Apr 2
Any woman with a purse that big's bound to have somethin' in it that I don't wanna know about.
Brian Buckner, True Blood, Plaisir d'amour, 2008
Jennifer Shepard smiled at another Congressman and his wife as she traversed the foyer. She was sorely tempted to go over and introduce herself to the aforementioned wife, simply to inform her of the number of times her husband had appeared to forget his vows, but decided to refrain. She was trying to enjoy tonight, not end up in a brawl.
An evening at the ballet was certainly her idea of a good time. The man hovering at her shoulder, staring at her ass in a completely non-protective way, happened to hate anything vaguely cultural, but it had been his choice to protect her six. She had wanted to bring Ziva, so they could combine their official roles in public and discuss the ballet the moment the lights went down. Unfortunately, Gibbs knew their habit and had overruled their plan.
How he was capable of overruling her was a complete mystery, seeing as she was supposed to be his boss, but it seemed a few words in the ears of her protective detail and her girly nights were no more.
Spoilsport.
In revenge, she had given Tony his favorite coffee with an extra six shots of espresso and told him of Jethro's secret affection for sonnets.
From somewhere unseen, a bell rang to indicate five minutes till curtain up. Continuing to smile, she headed for the entrance, Gibbs on her heels. Security were performing a quick bag search. Rolling her eyes, she passed her purse to Gibbs.
"Hold this."
He scowled but obeyed, Security just ahead. To her complete lack of surprise, he opened her purse and had a quick glance inside.
"Jen, are you aware of the –"
"Shut up," she ordered through a gritted smile.
It wasn't until they were through and heading towards their seats that he asked his next question. "Why'd you need such a big gun?"
She smiled sweetly, snatching her purse back. "To shoot you if you disturb me."
