All language subtitles for CSI 3x11 - Recipe For Murder.EN

Back it in. Back it in.
Back it in. Back it in.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.
You're good.
You're good.

Hey, Harlan.

Special delivery.

Fresh shipment in from Nebraska.

Great. Just stack it
in the freezer, will you?

I got to open up.

All right,
you got it, boss.

(machines powering up)

Ever wonder
what's in that hot dog?

Human body
in a meat grinder.

Shop foreman found an arm.

The rest of him
is prime grade A sirloin.

Body in
a meat grinder.

Sounds kind of "Mob-ish"

except they left town
in the '80s.

The last guy to operate
the meat grinder

is this guy over here.

Manny Saldano,
age 37.

Worked for Meteor
for 11 years.

Shop foreman vouches for him.

Says he inspected
all three of his machines

before he clocked him out.

Well, keep him here.

We're going to need
to process him.

Sure.

Check out the smorg-ie-bord.

Go ahead.

Mike.

Good God...

Looks like the elbow
got stuck in the blade.

Yup, the ulna.

One of the strongest
bones

in the body.

Probably what jammed
this grinder.

Possibly why whoever did this
didn't finish the job.

It's like that Morrissey album...

"Meat Is Murder."

(grunting)

I'm going to need a hand.

The last remains
of John Doe.

We're going
to need sifters.

Blood's everywhere.

Phenolphthalein and Luminol
are useless.

We're going to have
to dismantle this

piece by piece.

Yeah.

I'll get a foreman.

I think I can handle this.

You know about
meat grinders?

Well, everything's
pretty much plumbing.

Male into female parts.

Righty tighty, lefty loosey.

Grinder plate.

Blade.

The worm.

Found an ear plug.

Ear wax

is ripe with DNA.

Except...

all the employees wear them.

This one's different
than the ones they use.

Whoever wore this
brought it with them.

We just have to find out
whose ear it fits.

Girl's name is Linda Damen,
23, apparent suicide.

Father stopped by
with dinner,

found her dead,
called 911.

No signs of forced entry?

Nope.

Did find
her wallet out.

Empty.

Empty?

Maybe she was
just broke.

Hey.

Hey.

You guys are fast.

You pronounce?

7:20. Coroner will be
able to tell you more.

Looks like
she bled out.

Her left wrist
is transected.

It's atypical for a female.

Women usually
commit suicide in the tub.

It's easier cleanup

for whoever's
left behind.

Yeah.

Warrick.

Did her parents say whether
she was living with a man?

Was dating
a Brody Jones.

No idea where
he works or lives.

Did someone move her?

She was propped up
when we got here.

I checked for vitals.

You sure with all your
life-saving efforts

you didn't move her?

Hey, man, like I said,
I checked for vitals.

It's okay, baby.

The victim had
no response.

I had no reason to move her.

Well, someone moved her.

She bled out here
and she's dead there.

(sighing)

I'm going
to hit the road...

baby.

I'm sorry.

There's a stain here.

So cold stains.

Is it recent?

It's cool to the touch,
yeah.

Sara.

I think our suicide
just became suspicious circs.

Since I'm the one who always
seems to state the obvious

this arm was dead
before it was hacked off.

What do you make
of the, uh

scar tissue on the palm?

Occupational hazard, maybe.

I see this kind
of thing a lot

in bricklayers,
plumbers, carpenters.

Looks like
it's blistered.

Gradual denaturation
of the proteins

in the epithelials.

Resulting in general
scarring on the palm

or surface.

I'll send this
sample to trace.

Tips of the fingers look like
they're worn to the bone.

Can you get a partial?

Much more than that.

Lansberry's Ridge Builder.

One application

to the bulbs
of the fingers

and the ridges
plump out temporarily

like a Chia Pet on steroids.

Petrov Samsko.

Non-gaming sheriff's permit,
head chef, DeBreff Restaurant.

Chef... that would explain

the burn scar tissue
on his palm.

It's "DeBreff."

It's a five-star restaurant.

I've eaten there.

Good, maybe you can
get us a table.

Different sole,
different size.

Thank you.

Sorry for
the inconvenience.

It's just a
standard procedure.

Do you have any idea
where your daughter's
boyfriend works?

Well, a casino.

Uh, which one?

All of them.

He's, uh, he's a gambler.

