Thanks, Goddaughter! I'm glad you're enjoying this so far! I agree that Gibbs would be an awesome boss – well, once you got used to his style of course – and as long as he liked you. Hehe. I'd probably be nervous and flustered and keep saying sorry all the time and he'd get really annoyed.
Entering the local coffee shop down the road from NCIS Headquarters a few days later, Gibbs scanned the small tables for the woman he had scheduled to meet here. He had no idea what she looked like but he had a feeling he'd know her when he saw her. He was right.
She stood, as if she too recognised him straight away. She wasn't particularly tall – maybe as high as his shoulder - and her figure was all curves. In a really good way. Not blatant but just really nice. She was particularly pretty with large hazel eyes framed by nicely arched dark brows and curly medium brown hair streaked with gold. Her lips were full and as she smiled welcomingly at him, her whole face lit up in a way that made him feel suddenly warm.
She looked too pale to be Australian but then she'd been in the States for a few years now at least and he had no idea what her ethnic origin was anyway. He'd guess at some kind of anglo-saxon and germanic mix. Her skin was nice though. It looked soft.
Even though Gibbs had noted her physical attractiveness, he doubted that it was this fact that had inspired such devotion in her former bosses. Yes, she was attractive but she wasn't completely stunning or overtly sexy. There was a slight self-consciousness about her that was apparent in her body language that made her seem vulnerable and very feminine.
As he neared her and she held out her hand to him, he annoyed himself by noticing the swell of her full breasts that became more apparent with the movement of her arm. He forced himself to raise his eyes to her own instead. Man, he thought to himself, DiNozzo is not going to be able to think straight if I hire her.
"Special Agent Gibbs?" Her voice – still with its Australian accent despite the few years she'd lived in the States – was questioning despite the fact that she obviously knew that she was greeting the correct person. As if she was second-guessing her instincts. Doubting herself.
"Yes, and you must be Evangeline Daniels." He was pleased that her handshake was firm and confident despite whatever other self-doubts she harboured behind those warm eyes.
"That's me." She smiled again. "I hope you don't mind but I ordered a coffee for you."
"That was very thoughtful of you, Miss Daniels." He replied as a waitress placed a steaming cup in front of him. He'd never actually drank coffee in this place before. It had always been strictly take out. It was a nice enough place and the lounge chairs they sunk into at her table were comfortable yet firm enough allowing Gibbs to maintain his dignity. The last thing he wanted was to be sprawled awkwardly across some lounge whilst trying to get a handle on what this young woman was all about.
"Oh, call me Angel." She told him, her lovely smile wide. "Evangeline is such a mouthful and Miss Daniels makes me feel like I'm back in catholic school and in trouble. If you don't mind me asking, what should I call you? I'm not sure how your salutation works… is it Agent Gibbs?"
Gibbs smiled. "That's correct. You can just call me Gibbs though if you want."
"Cool." She replied, reminding him that she was very much more of Abby's age group than his. She took a sip of the water that was in front of her.
"You're not having coffee?" He asked her suddenly amused that they were sitting in a shop that served almost nothing but coffee.
"I know it's terribly anti-social but I don't actually drink tea or coffee. Or alcohol actually."
"How come?"
Angel shrugged. "I don't really like it. The alcohol thing is more about retaining control though. I prefer to have my car on hand and be able to drive it whenever I need to. I don't like relying on other people to have my back if I can help it."
"Find it hard to trust people, huh?"
She considered this. "Hmm, not really. I'm not really sure how to explain it. I guess I just got let down by too many people when I turned 18 and first started going clubbing. I like being in control of when I can leave if things go south. I don't mean it to sound cynical but you can't always count on other people to take care of you. You have to be able to take care of yourself."
"True enough. And yet you have an instruction manual from a whole list of Generals who want to take care of you."
Angel laughed at that. It was a pleasant sound. "Ah, but I'm not relying on these referrals, Gibbs. I appreciate them – it means I've been ending up in jobs that I enjoy and working with good people. However, if necessary I can always just sign up to a temp agency. No offence but compared to Americans applying for the same types of jobs as I am, my computer skills alone blow them out of the water. I could still pick and choose a fair bit."
