Wash nearly balked at the request. Taking his helmet off would make this conversation that much more difficult for him.

But it was Ziva, and he trusted her. The edge of his lip twitched as she promised no violence, at least of those specific types. If he weren't so anxious already, it might have even been a smile. "You didn't promise not to shoot," he pointed out, reaching up to undo the two latches that held his helmet in place. Once freed, he lifted the helmet off his head and tucked it under his arm. He tried to keep his expression blank and impassive, but the situation was too fresh and too complicated for him to be completely successful, not after he'd already relaxed so much in this dream world. Wash still had a strong poker face, but Ziva might notice it was fraying and unsteady at the edges.