"I'm not squawk-- and oh my god, isn't that what medical tricorders are for?" Gloves? How barbaric. Real doctors would never, and Jim squirms away and around to the other side of the kitchen's island, though he reaches across the table to grab his glass as he goes.

"Painting? I dunno. Since Kyle. He's an artist."

Yes, focus on the topics of distraction. Bones can't possibly chase him with that thing, can he? ... Honestly, it's probably best not to speculate.