Tony stretched and yawned widely.

"Drinks, anybody?"

It was the end of the day. End of a very long week, in fact. Ziva was glad it was the weekend.

"Sure, I'll join," McGee said, packing his bag and grabbing his gun.

Her partner then turned to her.

"What about it, Ziva? Up for some socialising? Get away from the office and pretend we are actual human beings for a few hours?"

"No. I am okay."

"Oh, come on, Ziva. You were literally just talking about how tired you were."

"And going out instead of going home will fix that?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"...Yes?"

"No." Ziva said firmly, making Tony's face fall.

"Aw, come on. It's for team bonding. We haven't done that in ages."

Did they really need to see more of each other than they had in recent weeks?

"It does not matter even if I want to because I can't," Ziva told him.

"And why not?"

"I have a prior commitment."

"With Rivkin?" Tony asked shrewdly.

Ziva ignored that comment, it was not worth replying to that.

"I have a Scrabble game tonight."

"What?"

Ziva did not think that she had seen her partner look so outraged in quite some time. It was quite amusing.

"I am playing Scrabble tonight."

"Well, tell then you can't. Team before... uh, friends. No. Wait. What rhymes with team that means friends? Probie?"

McGee shook his head at Tony's question.

"Nothing, really?" Tony asked.

"Really."

"Hmpf, whatever." Tony turned back to her. "Either way, team first."

"They asked first and I accepted."

"Well, unaccept it."

"Tony!" McGee scolded.

"I will not."

It didn't even matter that she was playing Scrabble tonight, Ziva would not have joined them even if she was free. Tony might start asking about Michael again and she was definitely not okay with that. It was none of his business, her relationship with Michael. It did not affect her work so it did not matter. So, what if she didn't say anything about knowing him? He was a fellow Mossad Officer; she had the right to do her own sort of investigation on it before bringing anything to NCIS. That's where her loyalties lay, right? Mossad. She was a Mossad Officer.

"But you also have loyalty to NCIS. To America," that annoying voice in her head whispered.

It was an annoying voice. An incredibly annoying voice. One she could quite well do without.

Anyway, there was no point in bringing anything to NCIS, to Gibbs, if she wasn't even sure herself what was going on. That was also something she was incredibly annoyed about. As a liaison officer for Mossad, she should have been made aware of Michael's presence in America. As soon as he arrived. No, as soon as he left Israeli soil. It was insulting that she was not. But it wasn't like she could complain about this to her father. No. That was not an option.

Michael, however, had the option of contacting her and he did not. And had not replied to any of her attempts to do so. Which was frustrating. And annoying. And somewhat suspicious. She thought so anyway but she wasn't sure whether or not she was overthinking it. It wasn't like she was the best at answering texts when she was busy. Whatever. She wasn't going to waste any ore thoughts on him. What was the saying? The racquet was his now, not hers. He knew her number.

"Aw, come on," Tony tried to plead.

"No, Tony. There will be other nights we can all go for drinks."

"Not with the way work's been," Tony said disgruntledly.

"Well, see you on Monday, Ziva," McGee told her with a pointed look at Tony.

"I still can't believe you're choosing a Scrabble game over us," Tony grumbled.

"It was a prior commitment, Tony."

"Drinks are still better. Actually, you should combine the two."

"Drunk scrabble sounds like a disaster," McGee said doubtfully.

"No," Tony held up his hands. "It's genius, McGee."

"You'll just get people making mistake or making up words."

"Exactly. It would be hilarious. Hence, the genius."

"I am not playing drunk Scrabble," Ziva said firmly.

That sounded like a disaster. She had heard what happened at Amelia' wine nights with parents of her children's friends and those never seemed to end well. Add a competitive game and the propensity to shout in foreign languages to the mix? That was basically asking for a call from the police. Definitely not a good thing.

"You have to suggest that to your friends," Tony urged. "No, wait, you'll say it wrong. I'll tell them."

"You aren't going anywhere near them."

No. That wasn't happening again.

"They loved me."

"They were amused by you."

"Same thing."

"It's really not."

"If you're sure," McGee said as he and Tony left.

"On both points," Tony added.

"I am attending the Scrabble game and I am not suggesting we add alcohol to them," Ziva said firmly.

"Spoilsport," Tony grumbled as the elevator doors shut.

Finally. She would finish off a few emails and then head home herself.

'Ding' went her phone. It was a text message from Amelia.

'You sure you aren't coming tonight? This will make the fifth one.'

Ziva quickly confirmed it and put her phone away. See, despite what she had told Tony and McGee, she was not attending the Scrabble game tonight. There was one on tonight, she had not been lying about that, but she would not be going.

No. She was going to spend tonight at home, alone, not thinking about anyone. Not the team. Not Amelia or Francisca or whoever else was at the Scrabble game tonight. Not Michael. No one. Just herself.

Maybe she would spoil herself and fun herself a nice, hot bath. Yes, that sounded good. Maybe she would even include her scented candles that she so rarely got time to light. And a glass of wine and a good book. Did she have any wine in the house?