"So what does it mean?"
"I screwed up. Gibbs can barely even look at me now."
"It's not your fault."
"Yes, it was. It was my fault. I never should have gone there in the first place."
"So it's going to be awkward for a little while, it's not that big of a deal."
"You're kidding right? It's a big deal. It's a huge deal. I..."
"It could be worse."
"No, it couldn't," she argues.
"Sure it could. It could always be worse."
"How could it be worse? I can't imagine how it could possibly be any worse."
"Someone could have seen the two of you."
"That makes me feel so much better."
"Or... you could be pregnant. That would be worse. Can you imagine how awkward that would be? That's a conversation I'd like to see, you telling Gibbs, that you're having his love child," he jokes, expecting a smile from her.
She doesn't smile. She stares at him. He notices all of the color drain from her face. He locks eyes with her.
"You're not pregnant, are you? Who am I kidding? Of course you're not. I'm sure you're not. You don't think that you are, do you?"
"No."
"See, it could be worse."
She shakes her head, "I already know that I am."
"What? You can't be serious."
She doesn't smile, or laugh. She just stares at him, with the look of fear, in her eyes. He motions for the bartender. The bartender brings him another drink. He swallows it in one drink. He slams it on the bar. He looks at her.
"That's why you're drinking ginger ale?"
"Not at first. At first it was because I didn't want to do anything else, stupid."
"How long have you known?"
"Two weeks."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"Why would you want to know? It's not something that comes up in casual conversation."
"You should have told me."
"Why?"
"At the very least, just to get it off your chest. Does anyone else know?"
"No, no one knows. You can't tell anyone, either."
"I wouldn't tell anyone. If you want them to know, you're the one who should tell them."
"I don't want to tell anyone."
"Why are you telling me?"
"I had to tell someone. I..."
"You're freaking out?"
She nods.
"What can I do for you?"
"Nothing."
"Are you sure? You can talk to me. I'm not the greatest listener, but I try hard."
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Who cares?"
She gives him a questioning look.
"I mean, who cares what you are supposed to do. You need to do what you want to do. What do you want to do?"
"I... how am I supposed to make a decision, like that?"
"You're probably not going to want to hear this, but I think that you've already made a decision."
"I think that I would know, if I had made a decision."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"That's why you're sitting here, at a bar? Drinking ginger ale? Agonizing over what to do?"
"I..."
"You've known for two weeks. That is plenty of time, to do something."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that I don't think you want to do anything, because if you did, it would already be done. If that's what you really wanted, we wouldn't be sitting here, talking about it. You wouldn't tell me about it, at all. You wouldn't be sitting here, expecting my advice."
"I..."
"You want me to tell you the truth, or what you want to hear?"
"The truth."
"You always expect the truth from me."
"Why should now be any different?"
"Because this is life changing."
"Tony... please."
"It's your choice. You can do anything you want."
"But?"
"Is that what you want?"
"I...I want to do what's right."
"For who?"
"For me. I'm the one who has to live with it."
"Can I make a suggestion?"
"Mmhm."
"Take the other part of the equation away. Then what do you want? If it wasn't so complicated, what would your decision be?"
"I don't want to tell him."
"You can't keep it from him."
"Why not?"
"It's wrong."
"But..."
"I think it would be ok, to wait, to tell him."
"You do?"
"I mean things happen. You should know for sure, that everything is going to be ok, before you tell him."
"What if he finds out?"
"Tell him the truth."
"I don't know if I can do this."
"You don't have to," he reminds her.
"But I want to."
"You're sure?"
"Yes. I don't know why. It's completely ridiculous. This shouldn't be happening, not like this. I can't explain it..."
"But you want this?"
"Is that wrong?"
"No."
"But I..."
"You screwed up. I'm not going to deny that. You really, really screwed up, but..." he trails off.
"But what?"
"Loving your future child, there's nothing wrong with that. I would be more concerned, if you didn't."