If, that past year or so, Tony DiNozzo had grown within himself at all, past his endless string of one night stands with waitresses and models and the like, what little maturity and professionalism he had gained somehow flew out of NCIS's perpetually closed third-floor windows the second that woman walked through the elevator.
The silver doors themselves had seen many a beauty come and go, but none seemed to compare to this one. The exotic girl was petitie, at least from what Tony could see of her under all the loose cargo garments she was sporting. From the way she sauntered into the building, hands in pockets, slouched posture, he knew immediately she wasn't Navy, or military. As she moved closer to him, he noticed more specific details about her. Her dark curls were wild and untamed, only held back by a headscarf. Her olive skin was clear; it looked so very soft. A perfect set of white teeth were hidden by pink lips. The last thing he noticed were her eyes: they were the most incredible shade of brown, like deep pools of chocolate. They had a wildness about them too, and regrettably, Tony found himself lost in them faster than he cared to say.
Upon realising he was staring, he quickly picked his pen and set it to the previously untouched file in front of him. A few seconds later, he left her gaze, and looked up to see her hips at eye level, and took the opportunity to closer study her form, his eyes travelling up and down her body, taking in all they could.
"Can I help you, Miss?" he asked, though it sounded a little odd, for he had gone for a tone that resembled helfpfulness, as well as a hint of seduction and a dash of sophisication - an oddly thought out mix for four little words.
One of her dainty eyebrows tritched at his question. Her eyes grew thinner, perhaps examining him as he had her. There was something in those eyes of hers, unique, but...familiar?
She brought a finger to her lip, tapping it lightly. She tutted at him, with a small shake of the head. "You do not remember who I am, Agent DiNozzo?" She said his name with a heavy accent, and her finger traced her jawline as she spoke. He looked again into her alluring eyes. She could see the wheels turning inside his head; Hell, he could feel them. Then something clicked.
His memory, or whatever dusty corner of it he had shoved this particular part of ancient history into, gave him all it could: a flash of perfect skinl her nails clawing at his back as she moaned what he assumed were curses in a foreign language; a night of passionate lovemaking: hot, erotic and mind-blowing.
She smiled at the look that took over his face, satisfied with erself. "There we go. I knew you would not forget me."
He gulped. She was as intimidating as he remembered, and just as cocky, too.
"What can I do for you..." he began, as nonchalantly as possible. "Ziva, is it?"
"Very good," she said as she casually pulled out the chair from McGee's desk and rolled it over to him. She sat beside him and leaned forward. He could see down her shirt, but he knew she was doing that on purpose. A girl like her, he knew, could get what she wanted, when she wanted it. Granted, she probably didn't get to where she was now by flaunting her assets in people's faces; in fact, she obviously wanted to be taken seriously because of the way she dressed, but she knew how to manipulate a man. She knew how to use what she had, and she was using it now. There was something she wanted from him.
"What makes you think I need you to do anything for me?" she challenged.
"Well, you're here, in my office, at my desk, there's obviously something that you want from me," Tony countered, her stubbornness making it a little easier to speak to her.
"Hm." She smiled. "So you do not think it plausible that perhaps I have sought you out for another one of your rather pleasurable rendezvous? Or maybe the opposite: that our paths, of the billions on this planet, were destined to cross again?"
He shrugged. "Is that an offer?"
She pursed her lips in thought. "If I said yes, would you release the man of mine you have in custody?'
"As tempting as that is, I'm not gonna give up a potential terrorist for a quick screw in the copy room."
"What if I made it two quick screws, and told you that Amir Bashav could not have killed your Navy SEAL, because he was with me that night?"
Tony leaned forward, in fascination. "Doing what exactly, Miss David?"
She sighed, and ran a hand through her hair, pulling off her headscarf. "That is classified, Agent DiNozzo."
"Oh, well, I better just set him free then!" he exclaimed with tremendous sarcasm.
She slammed her hands down on his desk and glared at him. "Our mission, Agent DiNozzo, is none of your concern."
"If Amir Bashav killed a Navy SEAL then actually, it sure as hell is."
"We were attempting to terminate targets that we believed were a threat to Mossad's security," she said sternly. "That is all I can tell you."
"Mole in the agency, huh?"
She said nothing, and moved not a muscle. Because of Tony's juvenility, he was often mistakenly underestimated. Ziva did not make that mistake.
"I'll talk to Gibbs about Amir Bashav. If he knows we know about the mission maybe he'll actually be able to give us a liable alibi."
"Where is Gibbs?" she asked wearily, circling around his desk until she was on the other side of it. She vaguely recalled that the last time she had to deal with the ex-Marine she had had a fair bit of trouble.
"Out following a lead with Kate," Tony answered plainly.
Ziva bit the inside of her cheek. "Caitlin is still working here?"
'I do not like that woman,' Ziva thought. Granted, the encounter between the two women had been short, if even classifiable as an encounter, but in Ziva's world, a first impression was more than enough, and Caitlin Todd was not someone she needed to see more of. It was simply a lack of compatibility between them. The puritanical, feminine Catholic woman was the opposite of Ziva. Quite frankly, the Israeli water to slap her.
"So..." Tony said, breaking the somewhat uncomfortable silence. "Does your offer still stand?"
The smile returned to her face. "Maybe. If you release my man."
Tony leaned forward again. Their faces were close. "And if I don't?"
She laughed, tapped the side of his face and walked out of NCIS, her hips shaking with every step, and Tony enjoyed every second of it.
He reluctantly went back to his paperwork, but saw a slip of paper resting on his desk.
On it was an address, a room number, and a time slot. He turned it over, and scrawled on the other side was a note:
"I'll be waiting."