TONY
"Who's that?" asked Tony.
The guy kissing Ziva goodbye at the lift looked strangely... average to be dating a woman like Ziva. They were used to her being courted by rather more exotic men, Mossad assassins, CIA operatives - at least when it came to any relationship that might actually make it onto the Navy Yard. Not that he and McGee ever discussed Ziva's love life in any but the most general terms. They had a tacit agreement: McGee didn't needle Tony about how both his usually effective brand of charm and his backup method of seduction by teasing always seemed to backfire when it came to her, and Tony didn't draw attention to the fact McGee still blushed a little every time she paid him a compliment.
McGee studied the interloper. "I don't know." He didn't sound any more pleased than Tony felt.
To Tony's well trained eye, the man Ziva was still kissing (not that he was in any way jealous, of course, it just wasn't the time or the place) looked decidedly ordinary. Even, if he was being harsh, a little geeky. Not, of course, that there was anything wrong with geeks. Tony was very fond of McGee, and McGee was the geek's geek. But it didn't seem right that a geek would get to kiss Ziva like that, or that he would, now that they had finally stopped kissing, manage to make Ziva David (ex-Mossad ninja assassin and professional badass) blush by simply whispering something in her ear. That... well, that really didn't seem fair. No, wrong word. If it was unfair, then that implied that Tony cared that she was with a geeky guy instead of, say, some tall suave Italian-American stud. To pick an entirely random example. And he definitely didn't. But it certainly didn't seem normal.
When she finally strode over to them, there was a bounce in her step he hadn't seen for quite some time. Hmmm. Well, she was happy. And he was, he assured himself, definitely happy for her about that.