Homeplot: Out for Drinks
The bamboozling of NCIS had been successful. Lisa had played her role perfectly and Gibbs had suspected nothing from Lisa or Abby. Tony had gotten a headslap or three for "making eyes at the consultant," and Ziva had accused him of having cats in his belfry at one point (Abby was fairly certain she meant bats), but overall it had gone well. Tim had alternated staring at Abby's legs and Lisa's cleavage, but that was totally normal too.
Petty Officer Zilwicki's death hadn't been solved yet, but they had a suspect and Gibbs had, in a moment of weakness, agreed they could all go out for drinks and continue the case on Monday. They had to wait for the person of interest to return from his trip to San Francisco anyway, since San Francisco was a port city and they didn't exactly want to tip their hand and make the suspect flee the country. Extradition was such a hassle.
After work, they all met at their favorite neighborhood bar. As usual, they crowded into a booth that wasn't really large enough to fit Abby, Tim, Ziva, Tony, Lisa, and everyone's assorted sidearms, but that was the fun of it. She expected Ducky and Jimmy to arrive sometime soon since Ducky had been almost done with an autopsy when she called down. Gibbs wasn't really a coworkerly drinks-type person, so even though she'd invited him, he'd probably be in his basement with bourbon and coffee, working on his boat.
She was practically on Tim's lap, but he wasn't really complaining. For that matter, Tony wasn't complaining about Lisa being very close to him either, although Ziva didn't look too happy about it. Abby sipped her beer (beer! real beer!) and looked around at her friends and coworkers, most of whom she hadn't seen for fifteen months, not that she could admit that without a lot of explaining that probably wouldn't fly anyway.
"To science!" she toasted, which was her usual and expected salute.
Petty Officer Zilwicki's death hadn't been solved yet, but they had a suspect and Gibbs had, in a moment of weakness, agreed they could all go out for drinks and continue the case on Monday. They had to wait for the person of interest to return from his trip to San Francisco anyway, since San Francisco was a port city and they didn't exactly want to tip their hand and make the suspect flee the country. Extradition was such a hassle.
After work, they all met at their favorite neighborhood bar. As usual, they crowded into a booth that wasn't really large enough to fit Abby, Tim, Ziva, Tony, Lisa, and everyone's assorted sidearms, but that was the fun of it. She expected Ducky and Jimmy to arrive sometime soon since Ducky had been almost done with an autopsy when she called down. Gibbs wasn't really a coworkerly drinks-type person, so even though she'd invited him, he'd probably be in his basement with bourbon and coffee, working on his boat.
She was practically on Tim's lap, but he wasn't really complaining. For that matter, Tony wasn't complaining about Lisa being very close to him either, although Ziva didn't look too happy about it. Abby sipped her beer (beer! real beer!) and looked around at her friends and coworkers, most of whom she hadn't seen for fifteen months, not that she could admit that without a lot of explaining that probably wouldn't fly anyway.
"To science!" she toasted, which was her usual and expected salute.