(Sara walks out to find Grissom pacing furiously)
Sara: You okay?
Sara: Excuse me?
Grissom: Normally my pulse is seventy, when it gets up to ninety-five, I realize just how mad I am. I- I have ten people working around the clock on this thing.
Sara: You're too hard on yourself.
Grissom: No, no. I'm not mad at me. There's a body in there and that guy knows where it is!
Sara: So what's your pulse at now? (smiles, Grissom sighs); you wanna ... take a walk around the block? Get some air.
Sara: Clear your head.
Grissom: I'm fine.
Sara: Okay (touches his cheek, he looks surprised), Chalk... from plaster.
Grissom: (Rubs his face) oh.
Sara: Better go wash up
Grissom: Two things that have nothing to do with each other.
Sara: Or everything.
Jim: I worked in a slaughterhouse one summer. Looked a lot like this.
(Grissom is also standing in the middle of the room. He's not looking at the walls, he's busy testing the blood.)
Jim: The lease is in the name of Clifford Renteria. He lived here with his girlfriend till they snuck out in the middle of the night. Gee, I wonder why.
Gil: For all we know, this is animal blood.
Jim: Yeah, sure. Deer, sheep, llama.
Gil: A deer hunter comes home from the mountains drunk decides to play butcher clean his kill. Chops his game up into oven-sized pieces for the winter. I mean, what does he care? He's renting.
(Grissom drops a small sample of the mixture into the hand-held test and waits for the results. BRASS uses his flashlight and shines it on the test. Results of the test indicate that the victim was definitely "human".)
Jim: Victim's human.
Gil: And a human has only eight pints of blood. So, whoever the victim is ... is now dead.
( a dead person is in scuba gear stuck up in a tree.)
Catherine: How the hell he'd got up there?
(Catherine is holding yellow evidence markers in her hand and is looking on the ground for anything unusual.)
Nick: He couldn't have climbed up there with all that crap on.
Det. Ray O'Riley: He got up there somehow.
Nick: Well, you know ... Lake Mead is just over the hill and the copters are dropping water.
(Catherine looks up at the helicopter and bucket whirring by. She turns to Nick)
Catherine: You're serious?
Catherine: That's a total urban legend. We're scientists, Nickie. No way that happened.
Nick: (looking up) Okay.
Catherine: And I suppose you believe in Santa?
Nick: After today ... oh, yeah.
Nick: Matchbook time-delay device.
Catherine: Don't touch it. It'll disintegrate.
Nick: That's the only reason I carry this stuff.
(Nick pulls out an aerosol can.)
Catherine: Hair spray. Extra hold?
Gil: Mr. Renteria, your apartment walls are covered in human blood. Are you aware of that?
Cliff Renteria: Yeah.
Gil: Do you have an explanation?
Cliff Renteria: It's my blood.
Gil: Your blood?
Jim: You got a stigmata?
Cliff Renteria: No. I get nosebleeds.
Cliff Renteria: From Hepatitis C. I got blood to spare. My nose is like old faithful. Finally came in handy.
Gil: You expirated blood from your nose all over your apartment walls to get back at your manager?
Cliff Renteria: Yeah. I hope I made his clean-up job hell.
(A noise from behind him distracts Cliff Renteria. He turns around and sees a worker.)
Cliff Renteria: (to worker) That's not supposed to go anywhere.
Jim: This guy blows ten quarts of blood from his nose onto his wall? Youwant to ask for a demonstration?
Gil: He's lying. Expirating from your nose would leave oval-shaped blood patterns. The ones we found in his apartment were V-shaped.
Jim: I thought you said the blood on those walls couldn't be his.
Gil: I also thought the metric system would catch on. Look, everything that starts with a faulty premise is bound to fail. I saw "V" patterns and I foolishly ruled out the nose.
Cliff Renteria: I told you I had a condition, Hepatitis C. I was diagnosed when I was 18.
Jim: And this relates to your magic nose, how?
Gil: Hepatitis C destroys the liver and a whole host of clotting functions. Cliff, indeed, has blood to spare.
Cliff Renteria: Thanks for coming around to my side. Which way is out?
Sara: Same high-velocity spray.
Warrick: Same short "v" pattern, too.
Sara: Didn't you say expirating through the nose made oval patterns?
Gil: Yeah, well ... as it turns out our guy stands very close to the wall and blows almost sideways.
Warrick: This is on the real. You actually saw him do this?
Gil: Right through his Jimmy Durante. Ambidextrous, both nostrils.
Sara: Great. Our big murderer's a nosebleed.
(Greg enters holding a paper with test results. He hands it to Grissom.)
Greg: Oh, not necessarily. Sample from the nosebleed's lamp. It's not his blood. And I don't know whose blood it is but the amelogenin came back with something pretty interesting: "XX."
Warrick: Female blood.
Sara: Our guy's girlfriend is still missing.
Greg: So, you check this safety valve?
Nick: Sealed closed.
Greg: And what about the pressure gauge?
Nick: Hose melted. Catherine found it at the base of the tree.
Greg: It's 3,000 psi; that tank was full.
Nick: Guess it's like anything pressurized. These things blow for one of two reasons: Too much air or too much heat. You just made yourself useful, my friend.
Greg: Hey, yo, Cat ...
Catherine: I'm going to forget that you called me that.
Greg: Sorry. Um, I've got a full profile on our -- "your" torch. I pulled his DNA off of a cigarette butt. Lucky for us, he's a wet-lipped smoker.