Um, used to drag Linda out,
keep her up

days at a time.

Ran her

health down, her spirit.

She was getting
better, though.

She had a, uh... rough time
after college finding herself

but she was getting better.

The transection of
the left wrist is consistent

with a self-inflicted wound

particularly because
she's right-handed.

There's no hesitation marks.

Isn't that uncommon for suicide?

People usually stutter-cut
a few times

trying to work up the courage.

This woman cut herself
with one smooth motion.

This DB is all wrong.

Someone moved her two feet
from where she bled out.

What did
the tox screen say?

Nothing. Not back yet.

But I'll get it to you
soon as it is.

Thank you.

Is that glass in her hair?

Minute pieces of it, yeah.

I tweezed a few for trace.

We didn't see any broken
glass in her apartment.

Round edges, tinted...

It looks polarized.

Probably safety glass.

Yeah.

Too bad it didn't protect her.

Uh, DeBreff, please hold.

DeBreff,
please hold.

DeBreff, please hold.

Hi. Last name?

We don't have
reservations.
W-We're here...

Eh, party of four?

Three weeks
from Thursday?

Let me see.

Excuse me,
but you don't understand.

No, I'm sorry.
You
don't understand.

Your walk-ins

on a very busy night.

We're short a chef.

We know.
He's dead.

Not only dead.

Dismembered.

We're with the crime lab.

(phone ringing)

I'll get the owner.

Are you sure
it's Petrov?

Coroner made
a positive identification.

What makes
you think

this event
happened here?

We found traces
of aspic and olive oil

under his fingernails.

Means that he went
into the meat grinder

without showering.

Possibly straight
from this kitchen.

If there was a murder
in our kitchen

don't you think
that, uh...

(chuckling)
I'd know about it?

I don't know.
Would you?

Hey, Cath?

Blood spatter.

It's a kitchen.
The chefs use knives.

That's not uncommon.

You are...?

Gil Grissom.

I'm with her.

Who's, uh, Stephanie?

One of my waitresses.

Oh, I understand
how chefs cut their fingers

and how the kitchen help
could have blood spatter

on their uniforms

but how does a waitress get
blood on the back of her shirt?

We can shut you down
for hours

or get a warrant
and shut you down for good.

Give me till after the rush?

(sighs)

Okay, this rush
is taking

entirely too long.

The
coquilles St. Jacques.

Thank you.

People always think
that the show is out front.

It wasn't till
I waitressed

I realized it's
all in the back.

What are you looking at?

Looks like a
V-pattern to me.

What do you think?

Yeah.

What, caused by a candle?

Burn area seems too
big for a candle.

Okay. Kitchen's all yours.

Mr. Dutton, uh,
can I ask you
what happened here?

Oh, geez.

Uh, waiters probably put the
candles too close to the wall.

I've told them
a million times.

Ah, excuse me.
Stephanie?

Yeah.

Is this your uniform?

Don't have to answer that,
Steph.

They don't have a warrant.

I thought you said
the Mafia left town.

(chuckling)

We have the owner's consent

so, again,
could you explain

this blood?

Order up, Stephanie.

Hot items.

Two filet mignon
and one
coquilles St. Jacques.

Boogie.
Go, go.

Hey!

We found blood spatter
on the uniforms

of several employees
who worked the night

that Chef Petrov died.

Ross Halpo...

sous chef.

Lola Creighton...

saucier.

You want to tell us
how the blood got here?

It's my blood.

We got a rule
in the kitchen:

Don't touch my knife;
don't touch my johnson.

I was working with Petrov,
the head chef.

Hey, hey, that's my knife!

Touched his knife.

I deserved it.

Okay.

That still doesn't explain how
the blood got on the uniforms.

They don't get it.

Chefs here have a ritual.

Macho thing.

If you get cut

it's tradition that
you disburse maximum spillage.

Oh, hey, watch it.

Ah, blood!

Oh, hey, stop... ooh!

That's how everyone
got blood on themselves.

Macho.

Haven't these people
ever heard of HIV?

Apparently not.

Alert all your employees.

We're going to take over
your kitchen, starting now.

Hey. You got something
on that glass?

Didn't beep you to say hi.

Glad to see
you're settling in, Hodges.

You were right.
It is polarized.

Ultraviolet quotient
is very high.

Glass is from
a car windshield.

