A/N: Betaed by Smackalicious as usual. Just a bit of fun. And they're still not mine. Notice how Tony's gf didn't die in the finale? See? Told you they're not mineā¦
"Hey, I've gotta go Meesh. Looks like the Bossman finally sent me the new probie," Abby said suddenly to her friend, noticing a tall figure making its way towards the lab.
"I'll be there," she told her, and hung up the phone with a smirk. Torturing probies was fun; cruel, and definitely unusual, but fun. She watched him come in, a daring smile on his face. She had to admit, he was fairly good looking; well, okay, he was hot as all get out, but she had her priorities.
"Abby," she introduced herself, sticking out a hand, "I
like really wild parties, and the word hinky."
The new guy didn't miss a beat. Shaking her hand he said, "Tony.
I like really wild women and long walks on the beach at sunset."
Abby had to try her hardest not to laugh. Funny and good looking, she
thought.
"So do..." he began, but she cut him off.
"Beach," she said, as though mulling over the word in her mind. "Beach equals volleyball. Volleyball equals the most popular sport in nudist colonies." Tony just stood there, dumbfounded by this outburst. Ha, thought Abby, Mr. Smooth is at a loss for words.
"Um?" he said, clearly no longer sure what to make of her.
"Well, Tony," she admonished, "are you going to just stand there and make rude comments about nudists, or did you actually come down here for a reason?"
"But you said - uh, what?" he finally managed to stutter. Strike one.
"You came down here for the test results, right?" she said, in a voice much like that used to talk to eccentric old people that were a bit hard of hearing.
"Oh, right," he said, finally coming to his senses, "you've got them, then?"
"Yup," she said, handing him a sheet of paper. He looked at it, confused by the numbers and unfamiliar words.
"What does it all mean?" he asked, looking up at her.
"I'd explain, but your head might explode," she said solemnly, staring him in the eye. "Just take it up to Gibbs."
"Hey, I'm not a complete idiot, I do have a general knowledge of forensics," Tony said angrily. "I bet I'll get it, try me." Abby sighed and began to spout a monologue of complete and utter nonsense.
"According to the mass spectrometer there were highly untraceable trace elemnts of hydraoxide and phenylildoxide found on his clothes, along with a highly acidic form of the compound clamyminstilynide and destyrianatoryriboxyphyll. That means the carbon in the drioxide missed with the hydrogen in the phetalinx caused a chain reaction of polluted monomers, which leads you exactly to the suspect." Tony's jaw had dropped as she was speaking, and now he was gaping at her. Strike two. After a moment, she prompted him to speak.
"Got all that?" she asked, and he pulled himself hurriedly together.
"Yeah," he said casually. "Easy. That definitely explains it all." Abby, of course, saw straight through his lie, but used it to her advantage.
"Good," she said, plucking the paper from his hands and feeding it through the shredder. "Well, just get that info back up to Gibbs then." She led him forcefully to the door. Strike three, you're out.
"See ya," she told him, with a suggestive wink, and closed the door. Once he was gone, she skipped over to her phone and dialed Gibbs.
"Hey," she said, "we got traces of cocaine on his clothes, and the bullet matches the gun you found at the scene."
"Thanks, Abs. Didn't I just send DiNozzo down there for the results?" he asked.
"Well, yeah, but I think he got a little lost in the translation," she said mischievously.
"Fine," Gibbs said, clearly knowing how she liked to torture the probies, "but next time, don't waste our time, okay?"
"Yes sir, Bossman," she said, smiling, and hung up the phone. That was one rule she was just going to have to break.
