Tony let his date pick the place. He figured it was only fair since this was their third date together. Which in DiNozzo's book meant the last date, though she didn't know it yet.

Dee, which stood for either Delia, Deidre, or Delilah, picked a newish bar that boasted some live music on the weekends complete with a small dance floor. Tony didn't tell Dee he didn't dance.

The place was bumping and the band was in full swing by the time they arrived. Tony found them a round table. "I'll be right back," he told her. "I'm going to the bar to get some drinks."

The blond bombshell nodded her head then started grooving in her seat to the beat of the music.

Tony shouldered his way through the crowd and then to an empty inch at the bar. "Hey, can I get a whiskey on the rocks and an apple martini? Shaken, not stirred," he couldn't resist adding.

"I know that Bond."

He turned and came face to face with Ziva, hair falling down in a mass of curls over a blue low-cut dress. "Zee-vah! Fancy meeting you here."

She narrowed her dark eyes at him. "Are you following me, Tony?"

He threw his hands up in surrender, unable to retreat because of the crowd. "I didn't pick this place."

She cleared her expression and nodded. "I see. It seems our dates have something in common."

Tony took a swig of his drink that had appeared at his elbow before looking around. "Speaking of which, where is Mr. Friday Night?"

Ziva smirked at him. "That is not his name, Tony. And he is currently in the rest room."

He gave her his famous DiNozzo grin. "Can I buy you a drink while you wait?"

A guy appeared at her elbow, pretty boy looks with his blue eyes and blond hair, Tony noted. "Sorry I was gone so long. There was a line." His accent said south of the Mason-Dixon line. He eyed Tony suspiciously as he put an arm around Ziva. "Is this man bothering you?"

Tony had to laugh. "I'm sure she's capable of taking care of herself."

Ziva shrugged out of the embrace. "No, Tony, I do not need you to buy me a drink."

The guy looked surprised. "You know him?"

Tony gave him his hand and a grin. "Anthony DiNozzo," he introduced himself.

"Thomas Whitten."

Ziva felt the need to explain. "Tony and I work together."

"Are you here alone, Tony?" Whitten asked.

Tony gave him an incredulous look. "No. In fact, I need to get back before her drink melts. You two should join us. Plenty of room."

Ziva glared but Tom looked around and noted the lack of tables. "Sounds great. Let me just get our drinks." Once the beverages were procured Tony led the way through the crowd to his table.

Dee was frowning. "Where were you, Tony? You were gone forever."

He flashed her a smile in lieu of rolling his eyes. "I ran into my partner from work. Ziva David, this is Dee."

"DeAnna Harrison. Only Tony insists on calling me Dee."

Ziva smirked at Tony and he knew he was busted with her for not remembering his date's name. He decided to smirk right back.

DeAnna's voice broke through his thoughts as they all sat down. "So, Ziva, you work at CSI too?"

Ziva gave an indulgent smile. "It is NCIS. And, yes, as stated, I do work with Tony."

The blond smiled brightly. "What do you do there?"

Ziva arched an eyebrow at Tony before addressing Dee. "Excuse me?"

"Well, Tony said he records the crime scene and takes pictures. What is your job?"

"To be a super ninja and flatten anybody who gets in our way," Tony answered for her.

"Whoa," Dee said, wide-eyed. "Like the turtles?" Before anyone could respond she gasped in joy as the live band started playing again. "Oooh, Tony, I love this song. Let's dance."

Tony grimaced and held up his semi-full glass. "Naw, I haven't had enough of these yet."

"But I really want to dance," she pouted. "Just one song."

"Just one song?" Tom suddenly asked, startling the small group. "I think I can oblige you with that. I happen to like this song, too." He paused. "If it is alright with Ziva."

Ziva waved him on. "Yes, fine. One song."

Dee blew her a kiss. "Thanks, Zebra."

The Mossad officer clinched her fists to the woman's back. "Do I look like a zoo animal? Tony, I will have to snap her thin neck."

Tony decided laughing would not be in his best interest. He took a drink instead. "Worry not, Zee-vah. She's not on my friends list."

"Well, if you ask me she isn't the brightest bulb in the shed."

He did laugh then. "I think you just mixed your phrases."

She shrugged her shoulders. "But it fits, yes?"

He paused to finish his drink. "So, what's the scoop on this guy, Ziva?"

She studied him with her dark eyes. "The scoop is, Tony, none of your business."

"We're partners, Ziva. Partners share everything."

"You have not been so forthcoming with your relationships," she pointed out.

"And to make up for that decision, which wasn't mine by-the-way, I am now an open book."

Ziva finished her drink as well before asking her question. "How long have you know her? This triumph?"

"Conquest," Tony corrected. "About a week now."

She raised her eyebrows. "A week?"

"What, too long?"

"Where did you two meet?" she fired off like she was interviewing a suspect.

He took it in stride. "Grocery store. Vegetable aisle."

"After watching you eat I am surprised you know what a vegetable is."

He smirked. "Wrong turn."

"Ah."

"My turn!" he announced gleefully. "How long you and Tommy-Boy been hooking up?"

The voice behind him was startling. "Now, that's an interesting phrase." Tom and DeAnna sat in their respective seats. "What's going on here?" Ziva's date asked with a good-natured smile, reaching out to touch Ziva's hand.

Tony gave him a winsome grin. "Just practicing our interrogation skills."

"Babe," DeAnna placed a hand on his. "Could you get me another drink? Mine's not frozen anymore."

He forced himself not to roll his eyes and, instead, stood up. "Anybody else?"

Tom stood, too. "I'm coming to freshen up our drinks as well."

Tony turned his back, then rolled his eyes at the two dates. How did Ziva end up with this guy? He made up his mind to find out so he made sure Tom was next to him at the bar. "So, Tom, I have to ask. How did you happen across Officer David?"

Tom's face split into a smile. "Why are you asking me that? Why not ask Ziva?"

Tony snorted. "She won't answer because she lives to annoy me," he told him honestly.

The pretty boy laughed at Tony's misfortune. "Then don't tell her I told you."

"Scout's honor."

Tom leaned in to be heard over the music. "I'm a federal employee of sorts."

Tony was shocked, not having pegged him for a government worker. "The Bureau?"

"Oh, no! I work for the post office."

Oh, God, Tony thought, where the hell was the bartender?

Thomas Whitten, Postal Worker extraordinaire, continued. "About two months ago I was working international packing and she walked in, carrying several boxes. She's the most striking person- well, you already know that. We started talking then started dating."

Tony took a second to digest that interesting tidbit of potential blackmail material. "Well, as her partner I must warn you--"

Tom laughed again. "I know, don't hurt her or you'll hurt me."

He raised a brow. "Actually I was going to say Ziva is a trained assassin. If you hurt her, you better watch your back." He smirked as he took his drinks and headed back to the table, leaving the mailman speechless at the bar.