He was less surprised by Greg's presence at the party, than at his own attendance. Since his and Heather's brief affair, his forays into her dominion had been few. They had tentatively become friends after her daughter's death, as he had supported her through the trial of her daughter's murderer and her own deal with the district attorney, but there was no hope of rekindling their former spark, and they were more comfortable and better able to deal with each other without that hanging between them. Still, he had almost turned down her invitation to the New Year's celebration at The Dominion.
It was an intimate gathering, despite the scope of it. It had the feel of an old-fashioned costume party. The guests were about two dozen or so employees, and a similiar number of friends and clients, though it wasn't always easy to tell them apart. He was a bit shocked to find his nearest companion at dinner was his own employee. Thankfully, Greg didn't make an issue of it, and it had been a pleasant encounter.
If anything, Greg seemed more shy and reserved than Gil would have thought, and there was a slight flush to his skin that spoke of pleasure, rather than insecurity. He found himself intrigued by a young man that he didn't know as well as he had previously thought, and their lively conversation that lasted past dinner, and continued in the salon afterwards. Several times, he had to reconcile his new image of Greg, with the young CSI he thought he knew, and he could tell by the quizzical, yet pleased expression on Greg's face that he was thinking the same of him.
He was, in fact, enjoying himself so much that he was a bit annoyed when Heather interrupted to check on them, in her role as hostess. He barely noticed her satisfied smile, as she chatted with them both, mostly wishing that she would leave so that he could continue getting to know more of Greg. When she finally did just that, it took him a moment to realize that she had slipped something into his pocket, as she kissed his cheek.
He lifted it out, and saw that it was a brass key that vaguely resembled a skeleton key, with a small tag engraved with the number 11. He saw Greg blush and duck his head, and he lifted the key higher, tilting his head to the side, and catching Greg's gaze with his own. He could see the slight tension build in Greg's tight frame, but Greg just bit his lips slightly and nodded once.
Gil led the way, his mind already focused on the negotiations ahead, both in room 11, and, he suspected, in other areas of his life as well. He was also thinking of the expensive gift he owed Heather, both for the invitation to her lovely party and for invitation to his new companion, whom he was very much looking forward to getting to know.