Maybe she was in some kind
of car accident.

Hit-and-run...

Then she crawls home,
gets on her bed

and commits hari-kari?

Stranger things have happened.

If you weren't such a lab rat,
you would know that.

You got a make of a car for me?

No.

But...

I can narrow it down
to the year it was manufactured.

Oar companies add more
ultraviolet sealants

each season to stay ahead
of safety standards.

Used a comparison study

of a car that
was made in 2001.

Your windshield glass
is from a 2002 model.

Thank you.

Mm-hmm.

(sighs)

The windshield's intact.

Yeah. Well,
maybe the glass

came from another
windshield in this lot.

Yeah. Let's take a look.

You know, you can tell
a lot about a person

by what they leave
in their car.

Rotten bananas.

(chuckles)

Business suit.

I got a paycheck.

Who would do that?

Underwear.

(chuckling)

That looks like adhesive.

Still tacky.

Hey, hey!

What are you doing?

That's my car.

Crime lab.
How are you?

Cute picture.
I'm late for work.

We noticed you had your
windshield replaced recently.

The adhesive's seeping.

You get what you pay for.

So the car shop was
having a half-off deal.

I'm in no position
to go to the big guys.

Did replacing the windshield
have anything to do

with the tenant

in apartment 325?

Linda? Yeah.

She did it.

I'd send her the bill
if I thought she'd pay.

She hasn't paid
for anything else

she trashed in this complex.

Like what else?

Oh, well,
that would depend on her mood.

Um, when she's up,
she breaks the mailboxes.

When she's down

she throws the patio furniture
into the pool.

(screaming)

She broke my
windshield yesterday

because she said she heard me

talking on my cell about her.

(screaming, glass breaking)

You bitch!
I heard you!

We just call her
"the whack job in 325."

Well, she died yesterday.

We think it may have been
a suicide.

Yeah? I'm surprised
someone didn't kill her.

Look, unless you want
to call my pit boss

and tell him I'm under arrest,
I'm going to work.

Thank you.

I would like to see
Linda Damen's tox report.

Yeah.

(turns off motor)

Fresh off an airplane

from a conference,
and bam...

I got seminal fluid.

Lucky you.

Some things never change.

What's that?

Cocaine.

Presence of blood on the drain.

Blood, coke, semen.

These people were
doing everything
in this kitchen but cook.

I'll go have
a little chit-chat

with the hostess.

They always seem
to know everything.

Blood clot.

What is that, sand around it?

Looks like it.

What would sand be doing
in a kitchen?

Well, one thing's

for sure:

The blood got there
before the sand.

This was not
a little knife nick.

This guy was stuck.

I mean, uh,
he bled out long enough

for his blood
to pool and clot.

Excuse me.

We're going to need
all your knives.

Starting with yours.

(clears throat)

I need them back
by the next shift.

Well, that depends
on what we find.

(siren wailing in distance)

Oh, uh, this is
the clearest picture

that we could find
of Brody.

Thank you.

I'll get it
to a detective.

The shoeprint that you found

in Linda's bedroom?

Are you thinking
that Brody might have...?

Oh, we don't know yet.

We're going to wait and see
what the evidence tells us.

I did meet a tenant at your
daughter's apartment complex

that described Linda as...

troubled.

Did you ever witness
her being violent?

We like to think of her
as normal, as improving.

She was prescribed lithium
her junior year of college.

She was diagnosed bipolar?

She's a rapid cycler.

She shifts into manic
in a blink.

We knew she had been violent
around the complex.

Lithium didn't help?

Well, it's a catch-22.

When Linda's in an "up" phase,
she doesn't think she needs

the lithium,
so she doesn't take it

which then makes her
more unstable.

Made.

I'm sorry for your loss.

That's a
guridon

used for
tableside cooking.

I thought there was a policy
against the use of these

in Las Vegas restaurants.

Ever since a television star
from the '70s

burned his face by one.

It's changed dining
forever.

You know, those V-marks

that we found in
the restaurant...

those were made
fairly recently.

Certainly since the '70s.

I lied about the candles.

It was an accident.

According to your owner's log,
it was a bad accident.

Danny Pasqualle

Italian male model

suffered
third-degree burns

on his face

the night of
September 26, 2002.

We do special requests
for special customers.

