"Here," said McGee.

Tony looked up from his computer. McGee was standing in front of his desk, with a doubtful expression on his face and a hardcover book in his hand. The words, "Deep Six: Outlook Not So Good," were embossed on the glossy dust jacket.

"My publisher gave me a bunch of copies, and my bookshelf is full. I figured you could use it as a doorstop or something."

"How generous of you, Probie. And I didn't get you anything." Tony looked across the bullpen to see Ziva already immersed in her copy, her dark eyes flicking back and forth as she read. McGee dropped the book next to his keyboard, and Tony realized that he had hesitated too long, and accidentally offended his junior agent. It wasn't the first time, but when he insulted McGee he liked it to be intentional.

"I'll need something to read if our caseload doesn't pick up," he said repentantly. "We haven't had anything to do since the Walker case. I've never been so sick of paperwork in my life. And that's saying something."

"No dead Marines is a good thing, Dinozzo," said Gibbs.

"Right, Boss. I'm not saying I want a Marine to die. Maybe they could just get threatened. Or they could roughed up a bit." He met Gibbs gaze. "Or I could shut up."

"I am not sure you could," said Ziva.

When Gibbs took a drink of coffee, Tony knew that he was hiding a grin behind the paper cup.

"Get out of here," said Gibbs,

McGee blinked. "Are you sure, Boss? It's early days yet."

"Yeah, but you're annoying me. Go home. Get some sleep."

McGee and Ziva grabbed their backpacks and headed for the elevator, but Tony stayed behind. He had a couple more requisition forms to fill out.

Gibbs pulled out his cellphone. The weak light from the screen illuminated the movement of his fingers, and Tony smiled when he recognized the familiar phone number.

"Sausage, pepperoni and extra cheese?"

Tony leaned back in his chair. "You even have to ask?"