"No, Tony, you are mixing up your pronouns again, I told you this already." She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "My family can speak English, I don't understand why you are even going trough the hassle of trying to learn Hebrew for them."

Tony scoffed lightly, grabbing the flash cards out of her hand and beginning to look them over again. His face was serious, his forehead wrinkled in thought. "Because nothing says, 'Hi, I'm a cocky American!' better than forcing an Israeli family that you're visiting in Tel Aviv to speak English with you when they shouldn't have to." At her skeptical look, he sighed, shifting awkwardly in his chair and shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, I don't want your dad using it as an excuse to talk behind my back."

"I knew it. You are always so paranoid."

"Rightfully. Daddy David hates me, remember?"

Ziva shook her head, going to pull the cards out of his arm and slide herself into his lap. Arms wrapped around his neck, her head tilting slightly to the side, hair falling over her shoulder and exposing just the skin of her throat. It was a teasing gesture, a flirtatious one. One meant to distract him. And it was working.

"I will keep them in line," she murmured. "You do not have to worry. Now why don't you forget this for the night and come to bed, hm?"

Tony licked his lips, staring at her for a moment in silence. She was right and he was being ridiculous. The offer was tempting. He took a deep breath, narrowing his eyes at her. "Only if you tell me how to say that in Hebrew."

Scoffing, she smacked his arm with her hand, pulling herself up. "Laila tov," she grumbled, heading to their room and ignoring his chuckles as he picked the flashcards back up.

"You'll thank me when your Aunts and Uncles think I'm the best thing since falafel, you know!"