Marissa Hamm looked up from her reading and stared in disgust at her partner. He was sitting at his desk, head bent down, and deep into reading Turner Hahn’s case notes they had been working. It wasn’t that which bothered her. It was what he was doing which was working hard on her nerves.
Mike was abstractly picking his nose. Using a finger to dig into one nostril and drag out a dark brown, gooey-looking substance in the process. Without being aware of what he was doing he tried to flick it off his finger. It didn’t budge. He then tried to use the finger and a thumb to snap it off. But the brown thing defied physics and remained firmly glued to his finger. Finally, still unaware what he was doing, he wiped the slime off his finger by dragging it across the bottom of Turner’s office chair
