March 13
Be slow in choosing a Friend, slower in changing. – Benjamin Franklin, Poor Richard's Almanack
"Hey, Tony," Abby mumbled.
Tony was on full alert immediately. The lab was too quiet, while Abby's usual excitement appeared to have been dampened. And it took a lot of knock the Goth in any way. Part of him was tempted to walk straight back out and fetch Gibbs, while another part told him to stay with Abby and comfort her as best he could.
He slowly walked to her side, judging her demeanor. She was subdued and pensive, very different from her usual bubbly self. Bert was in her arms, being held close for comfort. He really hoped this would not be linked to another crazy ex-boyfriend.
"What's wrong, Abs?" he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.
She sighed heavily. "Nothing."
"Come on," he pleaded. "I'm not going to tell anyone. You'd set Gibbs on me, and I'm scared of being concussed."
Abby gave a weak smile. "He wouldn't head-slap you; he'd kill you and bury your body in his backyard."
He shuddered, mainly for her pleasure. It seemed to work; she allowed a quick giggle to escape her lips. "So, what's wrong?" he repeated.
She considered for a few moments. "Someone I know inside the Navy Yard – Robert – doesn't want to be my friend anymore. He says that I'm too much to handle. Why can't he accept me for who I am?" She hugged Bert closer, resulting in a fart from the hippo.
Tony was confused. "Why would anyone want to stop being your friend? He must be insane! What is he on?"
Abby looked relieved. "I thought he was a nice guy, but he's crazy, definitely."
Tony smiled as he continued opt make her laugh. The loser had no idea what he was missing out on.