ZIVA
"Still want that hairy dog, Ziva?" Tony teased as they left work.
She growled. Her head had stopped pounding by lunchtime, but Tony's teasing had continued through the afternoon. "You are treading on thin frost."
"Thin ice," McGee corrected automatically, then shrank away from her glare. "Sorry."
"Well, McGrammar here and I are meeting Abby for dinner, you wanna come with? It's not a school night, perfect chance to test out any theories you have on hangover avoidance."
"I am tired, I should like to go home and-"
"Oh, I think we've found our ninja's weak point, McProbious. No head for red wine."
"I could drink you underneath the barstool, Tony, I just want to have a quiet evening."
"You mean 'under the table' and I still say you're a lightweight."
She narrowed her eyes at him.
"I am not intimidated by you, Tony."
"Just my tolerance for alcohol."
"You don't have to drink, Ziva, it would just be fun to all go out together."
Even though Tim was no doubt being completely sincere, for some reason it was his comment that pushed her over the edge.
"McGee, you will send the name and location of the restaurant to my cellphone. And Tony, you will see that I can drink like a dish."
She turned on her heel and stalked away, but sadly not fast enough to be out of earshot when Tony yelled after her:
"The expression is 'like a fish'!"