Gibbs noticed that whilst obviously confident about her skills she blushed a little when actually mentioning them. He guessed that she wasn't that good at selling herself in a normal employment interview. Which meant that the 'instruction manual' would be particularly useful as it had several Generals answering all the typical questions for her.
"It seems to me…Angel." He tried her name out. That would take some getting used to. It sounded to him almost like an endearment and the strangest thing was how comfortable it felt using such a cute nickname for her. "That this meeting is more about you deciding whether to pick NCIS over wherever else you could work, rather than me deciding whether or not I want you to work for me."
Angel blushed, fiddling awkwardly with a napkin. "Is that a problem?" She asked finally. "I mean I'm not assuming that you're interested in hiring me or anything but yes, I do feel like I have the ability to choose whether or not I accept any offered position. For most of my working life I haven't been so lucky – there are long periods of time where I was unemployed because I was afraid to risk going back to more potential badness…"
She broke off, and waved a hand as if it didn't bother her any more when obviously it still did to some degree. "Well, anyway, I assume you read all about that crap. My point is, that I've been extremely grateful for these past few years where I've been made to feel important and that I matter. To have these really amazing, powerful and confident military types actually care about whether I was going to be okay. Where I can confidently move onto the next job and know that the person I work for isn't going to be a complete bastard."
"I've been called a bastard plenty of times before." Gibbs warned her.
Angel grinned. "Oh, I've heard stories about you, Gibbs. And I'm not afraid. Wary, but not afraid." Her grin turned cheeky then and she almost giggled. "Apparently as long as I keep you supplied with plenty of coffee then I may just make it out of this whole shebang alive."
Gibbs almost blushed. She was teasing him. Testing him probably too. "Coffee is good – not that you'd know since you don't drink it." He raised an eyebrow.
"Please don't tell me that makes you biased against me?" She asked, her hand to her chest in mock horror. "I'd be so disappointed in you, Gibbs!"
He had to smile at that. She reminded him a little of Abby. He was certain that the two of them would get along brilliantly.
"I actually had a boss once," She confided suddenly. "One of the good ones, by the way, that told me that he never would have hired me if he knew I didn't drink tea or coffee."
"Really?"
"Yeah, he figured it meant that I wouldn't be constantly thinking about getting him a coffee if I wasn't grabbing one for myself."
"I suppose in your line of work you might get called on to make a few teas and coffees here and there."
"Yeah, most of the time I totally don't mind but sometimes I've found it annoying. Especially when I was working at a university and they wanted me to keep the coffee pot full at all times. How was I supposed to know when it got low if I never went near it?" She laughed. "Oh, and If the people I was working for weren't nice then I tended to make the tea or coffee badly so that they wouldn't ask me to do it again."
"Nice strategy." Gibbs approved.
"Bottom line is, however," She said seriously. "I have no problem with running errands – such as fetching coffee or whatever."
"As long as they ask nicely and say please?" Gibbs asked, more than a hint of sarcasm accidentally escaping.
She frowned. "No. They don't have to be nice. They have to deserve it."
"Deserve coffee?" Gibbs was confused.
"No, deserve respect. I don't expect you to understand me, Gibbs. And I'm not asking you to. Not even with the silly manual. Look, I'm kinda old school in a way. Respect your elders and whatnot. I'm 30 and I still have a tendency to treat my employers as if they're the adults and I'm the child. A habit the various Generals have been trying to break, by the way. I'm not assertive enough apparently. Part of all that – and it's a part of myself that I'm happy with – is that I like doing things to help people. Especially people I'm working for who do important and stressful work and that all this little mundane stuff I can do for them is one less thing that they have to think about. Probably seems pathetic to you."
"No. Not at all."
"The thing is, when I'm working for the wrong type of person it means I get treated like a doormat or worse. However, when I'm working for someone worthwhile it makes me…"
"Invaluable." Gibbs told her.
She relaxed and smiled again, her defensiveness dropping once again behind her self-deprecating style. "Hardly! More like useful and appreciated. I feel needed. It's just nice and nice is good."
"Yes," Gibbs agreed, thinking about how sweet she was and how he was starting to get a much better handle on why the various Generals were so devoted to keeping her safe. "Nice is good."