CSI
Crow's Feet

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It is necessary to suffer to be beautiful.

It's night, and someone in Las Vegas remembered to pay the power bill. They had to skimp on the public health department, though, which is why massive, highly communicable epidemics are breaking out up and down the Strip. At least, that's one possible explanation why we're seeing David the "Sanitized for My Protection" Coroner wandering the halls of a hotel in a hazmat suit. I should note that the first time I watched this episode, I had missed the set-up for this, so all I saw was the wavy clear lens and I wondered, "Why on earth are we getting the crime scene from a goldfish's perspective?" Now, in retrospect, I kind of wish TPTB would go in that direction. Wouldn't it be fun to see an episode from a housecat's perspective?

Anyway, David's walking down the hall, and as he heads into the hotel room, there's Vartann on the phone. Unfortunately, he neglected to put on a hazmat suit before heading in to say hi to Patient Zero. Even more unfortunately, he's still wearing clothes, period. David continues walking past the maid (who, in mid-freak-out, registers his presence and is not calmed by it), then heads into the main room, where he's been keeping Emergency Backup David as a test rat. If our Boy Coroner expires, then we've got a contagious disease. If not -- autopsy party at David's place! Emergency Backup David is still breathing -- albeit a little shallowly and rapidly -- but the woman on the bed, who is covered in circular, angry-looking sores, is not.

Cut to an angry-looking Catherine attempting to work her way through a hotel lobby. As she passes a crowd of stressed-out-looking patrons (all of whom, no doubt, are split between wondering if they've caught Ebola and wondering how they can get comped for the inconvenience of hanging out in the lobby in their bathrobes. Either that, or they're like, "At last! I'm in a hotel lobby in my bathrobe and there's not a damn thing security can do about it!") ANYWAY, Catherine fights her way through the crowd, only to be turned back at the yellow tape by a uniform who tells her, "Sorry, ma'am. I'm waiting for Catherine Willows. She's the one in the tank top? You're in a blazer and blouse, so it's clearly not you."

Catherine whips out her ID and repeats her name, and the guard covers his confusion by saying, "I know who you are. But the hotel rooms are under quarantine. No one goes up, no one comes down." Catherine's miffed at this.

Upstairs, David is busy poking about Patient Zero while Emergency Backup David tries not to pass out from holding his breath. Eventually, David peels off the bunny suit and announces to the suite of would-be disease vectors, "False alarm! We're clear." This is good news for Catherine, who's wandering into the suite as a suite escorts the still-shaken maid out. Vartann continues his streak of uselessness by remaining clothed, and Catherine trots into Patient Zero's bedroom, where David is busy looking at the body and Emergency Backup David is busy looking at his boss and thinking, "You were willing to let me die of Lassa Fever! What kind of sick employee evaluation was this?" Catherine then asks, "Someone want to fill me in here?" David says, "[Emergency Backup] David assessed a potentially infection agent, and per emergency protocol, he stayed at the site so I could suit up in this thing. Seniority has its perks, baby!" Oh, he does not. And he's not trying to murder Emergency Backup David by sending him out to get exposed to Marburg virus, Legionnaire's Disease, hantaviruses, or the sniffles. Emergency Backup David simply had the bad luck of the draw with this one; he defends himself with, "Her red blotches are consistent with CDC photos of Ebola." David assures him he made the right call. Catherine turns to Vartann and asks what they're looking at. He thinks it's a 419 -- suspicious circumstances -- but "honestly, I have no idea." The camera then zooms in on Catherine's image in the mirror. We're still watching her reflection as she says, "It's my turn now. Clear the scene."

The Who want to know who this mirror-gazing, quipless stranger is.

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