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Sociology Courses | March 13, 2006

Sociology of Violence

Grissom hands out the midterm. It has two sections, multiple choice, and an essay portion.

The essay question reads as follows: Now that you've had the chance to speak to Mr. Fraser, the school's head of security, and using what you have learned in this class, what recommendations would you make to him when it comes to this school's safety? Please provide at least one method of security in your answer, whether is be a rule or restriction, a defense mechanism, etc. and justify your reponse.

Sociology of the Paranormal

Grissom hands out the midterm. It has two sections, multiple choice, and an essay portion.

The essay question reads as follows: A close friend comes to you, and tells you that they have experienced a paranormal event, one that you find difficult to believe actually happened ~~even in Fandom~~. What is your reaction? And how would that reaction affect both you, and the person in question?

OOC:

So, there are two parts.

#1) Please give me a letter grade, or some approximation thereof, of how your character did on the multiple choice. Let's say there are 30 questions, of varying difficulty, if you want to get that detailed. Otherwise, I make the grade up, and it will be bad, because I am mean and out of soda today.

#2) You can actually write the essay, briefly describe the contents of the essay (Bob writes an essay on installing a death ray laser on the roof of the building, as a safety precaution for the next attack of not-quite-living.) or even handwave it, but Grissom ~~or maybe his TAs in chat tonight if they're around, mwa ha ha!~~ is going to grade it. The grades will be averaged, 50/50, and Wednesday the students will get their grades.

Just to shake things up a little. Oh, and any of the characters that had crazy-ass Spring Breaks, and didn't get their studying in even though they are an A type of student, feel free to have them do poorly, there will be an ~~creepy lab type~~ in-class extra-credit thing next Monday. (Mwa ha ha)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Nauseous? What do you mean, exactly? Have you been getting sick?"

He's so close, and yet, not quite there.

"Do you have any of Doc Robbins' pregnancy tests here?"

He completely ignores the question for a moment, his mouth opened in a small O of stunned silence.

"How long has it been since you...?"

"I'm six days late. And my cycle is very regular. I haven't been under stress, nor have I been ill. I can't ignore the signs, Gil." Her hands and lips tremble slightly.

His head shakes back and forth a few times very softly, his voice hushed.

"So, then, okay. Okay. Do you want to take a test here? If you're..." he trails off. "About a month, I'd guess, if you're getting sick, so a regular test would be fine. If you can, if you want to."

"I do. I want to know, I mean, we need to know. Christ." She rubs her head with one hand. "I just...me, a mother?"

He's in the same boat, doubts beginning to bubble to the surface in rapid succession. He never expected to ever need to honestly think about this, and now shivers of fear and uncertainty pass down his spine. He'll reach retirement age before their child could drive a car, and his health hasn't been exactly stellar. Oh god, the baby could be deaf. Or become deaf. And he knows he can be cold, emotionally unavailable, and the damage that that can do. And he has no concept of what a good father is like, to use as a guide.

His hands trembling just slightly, he reaches up to her hand and takes it.

"We'll figure it out, Sara. We'll... we'll figure it out."

His touch is a welcome anchor and she grips his hand tightly, working on not descending into a full-blown panic attack.

"Yes, we will."

A pause.

"You're not allowed to run out on me now." A slight, shaky smile.

"Never," he promises solemnly, his voice rattling with conviction.

He kisses her knuckles, and then gives her a knowing look, before walking over to the corner. He moves a sterling silver CSI kit, revealing a large, leather-bound box. Opening the top, he carefully removes some items - a case for a scalpel set, a small scale, some spare microscope slides, and digs out a brown paper bag.

"I guess I'll have to restock this kit," he says softly, trying to lighten the mood a little as he comes back over to hand her the bag.

"You know where the bathroom is, right down the hall. Do you want me to... there's a handicapped bathroom too. I can wait here, or there."

She shakes her head. "I'll be right back."

The necessary activities do not take very long and soon she returns with the appropriate items in hand.

He's still standing in the middle of his office, in the same spot he was standing in when she left.

Directing his attention to her, he gives her an expectant look.

A sigh and she manages a smile.

"Looks like I need to send an addendum to Mike." She holds up the small tube, where two bright blue lines can be seen clearly.

Looking down, he quickly looks back up, licking his lips and looking a bit lost, managing a "Yeah."

He looks into her eyes for a long moment, and his face softens. "Come here," he asks quietly, extending his arms out to hold her, although more gently than usual.

There is quite a bit of clinging going on. A few tears welling up, too.

"I..." and she trails off, sounding as lost as he looked.

He strokes her back soothingly, his lips in her hair. "It's okay, honey. It's going to work out," he adds with growing conviction.

"And I love you. And our baby is going to love you." The words come more easily off of his tongue that he would have thought. "And I know you're crying because you're going to have to give up coffee, you're not fooling me."

She laughs, a bit shaky but calming down a bit. "Darn, you caught me out."

She draws back a bit, looking him in the eyes. "And our baby is going to love you."

"Well, she or he is stuck with me, either way," he replies with a weak smile, reaching out to brush a piece of hair away from the dampness of her cheek.

"I guess I should go to the clinic and have a check up. Look for a good obstetrician." She mirrors his touch for a moment.

"I love you," she whispers finally, laying her head on his shoulder.

"I can ask Lorelai tomorrow, and ask her for a good recommendation."

He holds her, more tightly than before, and whispers, "Not as much as my mother is going to love you."

She laughs, muffled against his shoulder. "I should have a talk with my uterus. It's not supposed to be in cahoots with my mother-in-law."

He laughs a little, but then becomes more serious, his voice dropping in tone.

"I need to marry you," he says rather plainly, before realizing how that could come across. "I should have asked you to marry me years ago. I never thought I'd ever want any of this, Sara, but I do. I do. I want you to be my wife, I want that commitment, I need you."

"You weren't ready years ago, Gil. And face it--neither was I. Things happen for a reason. And in case you haven't noticed, I need to marry you too. Not just for this," touching her stomach lightly. "But for you. Tarantulas and all."

He knows he's not going to be able to feel a damn thing, but he figures any scientifically illogical behavior is excusable this afternoon.

Looking down toward her abdomen, he looks tentative, but places a hand over hers, a little sigh escaping his lips.

"Who do you think won the pool in Vegas?"

"Warrick, probably." She giggles.

"Probably," he agrees with a soft laugh of his own.

"Did we even tell any of them we're engaged?" Grissom asks, realizing he hadn't even thought about it. Her brother, his mother, yes. But...

Sociology Courses | March 13, 2006

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