By Lauren S
Sam's back! It's not clear whether it is for good or only temporary; Josh offers him the Deputy Chief of Staff position, and Sam says he will consider it. Josh is busy becoming so wrapped up in work that he can't do anything but chug Mylanta and yell at everyone, especially poor Otto. After Sam witnesses one especially bad meltdown, he gives Josh an ultimatum -- he'll only consider the position if Josh takes a vacation and calms down. Oh, and one other detail that's not helping Josh's anxiety is Donna, who very nicely tells him they've got four weeks to figure out what's going on with their relationship, which Josh thinks is an impossibly quick timetable. Fortunately, she sticks to it and seems pretty sure that he'll figure it out sometime. Donna's also in a good mood since Helen asked her whether she'd like to be the First Lady's Chief of Staff. Santos is working on taking over the Kazakhstan situation and does so by undermining what Bartlet has already done on the phone to the Chinese President, which the NSA learns of through a wiretap. Bartlet's staff freaks out after delivering a warning to look like he's keeping up Bartlet's efforts, but when Santos meets with Bartlet, he admits he wants to take action, and is working to try and scare both China and Russia out of beginning a war. With everyone slightly more comfortable with their various transitions Josh does take that vacation, and in the best idea he's had since the election, he invites Donna to go with him.
I'd like to start off with a hearty thank-you to Bravo for rerunning the current West Wing episodes on Monday nights, and a long glare in the direction of my TiFaux for deciding to delete not one of the eighteen movies I gratuitously taped off of my three months of free movie channels, but the very episode that I was just about to recap right after it aired on Sunday evening. Let's not try shenanigans like that again, mmmkay?
On a plane, Josh is totally the person you thought would be quiet and fine to sit to, but then turns out to be almost worse than a talker, because he's twitchy and going through about a foot-high stack of papers that keep falling over into your lap. Oh, and he has a cold, and does some pretty revolting nose-plugging thing. Josh is clearly not endearing himself to the man to and the woman in front of him, though I'm not sure why, since his pillow actually sticks to the back of his head when he leans forward.
Santos is kicking it back behind his desk, on the phone with the British Prime Minister, who has seemingly called to offer her congratulations. The camera pans to show Ronna helping him out, and Santos exclaims over the length of the call sheet. Ronna explains to Santos that he's expected, per tradition, to return all of the calls to the G8 leaders, but that his foreign policy advisor can return the others. Santos wisely points out that he should hire one then. Ronna: "Yes, Congressman...Mister...Sir." Tee, poor Ronna. Santos just smiles at her.
A driver looks in the rearview mirror at Josh, and rather delightedly says that he's seen him on TV: "You look younger." Josh is decidedly not amused, and is busy eating his pen, but points out the aging powers of the television lighting. "I meant on TV you look younger," the driver politely corrects him. Josh actually diverts his eyes up from his Blackberry for a second. The driver conversationally continues to inform Josh that he voted for "the other guy," but Josh merely points out that "a lot of people did." Clearly not getting the hint that Josh needs time alone with his clutter, the driver adds that he didn't want his taxes raised. When Josh tells him they won't raise his taxes (sounding increasingly tired and slightly exasperated), the driver then comes back with "Well, Vinick was gonna cut them." Josh exclaims -- or, I think he's meaning to exclaim, but he's a bit too tired to really exclaim convincingly -- "Not for you! For the guys you drive around." Ah, so like Josh. He adds, "Hey, you think I can afford to travel around like this on my own?" The driver responds with a genial smile: "You just let the American public pay." Wow, way to alienate your customers, dude. And let the record show, I do believe Josh was muttering away in Coach on the plane earlier. So the American public isn't that generous. Josh just asks, "We almost there?"
Elevator doors ding open, and out walks Josh "Take That Minuscule Tip From The American Public, You Snotrag" Lyman. He jets into an office and dances quickly past the distracted receptionist and down a hall around the corner.
Santos is now on the phone verbally glad-handing the German Chancellor. After he hangs up, Ronna tells him that it's time for Russia's President, and there's a long silent moment. Ronna adds, "He's one of the G8s." "He's also a leader of a nation we may find ourselves exchanging hostile fire with any minute," says Santos. But after a not-really-long-enough pause, he just says, "Call him." Jimmy Smits needed to play that line just a little bit better for me to believe that he cared at all.
