int. office - night

The office is filled with filing cabinets. In amongst the organised chaos sits a very big woman. She must be over 300lbs if she's an ounce. A thin, red mouth is pursed shut in a sour expression and dark beady eyes glower at a computer screen. Chubby fingers type surprisingly quickly across a keyboard.As Dean knocks and enters, she doesn't even look up.

woman

Help ya?

She finally glances up and sees Dean, standing in front of her desk and smiling awkwardly. Her whole demenour abruptly changes. Her face lights up in a warm but slightly predatory smile and a pink tongue flickers across her lips.

WOMAN

Well, hellooo handsome! And what can I do for you? (Giggles)

DEAN

I...err...NCIS ma'am.

Dean quickly flips the badge at the woman.

DEAN (CONTINUED)

We're investigating the death of Zoe Hunt and I wonder if I could take a look at the coroner's report please for, um, our investigation? (Winces) If it's not too much trouble?

The woman gets up from behind the desk and advances towards him like an iceberg dressed in floral print. She bats her eyes at Dean, flirting outrageously.

WOMAN

Why, of course, handsome! I'm sure I can accommodate you!

She moves surprisingly quickly to a filing cabinet and opens a drawer, all the time glancing coyly over her shoulder at Dean. It's very clear that Dean is feeling extremely awkward right now...

woman (continued)

So tell me, cutie, why's the National Crop Insurance Service interested in a poor little girl's death all the way out here in Omaha?

Dean

NCIS ma'am. Navy Criminal Investigative Services. Nothing to do with crops nor insurance.

Woman

What? Oh, sorry. My mistake. Okay then Sailor boy, and you know what they say about all the nice girls loving a sailor, don't you?

Dean

I--

Woman

Oh, c'mon, sweetie! Don't be all coy!

Dean

Ma'am? The file, ma'am?

Woman

Ah, here it is. So why's the Navy interested in Zoe Hunt?

She slams the drawer shut and turns back towards Dean, fanning herself with the file and fluttering her eyelashes at him.

Dean

Her father is a serving Marine, Ma'am. It's routine to check up on the deaths of any Marine Corps dependents.

Woman

My, you boys do like to look after your own, don't you? Here.

The woman hands Dean the file.

WOMAN (CONTINUED)

Poor little lass. Horrible way to die. Although I hear it's quite quick.

DEAN

Then you hear wrong, ma'am. Electrocution is a slow, painful death...

WOMAN

Well, aren't you just full of fun?

Dean, reading the file, glances at the woman, a puzzled expression on his face. The woman has a strangely deep, husky voice. She smiles disarmingly at Dean.

WOMAN

Is there anything else I can do for you, Special Agent?

DEAN

No ma'am, that's fine, really. Thank you. Actually...

WOMAN

(Over eager)

Yes?

DEAN

(Under his breath)

Okay, awkward...

(A little too loudly)

Is there anywhere I can make a copy of this file, ma'am? For...our...records?

WOMAN

Call me Suki.

DEAN

Excuse me?

Suki

Suki. It's so much less formal than that ma'am thing, don't you think?

DEAN

Okay, is there anywhere I can make a copy of this please, Suki?

SUKI

How about the copier machine behind you?

DEAN

Oh. Right. Thanks. Um, that's a pretty name. Suki.

SUKI

(Giggles)

Why, thank you! What a polite young man you are! It's my chosen name. So much better than Eric, don't you think? Help yourself to the Xerox machine, sailor-boy.

DEAN

Excuse me?

SUKI

The copier? Behind you?

DEAN

No, no, no, um, the, um, the... ah crap, the Eric bit?

SUKI

Oh that! Well, Eric was my birth name. I changed it after the operation. Oh, oh! You didn't click in there, honey, did you? (laughs) It's amazing what they can do with trans-gender surgery these days, you know. (Holds up hands) This is always a dead give-away though. Big hands. Ah well, big hands, big heart! (laughs again)You okay there, sweetie? You look kinda pale...

DEAN

I..I...I...

It's quite obvious that Dean is absolutely mortified by the situation and has absolutely no idea what to say to Suki. He fumbles with the file and drops it, spilling the contents all over the floor.

DEAN (CONTINUED)

Oops! Butter-fingers! I'll...I'll um, just...

He points at the copier and smiles awkwardly. Suki, still grinning widely, waves a hand at him and turns back to her desk. Dean almost sprints over to the copier, jamming the papers in the feed tray and stabbing the copy button. He bounces up and down on the balls of his feet, anxious to be out of a situation that is totally alien to him.

DEAN (CONTINUED)

(Mutters)

C'mon, c'mon!

SUKI

You say something, sailor-boy?

DEAN

NO! Um, no, no, everything's fine!

SUKI

'Cause I could always show you how it's done if you're having problems!

DEAN

Oh god no! I...I mean, nope, I'm fine, really. I'm good. Yeah. Good. Fine.

Suki can barely contain her laughter at Dean's discomfort. Finally, the last copy spits out and Dean grabs the originals, stuffs them in the file and, grabbing the copies, turns back to Suki. He looks like a frightened rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck...

SUKI

(Purrs)

You got everything you need, sailor-boy? Everything?

DEAN

(Grins brightly)

Yes! Hell yes! Um, thank you ma'am! I have to go! The Navy appreciates your co-operation! Thanks! I'll...I'll just...go...now...

SUKI

Listen, I get off in about ten minutes, what say you and I--

DEAN

(Eyes widen in horror)

NO! I...I have to get back. Maybe some other time! I'll...yeah, I'll call ya.

Dean backs out of the room, shuts the door, turns and sprints down the corridor.

CONTINUOUS:

SUKI

You haven't got my number! God damn it...

Dean takes the stairs two at a time, still looking mortified. He pulls himself together at the bottom of the stairs as he notices the receptionist staring at him, obvious amusement on her face. Dean straightens his jacket and walks purposefully past the receptionist, nodding briskly as he passes her.

RECEPTIONIST

Met Suki then, did ya?

Dean ignores the woman's comment and walks out of the building. The receptionist laughs heartily and shakes her head...

Please note: Not yet edited for spelling/grammar. Sorry 'bout that...