Chef Petrov made
Mr. Pasqualle

a Cafe Diablo.

Myers Rum, Grand Marnier,
Kahlua, and now for the ride.

Did he ever file formal charges
against you?

No, that's the strange thing.

He... he never did.

What am I going to do,
sue for a restaurant?

I used to make
five million a year.

You do the math.

So after losing
all that salary

you never filed suit.

Maybe you didn't file
charges to keep it quiet

and settle it for yourself.

Are you accusing me
of something?

No charges will be
filed, Mr. Pasqualle

if... you'd be willing

to fill out a statement
to that effect.

The mark on your hand,
Mr. Pasqualle?

Patterned abrasions

over the dorsal of the hand

at the metacarpal
phalangeal joints.

We call it a "fight bite."

Human mouths
are full of bacteria.

A wound from
a human bite

is a tremendous source
of infection, unfortunately.

So, what happened,
Mr. Pasqualle?

You paid the chef
a little visit

and did your version
of "Etu, Brute?"

You don't have to say anything,
Mr. Pasqualle.

We just need your hand.

(printer whirring)

Blade #25: Not human.

25 knives in,
and I'm bust.

Oh, now we're cooking.

It's not blood.

There he is... dollar
slots, wearing the cap.

How did you track him down?

We showed his
photo around.

The ATM in
the lobby...

he used it
24 hours ago.

What is he doing?

We used to call a guy like that
a bean counter.

Degenerates paying
25 cents a pop

in hopes of cracking
a pattern.

What are the notebooks for?

It's his results.

But that joker doesn't realize

that the patterns can end up
in the hundreds of millions.

You know, the more I see
of this kind of stuff

the less I picture
you a gambler.

This isn't gambling.

This is the end of the line.

How long have
you been here, sir?

Las Vegas Police.

We want a word
with you.

What do you know

about the death
of Linda Damen?

Unfortunate.

I need to...
write my results.

I need to...

document them.

How did you get the blood
on your shirt?

What blood?

We're going to need your shirt.

(sighs)

Take it.

You're coming with the shirt.

We'll need your shoes, too.

Did you know
that some doctors believe

that oral bacteria
have no other benefits

than to make it impossible
for other more vicious bacteria

to take up residence
in our mouths?

I knew that, Greg.

So, then I should just stop
trying to impress you.

That would
impress me.

Okay. Well, results
from the Fight Bite Boy.

I had to get it
from an outside lab

since we're not equipped

to do bacterial DNA testing
ourselves.

Hint, hint.

Bacteria on his knuckles

matches the natural bacteria
in the chef's mouth.

I guess he settled
out of court.

You ruined my life!

(grunts)

Looks like he took a cheek swab
of the chef with his own fist.

Thanks, Greg.

Mm-hmm.

You can see

why I might have a hard time
believing you, right?

(raps on glass)

Excuse me.

So... our male model
copping to battery?

He's denying murder.

Well, maybe
he's telling the truth.

The earplug
from the meat plant...

we got a hit on OODIS.

Kicked out Harold Haskins

delivery man from Meteor Meat.

Out on parole for extortion.

He delivers
to DeBreff Restaurant.

So, you snuck in the place
to grind up a body?

No. I didn't even
know what it was

till it was too late.

Who exactly gave you
the, uh, meat to grind?

Uh, it was in the
restaurant freezer

at the DeBreff.

You see my face?

This is me almost believing you.

Now, I've already
violated your parole

so whatever
I say to the judge

is up to you.

So, what is it?

(sighs)

It was Ross.

The sous chef.

I owed him 3,000 for coke.

He said I could pay him back
with the favor.

You ground up a body
as a favor?

It was already dead.

It's not like I killed him.

Well, that's a very tenuous
distinction.

Stay right there.

That's a filet,
not a porterhouse.

I'm a sous chef.

20 guys are into me
for recreational substances.

It doesn't mean
they'd cut a body up for me.

Ground it up.

We're thinking that you did
the actual filleting.

Never happened.

Ask any of the guys.

We have.

They won't talk.

Military calls it
"Code Red."

Fierce loyalty to the top dog.

I guess Petrov was that
until somebody killed him.

His tragedy is your promotion?

Excuse me.

We're in the middle
of a rush here.

Customers don't forgive
a cold meal or a late one.

I bet
they'd forgive a murder, Les.

