Jan 6
The future is here. It's just not widely distributed yet.
William Gibson (1948 - )
Timothy McGee smiled widely as he leaned back in his chair. His report was complete, Gibbs was nowhere to be seen, and he had treated himself to a new toy at lunchtime that he was very anxious to play with.
His brand new, state of the art cell phone had been charging slowly as he had worked out the best way to phrase his report. It had taken longer than expected to explain their latest case, in part due to Tony's chair mysteriously collapsing halfway through the afternoon after he had spent the morning flicking pieces of paper at Ziva. The man would never learn.
With no one to disturb him, he picked up his new phone and began to deduce exactly how it functioned. It did not take him long; he was intimately acquainted with technology. He began to smile again as the device followed his instructions flawlessly.
"What do you have there, McGeek?" Tony queried aloud.
Tim wasn't sure whether to reply or not. On one hand, Tony was always last to finish his paperwork and needed as few distractions as possible. On the other, if he received no reply, he would resort to more drastic measures.
"New phone." An answer, but hopefully not enough of an answer to divert Tony's attention.
"I want that phone."
Perhaps not.
"It's supposed to be really good," Tony continued. "Can I borrow it?"
"No," Tim answered, privately horrified at the thought and aware he would never get it back in one piece if he was idiotic enough to hand it over. "Get your own."
"But I like it," Tony whined.
"Four hundred bucks and you can have your own," Tim pointed out, smiling to himself. Money well spent.
"I'm a government employee. How am I supposed to find that kind of money?" Tony pouted, looking across at Ziva who was studiously ignoring the whole conversation and focusing on her own report.
"Write a few novels," Tim suggested.
Tony pulled a face but Tim continued to smile. It had all been worth it.