisor." Grissom replies, surprising both Greg and himself.

"Cool. I'm more of a night-time person anyway." Greg smiles. "It's gonna be fun." Grissom shakes his head and walks away convinced he's made the right choice for the team but it's still going to take him some getting used to.
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