"You've got my what?"
Gibbs sighed for the seventh time that day. Tony was trying not to count, but he couldn't help it. He decided, with detached interest, that it was similar to watching the primary red numbers of a bomb timer count down to detonation.
"Your six, Dinozzo," Gibbs said.
"My six what?"
"It's a military term. Six o'clock is the position directly behind an aircraft, so "I've got your six," means..."
"You've got my butt?" Tony asked, narrowing his eyes in confusion.
The timer counted down as Gibbs sighed for the eighth time. "Your back, Dinozzo. I've got your back."
"Oh," Tony said. He smiled. "Oh. Okay. I've got your six too, Boss."
Instead of sighing, Gibbs suppressed a smile, and the bomb was diffused.
