So, what'll be turning up each day will be totally unbeta-ed, probably full of horrible errors and certainly not posted anywhere else until I've had a chance to edit it all over again when I've finished. I have the basic plot and ending all figured out, through no idea of the actual route I'll be taking. *weak grin*
So, be warned.
So, I really like using 'So' to start paragraphs, don't I? *vague worry*
Anyhow, digression. Today is the prologue, featuring the NCIS characters only (and the first time I've written them seriously).
It was just another day in the NCIS offices, and Tony DiNozzo was amusing himself by flicking rolled up pieces of paper at McGee while he was working away on the computer as normal.
McGeek’s constant appeals to Ziva to make him stop it didn’t appear to be noticed by the Israeli, but then Tony was sure that she was actually keeping score on that legal pad next to her. He flashed her his most charming smile just to stay in practice, but got her most disapproving look in return. Occasionally he wondered if she practiced those scowls of hers in the mirror as well.
Leaning back in his chair, he stretched out in the warm autumn sunshine. “Now, this... this is the life,” he said aloud, arms comfortably folded behind his head.
“Do not say that,” Ziva snapped, without looking up.
“What?” Tony grinned lazily, ready to switch targets away from McGee at a moment’s notice.
“You are tempting fate,” she retorted, lifting her head away from her desk for a quick venomous glare. “I do not approve while I still have this report to complete.”
McGee absently brushed one paper ball off his shoulder, as he looked over to Tony’s desk. “Gibbs is gonna kill you if we get another case so soon after Pritchard.”
“Not gonna happen, probie,” Tony smirked in McGee’s direction, before returning to his new target of opportunity. “And I’m surprised at you, Ziva. How superstitious are you? Like we’re gonna be up in the rotation so soon.”
McGee lifted one eyebrow, and quirked his head towards Tony. “Statistically, we’re just as likely to get an early call as much as waiting around for a later one.”
“Leave it, McGee,” Tony said automatically, “You lost me at statistically. It’s Ziva’s ultra-rational approach I wanna know more about.”
Ziva sighed heavily, and made a meal of placing her pen down. “Very well, Tony. What, precisely, about my beliefs intrigue you?”
Tony rubbed his hands together, and leaned forward in glee. “You honestly believe that if I keep talking about what a nice day today is, then Gibbs will magically materialise behind me with a dead body to go investigate?”
Ziva’s lip twitched. “It is Gibbs we are talking about, yes?”
“Yes! The man maybe supernaturally sneaky, but even he can’t conjure up dead bodies at a whim!”
McGee folded his arms, and looked at Tony. “Gibbs, Tony,” he said, matter-of-factly.
Tony flung his arms up. “I know, I know. Worker of miracles, provider of head-slaps extraordinare, and.... right next to me.” He looked up at Gibbs, standing next to Tony’s desk, ever-present coffee in one hand and a not happy expression on his face. “Hey, boss, let me save you the time and effort,” he said quickly, and slapped himself on the back of his head.
Gibbs grunted, and walked off. “Gear up,” his voice drifted back, “Dead sentry in a warehouse. Ducky’s already on his way.”
Tony looked at the other two agents. “What? Coincidence, that’s all.”
“Thanks, Tony. Thanks a lot,” grumbled McGee, fishing around for his pack.
“Aww, come on guys...”
Ziva just glared and threw her pen at Tony.
~ + ~