Gibbs hadn't ever really been in McGee's apartment before. To be honest, he hadn't really done much with McGee outside of the office at all. Tim had always come over to his house if they did anything like the occasional dinner - well, that and the time that he'd smashed his shoulder saving the kid and he'd decided to repay him by taking care of him until he was healed. He guess that counted. Still, there had never been an opportunity or strong desire to come and see where the young man lived.

He looked around as McGee rambled on about what he needed to get from the closet, updating him every couple of seconds to let him know that he was still having trouble finding whatever it was he was trying to find. Gibbs wasn't really paying attention. He took his time to see what it was that made this apartment so distinctly... McGee. He ran a finger over the type writer, smirking and shaking his head some, before going to look over the shelves, filled with music. Plenty of records. He had to say, it was refreshing to see something other than scarce CDs and the electronic files they kept in the iWhatever that Abby was always trying to get him to use in a young persons collection.

Picking up a stack of photograph prints, he began to flip through them. He recognized McGee's sister in a few of them and there was a rather nice shot of an old woman he assumed was his grandmother. He was pretty sure she was a little old to just be his mom, after all.

"Found it." Tim's voice was suddenly louder, standing not too far behind Gibbs. He glanced over his shoulder briefly, before looking back to the photos. "It was hiding underneath some boxes. Guess I should... organize a little better. Whatchya looking at, Boss?"

Gibbs shrugged, handing over the pictures. "Didn't know you were a photographer, McGee." It was one of the many things he realized he probably didn't know about his agent.

"I uh... I wouldn't call myself that. More of a... a dilettante, you know?" He was stuttering the way he did when he was embarrassed or nervous and it was met with a stern stare from Gibbs. "It's uh - it's an amateur? Someone who just sort of dabbles-"

"I know what a dilettante is, McGee."

"Right. Uh - sorry."

Gibbs moved his head to let them know they should go. Tim placed the photos down onto the computer desk, grabbing his coat as they headed for the door.

"For a 'dilettante'," he said, almost mocking the word choice, "you're pretty damned good." He didn't wait for a response as he headed out of the apartment. McGee couldn't hep but smile proudly as he locked the door behind him.