A hand slammed down on the table, shaking the glasses on it and startling McGee, who had just been beginning to let down his guard. "You knew!"

He looked up and found Ziva's eyes boring into his accusingly. She leaned closer, putting her face inches from his nose, and said it again: "You knew he would be here!"

"I...What? No," he sputtered automatically, realizing halfway through the denial that he didn't even know what she was accusing him of. "I didn't - uh, what was it that I knew?"

"So you admit it!"

"Huh?"

"Aha! You do not know what you didn't know. Which means you did know it!"

He inched his chair backwards, trying to get himself out of her striking distance. "Um, Ziva. I don't know what it is you think I knew, is all I was saying. I haven't left the table since you got up! How could I have found out anything?"

"You didn't need to do anything after I got up. You have already done quite enough!" Suddenly, Ziva pulled back and steepled her fingers together for a long moment, closing her eyes and doing what he could only assume was some sort of calming exercise. Then her eyes snapped open again and she closed the slight gap McGee had managed to open between them with a single step. Her voice suddenly silky, she smiled. "After all, you had done all the difficult work just by getting here, hm?" she asked, resting her fingertips behind his ear in what, if he hadn't known her well enough to fear for his life instead, might have almost seemed like a caress. "Now you can just sit back and enjoy the show. What fun, hm, McGee?"

He still wasn't sure what he was supposed to have done, but he knew enough to deny having any fun with it. He shook his head vehemently, dislodging her hand. "Uh-uh. Nope. No fun."

"No?" Her hand dropped to his shoulder and she leaned even closer. "Perhaps you were hoping for more drama than you have gotten? I'm sure it can't be very much fun setting me up when you then do not get to see the fireworks."

McGee swallowed and steeled himself before meeting her eyes and saying with what firmness he could muster, "Look, Ziva, I don't know what you think I did, but I can assure you that I have not 'set you up' in any way, and I'd appreciate it if -"

"Liar!" Her hand slammed against the back of his chair and McGee winced, envisioning it making contact with him instead.

"I'm not lying." He said it calmly now, reasonably sure that if she hadn't killed him when she thought he was a liar, she wouldn't once he started setting the record straight. "Ok? I wouldn't lie to you, Ziva. Not about something that obviously has you upset. So -"

"I am not upset!" she barked, interrupting him.

He nodded agreeably. "Of course not. You're clearly very calm about this," he managed to tell her without a trace of irony in his voice. "So sit down and - calmly - tell me what it is you're not upset about."

To his surprise, she obeyed, lowering herself into her own chair more than an arm's length away. "I must admit," she said after toying with her drink for a moment, "I am surprised. I would not have thought you could be so mean-spirited."

"I'm not mean-spirited. What's going on?"

She took a fortifying sip of her mojito and continued staring into the glass as she said, "You knew he would be here. You told me I should come with you so I could vent; you chose this place. And you knew they would be here."

That was something to grab onto - something he was completely sure he was not guilty of. McGee shook his head and reached out to touch her hand, making her lift her head to meet his eyes. "I had no idea Tony would be here, Ziva. I've come to this place a bunch of times, and I've never seen him here. Why would you think I set you up?"

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "He carried on a phone conversation in front of you, in which he made this -" Almost involuntarily, she looked over her shoulder at where Tony and Jeanne were sitting. "-date." The word had a foul taste on her tongue, and she had to force herself to spit it out. "As Tony put it, you would have had to be a saint to not have listened."

It would have to be Tony who was getting him in trouble. "Oh, that's how he put it, is it?" Following her eyes, he glared at the other man's back, resolving to give Tony a piece of his mind when he got the chance. "Well, I guess I'm a saint. I didn't eavesdrop on whatever he said, ok? He told me to take a walk, and I did."

Ziva, face impassive, just looked at him.

He tried out a weak smile and a joke: "Just call me Saint Timothy. Pretty sure there is one of those."

Her face remained stony for a moment, and then she snorted. "You are no saint, Timothy. You forget, I have spoken to Abby."

"I - what?"

"On the other hand, you are closer to sainthood than Tony. And you are less likely to be lying to me to save yourself. So very well. You did not know. You swear this to me?"

"I swear." Crisis averted, McGee belatedly took the time to process the last few seconds of their conversation, and he didn't like what he had heard. Swallowing, he signaled the waitress, deciding that he needed a drink after all. "So, uh...what was it Abby told you?"

Ziva just smiled and took another sip of her drink.