He slouched against her desk, thumbing through a dog-eared copy of Animal Farm. "I'm not xenophobic."
She smiled. "Yes, Tony."
A flick of his wrist sent the book fluttering towards McGee's empty desk and she watched with polite interest as it careened off a mug onto the chair and then finally slid down to the floor. The mug spun towards the edge of the desk and finally wobbled to a stop an inch short of a final drop.
After a pause, into which she mentally inserted the words 'I meant to do that', he coughed. "So, is that 'yes, you're not xenophobic' or 'yes, you are xenophobic'?"
"Yes, Tony." She reached around him to retrieve her bag, drew it over her head, settled it comfortably on her shoulder and walked away.
He caught up while she was waiting for the elevator. "My last date? Before Jeanne? She was-"
"What was her name?" The floor lights flickered on and off along their path; she watched their progress, counted down and wondered how many people had stood exactly here and done exactly the same.
It was her habit, her moment of Zen, at the end of the day and she felt no immediate compulsion to interrupt it for DiNozzo.
"Her what?" He sounded harried but she resolutely hadn't turned to look, so she couldn't be sure.
"Her name, Tony. What was it?"
The light flickered and paused; she took the last free space in the elevator – next to Maya from comms - and turned to face him as the doors began to slide closed.
Yes, he was looking a little harried.
He must have run down the stairs to catch her on the ground floor, although he wasn't too out of breath. Impressive. "Aishah. Her name is Aishah."
"You are not xenophobic, Tony." She patted him absently on the shoulder and tried to decide between Thai and Chinese.
"You're just saying that." He sidestepped into her view, expression caught somewhere between a scowl and an attempt at ingratiation, neither of which sat well together.
It looked uncomfortable and she took pity. "Does it matter?"
"Yes!" The ingratiation gave way to plaintiveness and that was sincere enough that it struck her that, perhaps, he was telling the truth.
"I see." She smiled and stepped around him.
"Wait, Ziva. Come on, talk to me."
"I think you mean," she frowned and shaped her mouth around the word. "C'mon."
"That's ... that's a really weird sound." His expression of horrified fascination she was far more used to. She tried not to take it personally; after all she had been making a point.
"It is a contraction, is it not? "
"I take it all back, your English is flawless. Just-"
"Just what, Tony?" She spun her voice into a purr and watched his shoulders finally slump in defeat.
"We're good, right?"
"Of course."
"You know I didn't mean it."
"Yes."
"I'll never do it again?"
"I believe you."
"So you'll tell McGee to put my computer back to Queen's American?"
She waited for the faint dawning of hope before crushing it with a shake of her head, tinged with just enough regret. "No, I do not believe I will.
If he clenched his jaw any harder, she would begin to have concerns for his helmets. No. Hats. Caps? "I have a report to write and I'm pretty sure Korean isn't one of Gibb's languages, Ziva."
"It might be." She smiled beatifically. "Not everyone is as xenophobic as you, Tony."
Emotions flickered across his expression, at least one of them seemed to be amused. Most, she suspected, were not. "What do you want?"
Only two deep breaths, she had not credited him with such self-control. But, then, he knew he was wrong.
"I also have a report to write …"
He nodded. "Done."
"And the sandwich bar is a very long way to go for lunch."
"Done."
She pursed her lips. "For one month?"
"One month." He grinned a little. "And I won't say anything when you play mix-and-match with-"
"I do not mind if you do."
"You don't?"
"Well, I do want to assimilate, Tony."
Possibly her wide-eyed earnestness was a touch too much; he caught her up near the gym.