There's some sort of meeting with a lot of suits in a room and a panoramic view of shrubbery on mountains out the wall of windows behind them. I have no idea what they could be talking about, but it doesn't really matter since, at that moment, Josh opens the door and walks in. Boring Meeting Leader asks whether he can help Josh, when the chair in front of Josh swivels, and we see Sam! Cute Sam, who looks only the teeniest bit plastic. Sam swivels back to the table, and tells them he'll need to be excused for a moment, all without Josh uttering a word. Sam's up out of the ergonomic chair, and, as he walks out, says to Josh, "I thought you'd never call."
Sam and Josh are walking out of an office building with palm trees in front, so we know it's California. Josh is saying, "You knew you'd hear from me." Sam: "Gave me a chance to hone my turndown." That's why Josh came in person, and Sam adds, "Gives it a nice nostalgic symmetry." "Style points!" Josh gives himself. "If nothing else," Sam concedes, but Josh adds, "Substance, too. This guy's the real deal." "You said that last time," Sam points out, and Josh replies, "Yeah, and look how right I was!" (Although this time it seems like Santos is not a real enough deal to keep viewers watching the show, but I digress.) Josh is undeterred: "Tell me you don't miss it." "I don't miss it," Sam replies evenly. "Liar," Josh accuses. "Attorney," Sam corrects. Touché, Sam. Sam congratulates Josh on the work he's done, and Josh poo-poohs it, saying that it's here on out that's important. Knowing where he's going, Sam asks, "Do you know how much I'm making now?" Josh doesn't want to know: "It's gonna make me want to puke." Sam: "Not make you want to. You'll actually puke." Man, why didn't I become a lawyer? I wouldn't be hanging out in plaid Gap pajama pants with a striped sweater right now if I had, I'll tell you that. Well, come to think of it, I probably would be. I'd just be having a really high-quality glass of wine at the same time. Josh tries to convince Sam that his bags of money mean that he can come take a pay cut to work in Washington, but Sam is happy with what he's doing now.
Josh and Sam banter, and finally Josh points out that he nearly lost the election, and that's made him appreciate this chance even more. Sam's still not biting, pointing out that he's also got a life in California: "I'm getting married." "I've heard that before..." Josh replies, and when Sam exclaims in horror, Josh adds, "Congratulations! Is what I mean." At this point, Sam asks Josh the question he's certainly not going to answer truthfully: "So what about your life?" Josh replies with silence, only seeming to prove Sam's assumptions on that point. "What was I thinking?" Sam asks, and Josh protests that he's been busy. Sam cautiously adds, "That explains the..." "The what?" Josh squeaks. Sam's mouth is tight, dimples dimpling, as he looks over his glasses at Josh: "Your general..." Josh: "What? It's the hairline, isn't it." "It's...retreated," Sam concedes, politely. "It's routed, like Napoleon out of Moscow." Sam helpfully saves himself: "There's also a pallor issue." "You live in Melanoma Central," Josh counters. "Healthy glow turns out to be oxymoronic." True, Josh, but there's "beautifully alabaster pale," as I like to consider myself, also living in Melanoma Central, or "pasty crazed hermit," which Josh is starting to resemble. Okay, fine, FINE, so "pasty" might also be applicable to me in some circumstances. ONLY SOME! I reserve the right to mock you, Josh, since sometimes I have so many freckles that they give me the illusion of some color.
Sam gives Josh a bottom line, which is that he'll help with the inauguration speech, but Josh is insulted: "That's not what I flew out here to ask." There's a pregnant pause, and then Josh offers, "Deputy Chief of Staff. You're me to my Leo. Think about it." Finally, after twisting Sam's arm a bit, and admitting that he's acting like his mom, Josh gets Sam to agree to consider it. Josh then waits about half a second before checking back in: "You done?" Josh is clearly not getting the point here -- he can't understand what Sam really has to think about. Sam: "For one thing...whether I really want to end up looking like you." Sam sounds at least a teensy bit guilty at this, but? Good point.
