Elizabeth doesn't know what to expect from her first baby shower and is, in fact, rather apprehensive when she arrives in the bar this evening. Not that she would let reticence keep her away however, and once the door is shut and she's had a chance to look around she is too busy taking in the decorations to concern herself with how strange the
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"I believe he thrives on them, Mr. Gibbs."
It's wry, but also a little fond -- if one listens closely enough.
"I confess." She gives him a sidelong look. "I agreed to this partly to see if he'd come."
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She smiles thinly. That might be the hormones talking; or not.
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She knows something of that.
"If I had my way, I would always be able to locate both with maps and instruments. It would be safest."
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Gibbs wobbles a bit from the numbing effects. "If the captain does not mind, I need to be sitting."
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"The captain does not mind at all. Permission to sit granted, Mr. Gibbs." Beat. "There's good food on offer as well."
In case he'd been blinded by the free rum.
"We shouldn't deny ourselves when the opportunity to eat well is before us."
Translation: Maybe food would soak up some of the drink.
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