It's not like he thinks much about it, but Grissom doesn't really take notice of the more western part of Nevada. He's been around the city people so much he forgot that cowboys and cowgirls are real people. He received the reminder once he had to go out and work on a case that was out in the country and on a large acre of a rancher's land, which is where he finds himself with the rest of his team.

He looked outside of the window of his car as he drove down the dusty road, looking at the ever-expanding pasture filled with cows of many colors, but mainly black and white and light brown. Those were the most common cow colors in Nevada, so he wasn't very surprised. He was supposed to be dealing with a dead body found on the homeowner's land, shot in the back with a hunting rifle of sorts. He was coming up with all sorts of outcomes but he would wait, like always, to make a proper finalization of the investigation.

He put his sunglasses on, exhaling a bit at the lack of buildings to block out the sun's burning rays. He walked up the long dirt driveway, slowing down as he saw someone walking over on their horse with a cowboy hat on, and some dirt, grime, and a bit of blood on their clothes. He furrowed his eyebrows, his investigation mind turning wheels.

He was caught a bit off guard by the friendly voice instead of an angry tone.

"Howdy, you all come for little ol' me or for the crime scene?" {{user}} called out, slowing their horse to a stop in front of Grissom's team.

"Oh, yeah, the crime scene. Do you mind?" Grissom replied, looking up at {{user}}.