Bartlet and C.J. are meeting in the Oval. C.J. reports that the cleanup figures for San Andreo are bad, and Bartlet adds that Team Santos will freak out at the Kazakhstan figures as well. I can't help wondering, though, whether Bartlet doesn't have the tiniest amount of apathy since it's not his problem any more, like I am right now at my job, where I only have two days left. Then again, when you're President of the United States, you might be even more emotionally invested than, say, I am. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt on that one, and maybe not use myself as a perfect comparison. C.J. reports that Santos will be by for a Sit-Room meeting on the Kazakhstan situation, and Bartlet tells her to be as helpful as she can be in making the transition; they can be difficult, etc. Bartlet also demands that there be no pranks. "That turned out to be apocryphal," she says. C.J., stop confusing me with five-dollar words! Thank goodness for my handy thesaurus translating West Wing banter to normal-recapper-speak: the tales Bartlet heard about cutting cables turned out to be entirely mythical. Bartlet wants no myths, then: "We're going to leave with some class." She smiles. C.J.'s looking great in a grey suit that makes her look even taller and leaner than she already is. Way to show off the height for tall girls everywhere, C.J.! Debbie comes in to let Bartlet know that Marine One is waiting, but he shuffles papers, and points out, "It's not going anywhere without me." Ah, to be Leader of the Free World.
Obnoxious Driver is back, asking Josh whether he only came out for the day, and commenting on the expense. Josh explains that it's a "frequent flyer thing," and then does what we all do in these cases: makes a phone call. O.D. just blathers that he has clients who come out for a day just for a haircut; Josh needlessly points out that he didn't get one. He starts his phone conversation, and O.D. still goes on, until Josh has to point out that he's on the phone, and seriously? How did this guy get a job driving rich folks around without learning to be respectfully silent? It turns out that Josh is on the phone with Otto, who's sent him a new call sheet that Josh insists consists of people looking for jobs, not really offering congratulations. Otto uses that moment to ask what his own job might be, but Josh brushes him off: "You're on the short list for V.P." Otto's face falls, as Josh goes on to tell him to set up a meeting with Lou.
Donna and Helen are looking at photos and floor plans of homes. Helen seems kind of aghast that "They're all mansions!" Donna explains that these are normal homes for the incoming First Family, but Helen can't get over their size, and seems awkward at the choices being offered. Donna's phone rings, and she says, "Excuse me, ma'am." Helen incredulously asks, "Did you just 'Ma'am' me?" "I...I seem to have," Donna answers, a little bit shocked herself, and Helen mock-orders, "Don't do that again." They smile, and I really like the camaraderie between the two right now.
It's Josh on the phone. Josh and Donna still sound a bit awkward with each other, but Donna asks about Sam and finds out that he's thinking about Josh's propostion. Josh, all-consumed with everything Santos Administration, sounds let down, and Donna guesses, "You didn't expect him just to say yes, did you?" "Kind of!" Josh squeaks. A cross-country move and career change might not be a split-second decision, Donna tries to explain: "I'm sure he's got stuff to figure out." "What stuff?" Josh whines. "It's service to the President! What stacks up against that?" Donna gently says, "Well, not everyone's like you. So..." "Dedicated?" Josh asks. Yes, keep thinking that, psycho. "Monomaniacal," she replies. Josh waits a moment, and then finally asks whether Donna will be around, "generally." His voice by now is cracking like a twelve-year-old's, as he sputters out an awkward request to talk about them at some point. Donna looks pretty pleased at the notion and agrees that it's a good idea. As Josh cracks and sputters along, Donna tells him to have a good flight.
