Switch
Your morning did not start out in your favor: You spilt your coffee, effectively scalding yourself; took the wrong bus to some forsaken part of town full of lewd and vulgar men, one in which you promptly had to drop kick because he was attempting to solicit you; eventually you hailed a taxi and arrived at work tardy. Your explanation regarding your hellish morning was received without any empathy by Gibbs, who fixed you with a glare of ice, though you did evade a head slap.
In punishment for your delayed entrance to work, Gibbs appoints to you the task of interviewing the victim's wife, whose own horrible morning had undoubtedly surpassed yours, for she was the sole witness, via phone line, to her husband's murder. And while you are not socially inept, you are not entirely comfortable speaking to this woman, sitting in her car, in complete hysterics, for you are not exactly sure as to what you are supposed to say. Do you offer your condolences? Pass her a tissue? Pat her shoulder reassuringly? You decide against physical contact, and you haven't a Kleenex on you –and you distinctly remember at the last funeral you attended you wanted to strangle the next person to parrot, "I'm so sorry," when they so clearly didn't know the deceased. You settle for awkward conversation and a bewildered fish-out-of-water expression.
Later, you make another fatal mistake when you consult Jenny in regards to the case you are working on. And when Gibbs receives a call from the director, and you are horrified when he hung up on her, he steers you quickly, and angrily, into the elevator –which you now identify as the unofficial conference room of the MCRT. He growls words accusing you of what equates to treason, by-passing a link in the chain of command. Insulted and frustrated, you fire back that you were merely respecting authority, because you are not the moron you seem to have been pegged as and wish to be treated with some deference. After a brief war between you and him, each struggling for dominance and control of the emergency switch, an unspoken impasse is reached and you accompany him to another interview. You manage to avoid another potential head slap.
You're talking to fill the silence of the car, and he is blatantly ignoring you. You, however, refuse to be ignored, engaging him with questions and sharing bits of knowledge you inherited from your father (why on earth you say this you have no idea). Finally, Gibbs mutters something about needing to get his radio fixed and you silence yourself to save face.
Throughout the case you learn several things. Contrary to first impressions, Agent DiNozzo is terrible at charades, pantomiming something about pants and dancing while you watch an interrogation with him. Also, Americans have a dreadful taste in clothing, some men preferring to wear atrocious shirts in obnoxious prints (you make a mental note to ask Jenny who Magnum is, for his designs were unfamiliar to you). And in regard to all things American, you are coming to detest American colloquialisms and the idiosyncrasies of the English language.
Eventually the killer is captured as well as the victim's marmoset (you are beginning to notice distinct differences between NCIS and other government agencies –the marmoset doesn't seem to warrant much surprise). However, your greatest stride of the day? Coaxing the bitter Goth into letting you help her reassemble a suitcase that was blown to . . . . smithereens because, while you may not have a firm grasp yet on where you've found yourself at this point in your life, you are perfectly capable of solving jigsaw puzzles.
And despite the shortcomings of the day on your behalf, you are still permitted to return to work the following day. This impresses you even more than the marmoset manifestation.