𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄 ━━ 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐳𝐳𝐨

ZERO | wishful thinking

The plane ride is smoother than I expected given three different teams working under one roof.

A formula for chaos.

"Excuse me." The annoying agent from earlier taps my shoulder. "You'll need to stand clear so I can take measurements for my crime scene sketches. Thanks."

Is he actually serious?

"If you couldn't tell from the sketchpad in my hand," I raise the notebook, "I'm doing my own sketches and measurements." My lips curve up in a sarcastically sweet smile.

His eyes run up and down my figure before stopping at my eyes. "Didn't know P.I.s knew how to sketch."

"Didn't know NCIS agents dabbled in wishful thinking."

Way to turn on the charm, Evaline.

"Anthony DiNozzo, Jr., at your service." He extends a gloved hand. "But you. . .can call me whatever — and whenever — you'd like."

I awe at his words. "Cute. You think that I find your type even remotely attractive."

"She's got you there, Tony." The M.E., Donald "Ducky" Mallard, speaks up.

"Ducky, you remind me greatly of my grandfather." I plop down on the couch, freeing the space for Tony to sketch and measure. "God, the stories he could tell us. And he'd go on for days."

"Sounds like our Ducky."

His glasses sit on the tip of his nose, close to falling off. "Now, that is a refreshing change. No one's rather fond of my tales."

I cross one leg over the other, glancing out the window. "When I first boarded this jet, I thought it looked exactly like the one in Air Force One." Tony tilts his head to the side. "You know, the one with Harrison Ford and the terrorists? The interior of this aircraft is modeled exactly like the one in the movie."

"That's what I said. That's exactly what I said." Tony points to himself, jabbing a finger into his own chest.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, DiNozzo."

At that very moment, Agent Todd runs down the aisle, a hand over her mouth, while Gibbs chases after her with an evidence bag in hand.

"Guess someone really needs to use the restroom."

While Agent Todd vomits her guts out, I explore the rest of the aircraft, completing my journey at the President's desk.

"You can't just sit at the President's desk because you feel like it." I glare daggers at Tony, who decided to make himself comfortable.

Tony squints his eyes. "You totally want to sit in the chair."

Damn it.

"Well, what if I do?"

"Pictures?" He holds up a camera.

Gibbs walks in and heads straight into the lavatory.

I roll my eyes before grabbing the camera out of his hand. "Fine."

"What'd you get?" Gibbs calls out from inside.

"Oh, food security's very tight — incognito purchases, randomly selected stores — no one knows they're buying for Air Force One." He pauses for a moment, leaning back in the chair and beaming brightly. "Stewards usually prepare all the food, but today the President had ribs and coleslaw," Tony poses once more, "flown in from a smokehouse in San Antonio."

The two of us switch places where he takes the camera and I sit in the chair.

Wow. I mouth at the comfort.