[Hodgins catches up with Finn on the Forensic platform.]
Finn, I've got the results.
From the victim's fingernail?
What? No, no, no, I'm still working on that. No, I have a molecular breakdown of your Grandma's secret sauce.
Oh, forget it. I've moved on.
No, you haven't, your still pissed, and I don't blame you. That stuff is awesome!
My Grandmother used to put it on my Catfish...
Oh, you're kidd...you're killing me here. I'm not gonna let that hot sauce die. [walks over to monitor] Now, look at this. I-I took a swab of the bottle and I ran it through the Mass-Spec, right, and I almost got everything. We've got Red and Yellow Peppers, ok, Cayenne, Tomatoes, of course, Garlic, Onions, Cumin, Salt, Brown sugar, Vinegar--it's just-it's just this one compound I cannot identify, and I hoping you'd know what it was.
Yeah, it's the one thing you'll never find.
Alright, but I've already got a portion of the molecular chain...
Love! It's love, Hodgins. That's not gonna show on your Mass Spec. Come on, let it go. [walks away]
No...Finn, come on...hey. I'm just one compound away.
[Finn leaves the Forensics Platform]
I'm gonna burn the crap outta your mouth and you are gonna love it!
[Another lab technician looks at Hodgins and wrinkles his nose, weirded out by the comment. Hodgins feels awkward for saying that so loud]
[In the interrogation room]
You seem to feel that anger is good solution to your problems, which I totally understand.
[nods, speaks rapidly] Yeah, sure. The release of adrenalin and noradrenalin in your system causes you to feel optimistic that your impulses are causing you to make, huh, reasonable risk assessments. It's a common correspondence bias.
SSuspect
[irritated] Are you screwing with me?
[earnestly] No. I'm simply pointing out that your lack of self control can cause you to make extremely poor decisions––
SSuspect
You said you're on my side!!
[raises hand to calm suspect down] No, he said he understood why you'd go psycho!
[glances at Booth] Ok, I wouldn't use that word but––
[impatiently to Sweets] I know. That's why I'm here.
[Booth and Brennan are watching unaired footage of a drunk Judge Trudy]
Oh...wow...she wobbles and....oh...wow...ok, so what do you think, Bones?
The judge might suffer from a neuromuscular disorder.
[stares at the TV and then at Brennan in disbelief] She sloshed! [Brennan shakes her head, unsure of what Booth meant] Drunk!
TTrudy
This line of questioning is absurd. Move on with it.
This is not your fake courtroom, Trudy. I call the shots here. You're more than a social drinker, aren't you? I can tell by the way your hand is shaking.
TTrudy
I have the occasional drink. Occasional.
[sarcastically] Right. Bet you had the "occasional" DUI. For me it was gambling, for my father it was drinking. I know a problem when I see one.
I hope this is important, I'm trying to find cause of death... [Smells the fried catfish.] What's that smell?
[As Angela prepares a table, Hodgins turns to show Finn.]
It... is Catfish, "Opie".
Oh. That wasn't neccessary, "Thurston".
But it was. [Points to the chair waiting] Come here, sit down.
[Finn sits down to the fried Catfish. Hodgins' hand moves to his pocket.]
And this... [Pulls a bottle of the hot sauce out of his pocket] This is the hot sauce.
Taste it, you are gonna love it.
[Finn reluctantly obliges]
This is... [drinks some of the sauce] Oh, my god! How did you do that?
Aframomum melegueta; it's more commonly as "Guinea grain". It's native to swampy habitats along the West African Coast. I have no idea how your Granny got a hold of it, but...
She used to trade with a Herbalist in the woods...Damnit...If you hadn't brought my Granny back from the dead! [starts laughing]
Hey, I told you I'd find it, right?
And you were right. The secret ingredient was Love. That's the only explanation for Hodgins spending so much time, and effort to do this.
[Finn pours the hot sauce on the catfish and starts eating]
Hey, we shouldn't keep this stuff a secret, I mean the world would love this.
Aaaa. Very true, very true.
You should slow down a little bit, Finn. You don't wanna get a bone stuck down your throat.
[Holds up a catfish bone] Not from a baby Catfish.
[Bends the catfish bone to emphasize that it is flexible. As he looks at it, he has an epiphany on the victim's cause of death.]
[Finn gets up, hovering between going and eating his catfish. He grabs the bottle of hot sauce before he leaves. Angela and Hodgins look bemused.]
