McGee's eyes roamed around the dimly lit room looking for somewhere quiet to practise his interview technique. The thumping music made it almost impossible to think, let alone interrogate. His gaze came to rest on a small man sitting morosely at the bar. Steeling himself, he approached with all the confidence he could muster rehearsing the name 'Mickey' over and over in his head. The man turned at his foot falls and McGee watched his initially joyous expression fade to disappointment.
"Ah, hi," McGee started uncertainly.
The other man gave him a brief smile. "You been stood up too?"
"Ah, no," McGee stammered slightly. "Just needed a break."
"Me too."
McGee took his cue and climbed onto the adjacent stool.
"I found John kissing another guy," said the man. "You ever see …." he squinted to read the name tag, "Tommy, kissing another guy?"
A picture of Tony kissing a cross-dressed sailor leaped into McGee's mind. "Why, ah, yes. Yes, I have."
"Did he know you were watching?"
"Ah, yes, I ah, think so."
"Was he better looking than you?"
McGee considered: "Hard to say, really. He was dressed as a woman."
The other man's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wow! Still it's better than being dumped because you have to work late."
McGee laced his fingers on the bar in front of him. "I was dumped for working on Halloween by an Ice Queen."
"They're all Ice Queens," the other man sympathised.
McGee smiled. Maybe he was better at this than he thought.
"Red," the man introduced himself extending his hand.
"Mickey," McGee replied, taking it.
"Is this your first time here?"
"Yeah," McGee replied. "You've been here before?"
"Yeah, I come occasionally. Tonight I was going to meet someone."
There was a pause as they both looked off into the middle distance. "We used to watch the sunrise together…" Red reminisced.
"We've done that!" McGee wisely declined to mention the open grave.
"He leant me his shirt," Red began.
"After mine got covered in blood…" McGee finished. Red was looking at him strangely. "It's a long story."
Red hoisted himself off the chair with a resigned sigh. He looked McGee square in the face. "I am going to try again," he resolved and marched back to the dance floor.
"Me too."
The two agents trudged wearily up the stairs to their room lugging backpacks and picking surveillance equipment out of orifices and clothing as they went. The night had not been productive leading to the inevitable conclusion that they were going to have to spend the night: together.
As expected the room was a fine example of NCIS travel budget in action: sparsely furnished with just a double bed, a rickety TV and a small writing desk in the corner.
Tony's eyes scanned the walls and ceiling. "I'm really sweaty after all that dancing. I think I'll have a shower." He headed for the bathroom door. Reaching it, he turned back to McGee and raised an eyebrow enticingly. "Care to join me?"
"Tony," McGee growled.
"Tommy," Tony scowled, "and I'll thank you not to mention his name in my presence. I really think you need a shower too, Mickey. "
McGee rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to retort then stopped short, reading the message in Tony's expression. "Sure."
They crowded into the tiny bathroom and Tony forced the ill-fitting door closed. He turned the sign to 'Engaged' wondering incredulously how many stars this place was rated.
Tony started the shower. "Did you see it?" he whispered urgently.
"What?"
"The camera facing the bed."
"What! Who'd do that?"
"I don't freaking know, they didn't leave a calling card."
McGee collapsed onto the toilet seat. "This is not good, Tony."
"I know, and it's Tommy."
"It's a nightmare."
"Look, I'm don't like this anymore than you McGeek but someone is watching us up there and they're checking out our story."
McGee paused. "What do we do?"
"What we have to, Probie." He pulled his shirt over his head. "Get your gear off and get wet, we don't want to arouse anyone's suspicions."
"I don't want to arouse anyone's anything," McGee lamented unbuttoning his shirt.