![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
‘C’mon, Duck, is this thing really necessary?’
Ducky ignored Gibbs’s protesting and deftly inserted the subcutaneous transponder into his arm.
‘Jethro, you know full well that your... uh... uniform does not have pockets. And Timothy needs to be able to track your movements, if...’
Gibbs cut him off impatiently.
‘I’m more concerned about not being able to carry a weapon, than I am about not having a phone on me!’
‘Now, Jethro, you couldn’t use your gun with that many children around, even if there was a way for you to carry one and have... uh... access... to it. You’re going to have to rely on your Marine training to subdue this suspect, and you know it.’
‘I still don’t see why I have to wear this thing,’ Gibbs continued to complain, gesturing at the costume that Ducky was efficiently zipping up now that he no longer needed access to Gibbs’s arm.
‘So you’ll blend in to...’
‘But why do I have to be the one...’
‘Because neither DiNozzo nor McGee understands Russian, Jethro,’ Ducky replied patiently, popping the head covering onto Gibbs and beginning to secure it in place. ‘You’re the only one who can identify which one of the guests is talking about the arms shipment...’
The kindly ME’s gentle scolding was interrupted by Tony bursting through the sliding glass doors.
‘Hey, Boss, are you...’ he began, before catching sight of a now fully costumed Gibbs. He burst out laughing, cautiously creeping forward, obviously torn between his desire for a closer look and his instinct to stay out of head-slap range. Curiosity winning out, he stuck out a hand and dragged it slowly over Gibbs’s shoulder.
‘Now, young man, there’s no need to feel Gibbs...’
‘C’mon, Ducky, he’s all soft and furry and... OW!’
Ducky chuckled fondly at the predictable reaction as he watched Tony, still rubbing the back of his head as he left Autopsy, following a Frosty the Snowman-costumed Gibbs.
Ducky ignored Gibbs’s protesting and deftly inserted the subcutaneous transponder into his arm.
‘Jethro, you know full well that your... uh... uniform does not have pockets. And Timothy needs to be able to track your movements, if...’
Gibbs cut him off impatiently.
‘I’m more concerned about not being able to carry a weapon, than I am about not having a phone on me!’
‘Now, Jethro, you couldn’t use your gun with that many children around, even if there was a way for you to carry one and have... uh... access... to it. You’re going to have to rely on your Marine training to subdue this suspect, and you know it.’
‘I still don’t see why I have to wear this thing,’ Gibbs continued to complain, gesturing at the costume that Ducky was efficiently zipping up now that he no longer needed access to Gibbs’s arm.
‘So you’ll blend in to...’
‘But why do I have to be the one...’
‘Because neither DiNozzo nor McGee understands Russian, Jethro,’ Ducky replied patiently, popping the head covering onto Gibbs and beginning to secure it in place. ‘You’re the only one who can identify which one of the guests is talking about the arms shipment...’
The kindly ME’s gentle scolding was interrupted by Tony bursting through the sliding glass doors.
‘Hey, Boss, are you...’ he began, before catching sight of a now fully costumed Gibbs. He burst out laughing, cautiously creeping forward, obviously torn between his desire for a closer look and his instinct to stay out of head-slap range. Curiosity winning out, he stuck out a hand and dragged it slowly over Gibbs’s shoulder.
‘Now, young man, there’s no need to feel Gibbs...’
‘C’mon, Ducky, he’s all soft and furry and... OW!’
Ducky chuckled fondly at the predictable reaction as he watched Tony, still rubbing the back of his head as he left Autopsy, following a Frosty the Snowman-costumed Gibbs.