Sara: [stares dumbly]
What Sara Meant To Say: That'll hold the die-hard 'shippers for another few episodes. Shall we go back to ignoring each other?
Gil: Look. Let's, um --
What Gil Meant To Say: If I stall, maybe it'll become so awkward in here, Sara will have to leave.
Gil: [stares dumbly]
What Gil Meant To Say: Is it working yet? Sara: Okay. You know what? We did our session. Don't forget to document this for Ecklie.
What Sara Meant To Say: He did the uncomfortable thing again, didn't he? Three months of counseling, I still can't curb my reaction to it.
What Gil Meant To Say: Don't think this isn't going into The Big Book of Gil's Unpleasant Social Interactions, Volume II.
What Sara Meant To Say: Some day, you will weep the bitter tears of regret on the pillow of remorse. I love you! I didn't mean it!
Sara leaves. Gil is sitting there with an expression on his face like "What the HELL just happened?" Well, don't turn to the forum for answers, Gil. They're still debating it too.
And now we're back at the B-plot. David's jawing about what killed Vincent, while Sofia and Warrick feign interest. Oh, wait, that's me feigning interest. The upshot is, Vincent was shot twice. They need to figure out exactly what shot him, so Sofia elects to escape Warrick's contemptuous gaze and go back to the scene to try and find the AWOL bullet. After she lurches off, David's all, "At last we can talk! I hear you found a wheelchair." Warrick's pooh-poohing the usefulness of his find, and David asks if he checked the serial number. Warrick didn't even know wheelchairs had serial numbers. David explains that wheelchairs are registered with medical supply companies. Find the registration, find a lead.
Or maybe not: the wheelchair belongs to an elderly stroke victim who recently passed on. We learn this as Brass and Warrick are perambulating through a retirement home. Warrick's all, "She's dead? Because her wheelchair was found at the scene of a crime." The nurse is all, "Look, Bonnie hadn't left the grounds in an least six months." She lets Warrick and Brass in the apartment -- which is scheduled to be cleared out in the next week or so -- and the two CSIs step into a direct-marketer's wet dream. Bonnie, you see, apparently purchased a lot of things from NZA, Inc. "Scumbag telemarketers," Brass correctly guesses. A passel of uppity elders has been gawping in the window. One pounds on the patio to get Brass's attention, and he mutters in anticipatory exasperation as he ambles on over.