Hey, do you guys
serve mutton?

What?

Mutton.

It's from the French word
for sheep.

These fibers
look like wool

and since sheep are sheered
before they're butchered

I think that somebody
was cooking

something here,
and it wasn't food.

Code Red?

Brody, we have

your shoeprint
in Linda's blood.

We also have a sample
of Linda's blood

that we found on your T-shirt.

Is there anything
you'd like to tell us?

Yes.

Someone is playing that machine
right now and is throwing

the entire
last 72 hours

of calculations
out the window.

Did you kill this girl

and try to make it
look like a suicide?

If anything,
I tried to save her.

Save her how?

I went to her place...

to borrow some money
from her.

I looked in her bedroom.

I thought
she fell asleep reading.

Then I saw blood.

Linda!

Tried to revive her.

Oh, oh.

But you left her there, dead.

You don't get it.

Even as the son of God

I can only do

so much.

Oh, I get it.

You and Linda are kind of
on the same page, huh?

Did you stop
taking your lithium together?

Is that it?

It's not a crime.

Yeah, you're right.

It's not.

Bipolar girl

meets a bipolar guy.

Together, they cut out
their medication.

She ends up
committing suicide.

It's almost like bipolar boy

is too high to even
realize what went down.

Yeah.

Hey, Doc.

I was over here
on an exhumation matter.

I knew you wanted this.

Tox results for Linda Damen.

Thank you.

No lithium,
just like her parents said.

She did have a huge dose

of Valium,
ingested less than an hour

before her time of death.

Valium?
Yeah.

That doesn't make any sense.

I mean, that's the last thing
a depressed person would take.

200 milligrams.

That's more than five times
the normal dosage.

(whistles)

That much Valium.

There's no way she could have
fought somebody off

if they were coming after her
with a straight razor.

Greg, how's the
knife coming

with that mysterious
smudge on it?

I just got the results.

Alcohol, acetate
and red dye #58.

Nail polish.
Mm-hmm.

May I see your
nails, please?

Oh.

Well, I'm going to need
a sample of that polish.

A scraping.

Uh, is this small enough?

Yeah. That'll do.

Okay, the, uh, three
of you can go.

Thank you, ladies.

And I've got a
table for you.

A five top.

All by yourself.

By the window.

Someone will be with you
shortly.

I looked into that prescription
at the pharmacy you asked about.

Linda Damen, the deceased.

That was quick.

She doesn't have a prescription
for Valium.

Her mother does...
Jane Damen.

25 milligrams as needed.

I think we better go
pay Mom a visit.

Yeah. Thanks, Sully.

Okay.

(computer beeping)

Wools are worsted.
12-ounce weight.

That's heavy?

Light... weave.

Mostly for season spanners.

We're talking about clothes?

Worsted is predominately used
in the manufacturing

of suits
and light overcoats.

The finish on this

is a trademark coating
in high-end suits.

Okay, good.

Thanks.

Mm. I'm not done.

There was also blood present
on the burnt wool.

Did we get a DNA test?

It's victim's blood,
from your chef.

I know
what you're thinking.

Couldn't possibly be his suit.

Chefs wear checks
and white shirts.

But somebody did burn
a bloody suit

in the restaurant kitchen.

A high-end suit.

You have a candidate.

You're the new guy.

Yeah. Uh, David Hodges.

Transferred from LAPD.

(blows air)

They said I had
an attitude problem.

Said that I thought
I was entitled.

(scoffs)

So that sample I collected
matches the polish

on this knife.

You handled this knife.

So?

Kitchen's first rule:

Don't touch my knife;
don't touch my johnson.

Did you stab the chef?

Well, this is
the sous chef's knife.

I'm aware of that.

But when a transfer
is made on a blade

it's usually
from slippage.

Due to a stabbing motion.

Ar-Are you charging me
with anything?

No.

But why don't you have
a seat out in reception.

Things could change.

Mrs. Damen, our detective found

this prescription
in your name

for Valium.

Can you tell us
anything about that?

I take Valium on occasion.

Yes.

Our lives get pretty frenetic

just trying to keep up
with Linda.

And you last got
a prescription...

this past Monday.

What does that mean?

The tox report says

Linda had five times

the normal dose of Valium
in her system.

Because there were
no hesitation marks
on her wrists

it suggests that someone
else inflicted the wound.

