"Is Doctor Chloe available?" He asked in a calm, measured voice, his helmet buckled to his waist. Putting his armour on before he had left was a painful experience, but he didn't want to go anywhere without it just yet.
"Mmm... sorry my duck?" The receptionist said, in a voice that sounded like it had been in as many wars as Grissom had. It reminded him of a tank commander that he'd once met who'd been shot in the throat six times.
"Is the Doctor available?" He repeated slowly.
"Ooooooh..." She mumbled, "I don't know..."
"Can you find out?"
"I guess so..." She then, with hands shaking so badly Grissom wasn't sure she should be working at all, began to check through a calendar that was sat in front of her. Grissom sighed again. This could take some time.
--/+0 minutes 0 seconds/--
--/Level 15-169 Donal Samerro's Family Accommodation/--
"Yuni? Is everything alright?" A voice drifted through the door, the voice of someone much older and definitely more male. Torn and the girl jerked upright and into standing positions, Torn sweeping up his canister of Pyrachloride and holding it behind him, as if it were his toolkit in some way. A large male figure pushed his way through the ajar door. He was also carrying a large brown paper bag of groceries. He looked around forty, and he was also a Ragnorian. He looked first at the girl, then at Torn. He paused.
"And... who exactly are you?" He asked, quite innocently. For some reason he seemed to have no real problem with an unidentified young man in his apartment. Torn would have found that amusing, had he not been never more embarrassed in his life.
"I'm...erm... well..." Torn stammered.
"He's the technician, father." She interrupted. "You know, the guy you called the other day to repair the lighting wiring in the bathroom?" She said, although Torn got the feeling she was somewhat stating the obvious. But her father didn't seem to think so.
"Oh, did you get it fixed then, young man?" The father asked, turning his attention to Torn again. He seemed to be oblivious to the thousands of possible scenarios that Torn was running through his head. Most of them involved a thrashing on his part.
"Well... no, not yet... I, erm... don't have the right toolkit with me." He said, trying desperately to instil some confidence in his voice.
"Oh, so you'll be coming again later then?" The father asked, moving to one side and putting his own grocery bag onto a side cabinet.
"Yes!" Torn said, a little more enthusiastically than he'd hoped. "I've...I've got to go, I'll be back later with the ah... correct equipment." He said, shakily, making his way to the door. "I'll see you later." He said, more directed at the girl than at the father. He stepped outside, leaving the two behind him.