Hey, it's Las Vegas! For thirty seconds! I'm guessing the producers finally figured that four seasons in, we'd all know where the show takes place.
Music that someone far hipper than I would be able to identify bubbles up as we zoom abruptly from the skyline to a glossy roulette table. The ball whirls around the wheel as a slender blonde claps, "Okay, let's go! Come on -- don't fail me! Come on...black 22." She puts down a big pile of chips, and her partner, a dark-haired guy with a receding hairline, tells the dealer, "If this happens, I'm buying you a shot, man." The dealer closes the table to bets, we see the ball bounce some more and, with a big ol' stroke of luck -- or maybe plot contrivance -- it lands in the black 22 slot.
The blonde and her husband are ecstatic. The dealer places a bottle of clear fluid on top of the chips -- I guess he's a bartender as well as a roulette wheel operator -- and the couple's doing some more smoochy-face stuff. The blonde leans over the table and the guy rubs her back. Hey, it's Brian Bloom! Someone's going to end up dead some time soon, if his stint on Oz is anything to go by. Wait -- what am I saying? This is CSI and we're less than a minute into the episode. Someone is going to end up dead here too.
Anyway, Brian's rubbing his wife's back, and he notices that another skinny blonde is watching him while her dark-haired husband is nuzzling her. The blonde at the roulette table gets her giant stack of chips. She throws her arms around Brian and tells him, "Let's cash out." He asks, "Why? I thought we were gonna take some risks tonight." Brian, your wife bears an uncanny resemblance to Jessica Simpson; if looks are anything to go by, your biggest risk of the evening will be getting drawn into a debate about whether tuna is fish or chicken. Anyway, the wife wants to go dancing, and Brian replies, "Okay -- as long as it's lap-dancing." The wife is not nearly so shocked by this as she pretends to be. As she hugs Brian, he looks over her shoulder and notices that the other blonde and her husband are no longer in their spot at the bar.
We then shift perspective so we're watching the bartender at that bar pour drinks for Brian and wife. Ah, heck -- until we get names, let's call her Jessica. Anyway, Brian orders them martinis, and Jessica's all, "Why don't we take those up to the room, 'cause I'm feeling a little, ah, frisky." She giggles through the whole proposition. That's always smooth. Brian ignores the woman currently flinging herself at him to peer around the bar until he finds the blonde and her husband again. Jessica figures out that Brian's attention is elsewhere, and she turns around to follow Brian's line of sight until she sees the other couple; both of them are now watching Jessica and Brian.