Santos is arriving for the meeting, and some Music Of Impending Doom tells me that this might not go so smoothly. He enters a meeting already in session, and C.J. tells him that Hutchinson and Dr. McNally (hi, Nancy! Welcome back!) will be catching him up. As Hutchinson explains the plan for troops in the buffer zone, Santos paces the room, and Nancy watches him. Santos finally sits, and asks questions. After all the logistics, he's told that, so far, there have been no "incidents" on the ground, but C.J. also jumps in to say that neither the Russian nor the Chinese forces have retreated, either. In a silver-lining tone, though, Nancy adds that the Russian and Chinese troops have stopped advancing. Santos wants to know, "Then what?" After some silence, he's told, "That's up to the Russians and the Chinese," to which he replies, "I can't say I care very much for that answer." Nancy doesn't move a muscle, except to raise her eyebrows slightly at him. Santos asks what the Americans should do, other than wait for someone to start shooting, but in a much more long-winded way than that, at which Nancy's eyebrows threaten to pop off of her forehead. "I have a problem with that," states Santos. "I have a problem with this entire adventure, as I've already expressed to the President." C.J. gives him a slight nod of acknowledgement. Santos asks whether China and Russia are negotiating, and Nancy's answer that the U.S.'s moves are intended to drive them there means no, not yet. Santo is continuing to ask questions, until, clearly, the others are put out a bit at his seeming lack of faith in their abilities. Santos thanks everyone, gets up, and leaves.
As soon as the door closes, Nancy reports that the NSA heard Santos's phone call with the Russian president earlier. "We're tapping his phone?" C.J. asks, somewhat aghast. It's explained that they currently monitor all communications with both the Russian and Chinese governments, "as a matter of course." Apparently, Santos's call didn't contain anything "improper."
A door opens, and Josh walks in, with a thousand bags, to an incredibly messy apartment; dry cleaning hanging from a treadmill is an especially fine touch. Josh drops every bag simultaneously, and takes a deep breath -- but the breath says, "I'm overwhelmed," much more than "Ah, I'm home." Though I'd be stressed out just standing in there with so many piles of stuff all around, I don't think that's his problem. Josh literally collapses on the couch, and then there's a knock at the door. He slowly and painfully threads his way to the door, where Donna is standing. Josh mumbles, "When I said we needed to talk, I wasn't necessarily thinking about tonight. I'm kinda fried..." But Donna softly says, "Who said anything about talking?" And then she proceeds to maul him with her well-glossed lips, and the door is kicked shut.
Sometime later -- whether it's the morning or later that night -- Josh is back to his familiar hunched pose over his work at a desk in his apartment, wearing boxers and an undershirt. Donna comes out of another room, fastening her earrings. This is definitely a much more comfortable scene than the one we first witnessed. Josh appears to have a Red Bull on the desk, which I feel is never a good idea at any hour when it's dark out, unless, of course, it's paired with vodka. Donna greets him: "Morning. Almost." That answers that. He responds with an equally sweet question about their education plan. She lets him go on, and, when he pauses, asks how long he's been up. "Oh, you know," Josh rasps. Donna snaps at him, "I don't, actually. That's why I asked." Delivered in a normal-volume voice, her lack of humor at this is incredibly apparent. Josh mumbles something about a couple of hours, and then, as she keeps getting ready, he tells her somewhat shyly, "So, last night was...was nice." Donna smiles at him, as he awkwardly adds, "Really nice. On the nice scale, it was way up there, in terms of...niceness." Donna's smiling, because Josh is incredibly sleepy, but then she sits and orders, "Be still, and listen to me." After a moment, she starts: "I don't know what this is. And you don't either, which is perfectly fine and understandable. Whatever the buildup, it's all happened, amid absurdly heightened emotional circumstances -- the election, Leo's death. There's been no moment to so much as take a breath, much less figure any of this out." She continues in one long sentence about the transition, inauguration, etc. until she's illustrated the passing of the eight years, "...and we've never had The Talk. And you can lose that look of panic in your eyes; we're not going to have it now. We don't ever have to have it. But there's a window. I'd say four weeks. If we can't get it together in that time to figure out what we want from each other, then clearly, it's not worth the trouble." Josh alternates between looking scared and staring at Donna's lips, like he just wants to groggily kiss her. She tells him, "Last night was lovely," and that Josh should put on some coffee. Typed out, this reads harsher than it was delivered -- you can tell how much Donna cares for Josh, and that she is figuring herself out, too, but she just doesn't want to fall into a perpetual state of limbo. And as a girl who owns a sweet little condo in Relationship Limboland, I'm going to politely request to use this speech the time I start dating someone. I also think it just adds to the positive signs that these two crazy kids might just have a chance -- that Donna knows Josh well enough to tell when he would fall into that pattern, and that she wants more than that. She kisses him passionately, and leaves him dumbfounded. After she's left, he composes himself enough to call, "Bye!" after her.
