He enters the bar after a long day at the office. The day consisted of a double homicide, and nearly being run over by a fellow agent in the NCIS parking lot. He looks around the bar, which is barely half full. He looks down the bar, and finds a woman sitting at the end, by herself. He moves towards the end of the bar, and stops at the stool next to her. He puts on his famous, or rather infamous DiNozzo grin, and clears his throat.
"Is this seat taken?" He asks the brunette.
She looks up from the drink that is sitting in front of her. She meets his glance with a pair of dark brown eyes.
"No."
He takes a seat next to her. He motions for the bartender, but never takes his eyes off the other patron at the bar.
"Can I buy you a beer?" He questions.
"No," she answers, in a flat tone.
He takes a glance at her glance. "Can I buy you a drink? What's in the glass?"
"No, I'm fine, thank you."
"Please," he begs.
"I am fine, thank you."
The bartender approaches, and nods at Tony. "What can I get you?" He questions.
"I'll have whatever she's having," he replies.
He looks over at the brunette, and finds that her lips have curled into a smile. The bartender walks away without another word.
"What are you smiling about?" Tony questions her.
"Nothing," she lies.
"Really?"
"I was just thinking that it has been a really long time since anyone has tried to pick me up."
"Why is that? Are you married?"
"No, I guess I'm not. Not anymore," she answers.
"So, you're divorced?"
"I am not," she shakes her head.
He studies her face. The brunette has dark hair, and dark eyes. For a brief second her facial features almost remind him of Ziva. He pushes the thought from his mind, as he stares at the attractive, forty-something at the bar. She sits to his right. He looks to his left, at the half a dozen twenty something's on the other side of the bar. He quickly refocuses on the woman sitting right next to him. The bartender returns, and places the glass in front of him.
"You're not married anymore, but you're not divorced?" He questions as he reaches for his glass.
"Correct," she nods.
He takes a sip of his drink. He swallows as she carbonated beverage tickles his tongue. He smiles at her.
"You're drinking ginger ale?"
"Indeed," she nods.
"You came to a bar to drink ginger ale?"
"Nobody comes to a bar to drink ginger ale," she points out.
"You're being awfully evasive," he points out.
She smirks, "That is my job."
"What do you do for a living?"
"Why would I tell you that?"
"I am just trying to make small talk."
"You are trying to pick me up," she corrects him.
"I don't even know your name."
The bartender overhears their conversation. He interjects as he prepares a drink. He makes eye contact with Tony. "Her name is General."
All color drains from Tony's face. He looks over at her, in disbelief, "He's kidding, right?"
"Just one star," she informs him.
"Just a one star General?"
"Yes," she nods.
"So you're a one star general, who is at a bar drinking ginger ale? You're no longer married, but you're not divorced either."
"That is correct," she nods.
"Why are you here?"
"Why are you?" She turns the question back on him.
"It was a tough day at work."
"Where do you work?"
"Why should I tell you? You certainly are not very forthcoming about any of your personal information."
"You answer my question, and I'll answer one of yours."
"I am Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. I work at NCIS."
"I am a lawyer."
"And a General," he adds.
"Yes."
"And, I am going to go out on a limb and say that you are a Marine."
"What makes you say that?"
"My boss is a Marine."
"Gibbs?"
"You know him?"
"I never said that."
"Who are you, and what are you doing here? I feel like I'm still at work, interrogating a suspect."
"Interrogating, or interviewing?"
"Who are you a lawyer for?"
"JAG."
"Oh," he swallows hard, "And your name is general. Why is a marine working for JAG?"
"It's a long story."
"Why don't I buy you a drink, and you can tell me all about it?"
"I don't drink."
"For religious reasons?"
"Not for religious reasons," she replies.
"Are you going to tell me you name? I told you mine."
"Sarah."
"So, Sarah what are you doing here, if you don't drink?"
"I said that I don't drink, I didn't say that I didn't want to."
"I can't imagine what would drive you to drink?"
"I've been on a carrier, at sea for nearly a month."
"Why?"
"It was part of an internal investigation that took far longer than anyone anticipated."
"So why are you here, instead of at home?"
"There is no one at home."
"You live alone?"
"No," she shakes her head.
"Who lives with you?"
"Why do you want to know? Why are you so interested in my life?"
"There is nothing interesting going on in mine."
"So you're trying to pick me up?"
"There are half a dozen girls down there that I could pick up. It would be much easier for me to do, too."
"So you like a challenge?"
He avoids her questions, "Would you like to dance?"
She shoots him a look. He smiles at her, charmingly.
"You only live once," he reminds her, "And I've never danced with a general."
She looks down at the outfit she's wearing. She's not in uniform. She wears a black v-neck t-shirt, and a pair of dark wash jeans. She shakes her head, and finally gives in. She slides off her stool.
"It's just Sarah," she insists. He slides out of his seat, and offers her his hand. She allows him to lead her to the dance floor.