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Theatrical muse--Talk about the weather
BW nikki74
#295 “Talk about the weather”

Talking about the weather is one of the more pointless exercises and Gibbs has learned to disengage when small talk begins. He’s always thought it disrespectful to discuss something as mundane as the weather at a crime scene. Wind, rain, snow, or sunshine, someone’s life has changed and waiting around for answers isn’t his style. It has never been his style.

The only time he ever enjoyed talking about the weather was when he sent letters back home when he was on long deployments. Shannon would send him cassette tapes that he played over and over again. In those, she’d describe the weather in such a way that he could feel the cool breeze on his face, even if he was in the hottest desert. She was a writer, a reading teacher who published two children’s books right after they’d married.

Gibbs’ own writing style—like his imagination—wasn’t anything like hers. He gave her as many details as he was allowed, but he never expanded on any of them. He never told her how hot it was in Kuwait, how the sweat tricking down his back itched, making his shirt stick to his skin.

Now that his wife was gone, he wished he’d painted a picture with his words, even of the weather. If anyone would appreciate it, Shannon would.

As his team chattered about the weather, nervous bursts of sound because they were uncomfortable with this crime scene, Gibbs found himself joining it. “Not too cold today. Least it is sunny.”


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