Gulp, gulp, swim, swim. 'Err, I wonder where I am.' Gulp, gulp, swim, swim.
Signed: Eric the goldfish.
The car journey home that night was very quiet, Gibbs was thinking and Abby was worrying.
The Director had told her that if she had any more trouble from Abby then she would have no option that to rethink her place at NCIS. In other words misbehave and Abby would get the sack. Not fair at all, she was being picked on by a red headed freakiod who wanted Gibbs for herself.
Well tough, she couldn't have him.
Gibbs however was thinking about fishing, he wondered whether the place Shannon and him used to go was still there. He decided to find out.
The next morning it was raining, flooding, bucketing, raining cats and dogs.
And McGee drove into a tree on the way to work, so he was even later than the rest of the team. He wasn't hurt, just a graze on his face from a piece of glass and a black eye where a branch from the tree had hit him. He'd given up with the car, optioning to get a new one, rather then pay for the ridiculous amounts of work to fix it.
And then another tragedy struck, one that would affect every person who came into contact with Gibbs or Abby that day; the coffee and Caff-Pow dealers flooded. Nobody quite knew what to do, no one had every seen both Gibbs and Abby without their favourite drinks before, and they didn't want to see it ever, full stop, end of matter. But their wishes meant nothing to the weather.
The mood-darken even farther when Abby found the Director had cut her budget for the next quarter.
After fuming about it for a full hour, by the end of which only Gibbs was left in the bullpen, Abby decided to go down to see Ducky.
Dinner was a mute state of a fare, it was Tony's turn to fetch the food and the rest were tying to get every thing done quickly so they could go home.
Gibbs had finished with his paper work and had turned his attention back to fishing. Reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk he pulled out a phone book. Flicking through it he found the page he was looking for and scribbled the number down on a scrap of paper. The elevator carried only Tony when it arrived.
"Hey boss, here." Gibb was handed something wrapped in what looked to be oiled tissue paper. When he raised an eyebrow at Tony all he got was a shrug.
Half way between floors Gibbs flicked the switch. He quickly dialled the number and listened as it rang.
"Hello, Marvin speaking."
"Hmm, you've cut your hair and shaved since I last phoned?"
"Yep, as per your instructions. So what do you want on such a fine day?"
"You still own that nice little place?"
"Why would I sell the most profitable water hole in this 'ere area?"
"Then I think you know." Marvin paused and then rustling could be heard.
"You still hold the deed to that place of yours?"
"Why would I sell the most isolated private cabin in the area?"
"Taking your point. I'll open the gates for eight, so long as I can get up the road without a canoe."
"Ok. Don't tell anyone who calls I'm coming." A grunt was emitted from the man. "Twenty hundred hours sharp." He hung up and, as he slid his phone into his pocket, flicked the switch again.