That much Valium would've been
enough to subdue her.

Hey, l-I think
you're a little
out of line here.

I did not drug
my daughter.

May we have your permission

to look through the current
contents of your prescription?

Did Linda's boyfriend
put you up to this?

Because he is not stable.
(phone ringing)

No.

(phone ringing)
Excuse me.

We're simply
trying to determine
Hello?

How your daughter died.

The blouse from your
vic's closet... the stain.

The substance is a biological.

High salt content.

Male or female?

Thanks, Greg.

Mr. And Mrs. Damen, there
are five types of tears...

sorrow, regret, joy, fear

and allergic reaction.

The one thing that
they have in common
is DNA.

We found a blouse
in your daughter's closet

the night that she died.

There was
moisture on it.

The moisture... was tears.

The DNA...

was male.

Mr. Damen?

Were you waiting in the closet
for your daughter?

We can get a warrant
to test your DNA sample

against our sample.

John?

The... (sighs)

The-the only way to get
an adult committed

for psychological help

is if they hurt themselves.

Or someone else.

Everyone Linda attacked

was too afraid to file
complaints against her.

She was out of hand.
She was attacking strangers.

She was vandalizing
property.

She was refusing
to take her medication

and we were helpless
to make her.

It was supposed to be
a suicide attempt...

(door rattling)

But then...

I heard somebody
at the door and I...

l-I...

I guess I panicked.

I hid in the closet.

(door opens and closes)

And, um, she, uh...
when he...

Linda?

Linda?!

(voice breaking)
By then it was too late.

I just wanted
to get her help.

I just wa...
She needed my help.

I just...

She, she needed help.

Honey, you know...

she-she wouldn't...

Reminds of what
my grandmother said
a long time ago.

I would never
believe her.

What's that?

Crazy people make even
sane people act crazy.

(faint rattling)

(rattling)
What'd you find?

Come here.

Do you hear this?

(rattling)

How did we miss that in Trace?

I don't know.

But I've learned
that the evidence room

is the quietest place
in the lab.

(knife handle clicks)

Sand. Right...

for balance and precision.

Did you know that
to a geologist

there's no such
thing as sand?

Each grain is
its own tiny rock.

Fine, glassy crystals...

dark.

Obsidian, I bet.

Volcanic sand.
Long way from home.

Japanese call it
singing sand.

If you walk on certain
beaches in Japan

it'll make
a musical sound.

Never been to Japan

but I've seen this sand
before...

on the blood clot.

(Grissom chuckles)

"Let us carve him
as a dish fit for the gods."

I'm going to guess
Shakespeare.

Julius Caesar.

That's your knife.

This is the owner's log.

"The sous chef gets 89% of
the meat off of trout filet...

six percent better
than any chef on the line."

I don't think
you killed the chef.

You did fillet him, though.

Your knife handle slid open...

(blade clangs)

...sand went down the drain

landing on the victim's
clotted blood.

It's hard work,
carving up a man.

I believe that's how
you broke your knife handle.

But you didn't do this alone,
did you?

A murdered chef
in your kitchen.

Kiss of death for a restaurant.

We'll never get
our customers back.

How am I going to get
a body out of here?

I do for you,
you do for me.

Code Red, in fact...
protect the kitchen.

Some people say
the most important part

of preparing a meal
is the cleanup.

While the fillet man disposed
of the chef parts

you got rid

of your bloody wool suit.

(flames crackling)

How's it going?

Well, he's not
denying anything.

He's not admitting
anything, either.

(sighs)
Yeah.

Same as the
other two here.

They need
a little nudge.

Such as?

While they're
in our custody

shall we try
a little theater?

(whispering)

Let's go for a walk.

Hey, relax.
You'll be with a friend.

Cuff him up.

Why did you kill him?

L-I went into the walk-in
to, to get some lemons.

Oh, yeah... (moans)

He played around
all the time...

waitresses, patrons...
nobodies.

But... she was different.

She was a chef.

What does that mean?

Well, I can't make toast,
um... where did I stand?

Hey, beautiful,
I haven't seen
you all night.

Well, I've seen you.

(knife clangs)

(grunts)

(groans)

Officer, would you take her
to Booking, please?

(cuffs rattling)

All in a day's work.

Yeah.

You up for dinner?