When Gil moves on to Jane Doe top, he gives the tar plate over the head a good yank, pulling it up forcefully enough to crumble the skull underneath. This is the Grissomian equivalent of hitting your baseball through the neighbor's window. Gil looks appropriately mortified; Catherine's looking none too pleased either. He finally says, "Huh." Catherine mm-hhmphs, the universal sound meant to signify, "I am searching for something to say that will not indicate the churning stew of fury, profanity, and panic you cooked up for me. Because I am trying to be an adult, and not the subject of the headline 'Local Kills Coworker, Stuffs Skull Into Liquid Nitrogen Container.'" Gil then tries to extract himself with, "I better go get my shift started. Good luck with the case." Heh. Catherine protests, "No, no, no. You don't get to just destroy the skull and split." Gil asserts, "You can get a nice mold from the impression." Catherine protests that she's short-handed; Gil appeases her by offering Sara's services, as Sidle just wrapped a case. They'll both rue that offer in about ten minutes. Gil makes his exit while Catherine makes more exasperated noises. Uneasy rests the head, Catherine.
We then cut to Grasshopper, Gil's Adopted Son Number Three, attempting to give himself a hip-ectomy so that he might pass himself off as a stolid pillar of forensic aptitude in the eyes of the court. He does the spit-on-the-hand move before styling his hair. So this locker room is co-ed, with no doors, and it's so hideously underappointed that there's not even a sink for Grasshopper, Gil's Adopted Son Number Three to use in the coiffure avec de l'eau? Sara comes in and comments cheerfully, "Look at you, Mister Straight Edge! I did not know your hair could do that." Grasshopper, Gil's Adopted Son Number Three grouses that he looks like a dork, and Sara cheerfully lies that he looks like a professional. Well, really they're both right: he looks like a professional dork. In a nice bit of continuity, Sara asks, "Lemme guess: prelim for Sherlock?" Ayup. Sara asks who Grasshopper, Gil's Adopted Son Number Three pulled for the judge, and he replies, "Dudley...Anderson?" Sara stops taking off her coat to grimace, "Yeah, not the sharpest tool in the shed. Speak slowly, use simple terms. You're gonna nail it." Their professional rapport is then blown to shreds by Catherine blustering in and telling Sara, "You're mine tonight." "Not unless you buy me dinner first," Sara coos. Oh, she does not.
We go into our second montage of the evening -- I know! It's only the 12-minute mark! -- where Emergency Backup David is examining Jane Doe Top, intercut with Nicky checking out Jane Doe Top's clothing, David reconstructing Jane Doe Top's skull, and Sara spraying the inside of Jane Doe Top's former sarcophagus with nonstick cooking spray and beginning the long process of casting a facial mold. While all this is going on, some Portishead manqué is ululating. And how old am I when Portishead is my pop-culture reference point. Just encase me in tar already.