"And all my pies just smashed to the ground," a woman told them dolefully.
Tony nodded gravely in sympathy. She was a witness to a Marine getting dragged off into an unmarked van. A good witness too because the struggle had happened right in front of her. A bit too close though, pumpkin pies had been sacrificed. Not that she seemed too concerned about how close she came to getting injured. She was more upset about her pies.
"How horrible," Tony commiserated with her.
"It was," and then her face brightened. "At least it was only three. I sold all the rest."
"This early?" Tony asked, impressed. "I'll have to get some the next time you're here."
"I'm here every Friday morning. Always habe been. Always will."
"Even after," Tony gestured vaguely where the van had been parked.
The elder woman sniffed derisively.
"No hooligan is going to cheat me from my spot. It's the best in the whole market and I won't have Betty snapping it up on me."
"And we can't have that," he flashed her a charming grin.
That seemed to sooth her ruffled feathers a little and nodded.
"Exactly. She's been eyeing it up for years. Trying to scheme it away from me. But she never won! Even tried flirting with Clyde, he's the manager of all this, and even that didn't get anywhere," the woman said with pride.
"That is something, Mrs Finnick."
"Call me Gladys, dearie," she told him, patting his arm.
"Well, Gladys it is then," another charming grin for good measure.
Hey, it was working so he wasn't going to complain. Women like Gladys here were always fun to talk to. You got gossip, old feuds, good food and hopefully some information on your case. It was win win all around.
"You make sure you get that young man, you hear me?" She said sternly. "He was such a sweet, young thing."
He and Ziva nodded dutifully.
"Did he visit your stall at all?" Ziva asked.
That was actually a good point. Did he frequent this market? Is that how the kidnapper knew where to find it?"
"Well, no," Gladys said And then frowned disapprivingly. "He was at Betty's, looking at her jams."
"Are you sure?"
She gave him a sharp look that made him wince, regretting his question.
"Of course I'm sure! There's nothing wrong with these eyes!"
"Of course there's not."
First rule of interacting with old people; you didn't make them feel old. All that would get you was a telling of, told that young people weren't respectful these days and then nothing on what they'd actually seen. Trust him, he had done it before. Never again.
She preened at the compliment and with a bit more urging he got what he needed.
Eventually. Ziva actually looked impressed.
"Well, thank you for your time, Gladys," he said as they finished things up. "You've been a great help."
"You make sure you come back and get some of my pies next week," she told him. "You and that girlfriend of yours. You both look like you would appreciate a good pie."
Ziva and Tony exchanged looks of alarm.
"We aren't-" Ziva began.
"She's not-" Tony shook his head.
"We are partners," Ziva finished.
Gladys just nodded solemnly. "Well, whatever you young people are calling it these days."
Tony opened his mouth and then shook his head, thinking better of it. No good would come trying to explain him and Ziva to a casual bystander. Better to just nod your head, say your goodbyes and walk away.
"Does pumpkin pie even taste good?" Ziva asked sceptically as they did just that.
Tony made an outraged nose, unable to form coherent words.
"Well?" There was an expectant look on her face.
He started spluttering, this time some words came out but they didn't make any sense if Ziva's annoyed look was anything to go by. Tony paused and took a deep breath in an attempt to gather his thoughts before trying again.
"Does pumpkin pie taste good? Does pumpkin pie taste good?"
Okay, that was an actual sentence, still not fully coherent, mind you. Nor did it answer Ziva's question.
"Yes, that is what I asked, " she said impatiently.
He gaped at her for a second more before answering, "Of course it tastes good! It tastes fantastic."
"That is good to know."
"Have you not tried pumpkin pie when we've gone to Gibbs' for thanksgiving?" he demanded.
It had definitely been on the table. Abby had made sure of it. Claimed that she'd used a great-aunt's recipe and everything. And it had been delicious.
She shook her head.
"Why?"
How could you have thanksgiving dinner and not have a slice of pumpkin pie? The very thought was mind boggling.
"I was so full I could not eat anything," she said with a shrug, a hint of defensiveness in her tone.
"Too full for pumpkin pie?"
He just couldn't believe it. No, he refused to believe it.
"Too full for anything."
Tony just shook his head in disbelief.
"We need to correct that. Immediately."
He wasn't sure how they were going to do it but they were going to do it.
"It is not that urgent a matter, Tony."
"Of course it is!"
Ziva shook her head again but didn't say anything. Probably because she knew he wouldn't listen. Too full for pumpkin pie? Who had ever heard of such a thing? What sort of monster did he have for a partner?
"Too full for pumpkin pie," he tutted to himself.
"Yes. Because I was. I was not going to make myself sick for a pie."
"Pumpkin pie wouldn't have made you feel sick."
"It would have because of the amount I had eaten."
"There is always room for pumpkin pie."
It was like you had a separate stomach for it. He could be absolutely stuffed on turkey and potatoes and who knows what else but still manage two slices of pie, no problem. And he told Ziva as much.
She didn't look too convinced.