In wherever the Santoses are staying, Santos is asking Helen what she thinks of the homes. She uses a lot of "incredible"s to describe them, and reports that she and Donna are seeing more today, sure to be "more incredible." Helen seems bewildered, though, and tells Santos, "The thing I find most incredible is this notion that this is what the American people want and expect of us." "What?" he asks. "To spend the two and a half months in some rich mucky-muck's loaner mansion, a place he can afford to make available because, evidently, he has some place just as, or even more, swell to decamp to while he bestows upon us this largesse." Again -- typed? Shrewish. Delivery? Much more bewildered-slash-overwhelmed. Santos tells Helen he'll "have [his] staff look into alternatives." "'Staff'?" she asks with a small shudder and embarrassed smile. "Or if you'd prefer, my minions," Santos adds. That's how I refer to my own minions, personally. Helen helps Santos to put on his jacket, commenting on how weird it will be. They have some banter as she mentions, "Donna 'ma'am'ed me," and tells him that he gets much cooler names. There's some Commander-in-Chief dirty talk, where she tells him she was thinking that they could have some quick "shock and awe." Santos replies, "After fifteen years, I'd be shocked if you were awed." I love when the two of them get along good-naturedly. He leaves, and she swats at his sweet, sweet derrière.
Ronna comes into the room, asking, "Did the Congressman find his glove?" Bram's there and tells her carefully, "Uh, no...but the President-Elect did." Ronna's miffed at herself for making the mistake again, and, as she's deep into self-flagellation, has the crap scared right out of her as Josh bursts through his office door. He coughs and sniffles, mentioning that he got in around 6 or 6:15. As Josh throws back a handful of Tums, he says that the travel threw him off an hour. Ronna guesses that this means he's usually in around 7; Josh corrects her that it's usually around 5. Otto is ordered to schedule a meeting with someone named Graden, and Otto actually begins to stare at the ceiling, not hiding the fact that he's trying to figure out who that is. Josh moves over, chewing like a cow, and snottily informs him, "This doesn't reflect well on your hopes for advancement." This triggers Otto's memory, and he spits out who Graden is, but you can tell that Josh doesn't care at all. Ronna and Bram watch him surreptitiously out of the corners of their eyes, with an air of embarrassment.
Josh and Santos walk into Santos's office, talking about Attorney General possibilities. Josh seems to know what Santos is talking about, but also manages to seem like he's not paying any attention, despite the correct responses coming out of his mouth. Santos asks him how the White House staffing is going, and Josh mumbles a bit. Man, he looks like shit. Josh asks Santos how the Kazakhstan situation is going. "It's a mess," Santos replies, somewhat angrily. "It's a mess. And they're depositing it on our doorstep." Josh just tells Santos that there's nothing they can do until he's in office. Ronna comes in to tell Josh that Donna is there. After Josh leaves, Santos asks Ronna to set up a call with Goodwin: "And then there's one other international call that I want to return. President Lian." Ronna is taken aback, and tells Santos that China's not one of the G8s. "I'm aware," he replies, with no humor in his voice at all. She tells him, "Right away, sir." He looks stern, and sighs.
C.J. is taking Josh on a tour of sorts, and tells him that they "put out a directive that White House personnel be as helpful as possible to the Santos team." Josh asks her lightly, "No desk drawers super-glued shut?" "That was an urban legend," she maintains. Josh is having none of it: "First day? I needed a crowbar." She assures him, "Well, none of that." She's smiling, and they both seem to enjoy seeing each other. Josh tells C.J. that the President-Elect wants to move into "Blair House," and she lets him know that Margaret will make the arrangements. C.J. tells Josh that most of this will be easy: "I mean, it's not like you don't know your way around this place." But she offers that any of his staff can come "hang out with their counterparts for a couple of hours."
C.J. keeps talking as she and Josh enter her office, while he looks around. She calls him out on mentally rearranging the furniture already. It's nice to see C.J. in her office during daylight hours, which I didn't consciously realize was unusual until I wondered what room they'd just walked into that looked so light and airy. They sit down and discuss tickets to the inauguration. Josh wants more, but C.J. finally agrees only to some, and so he tries to tell her that the "future trumps the past." She continues, going over all of the logistics, including my favorite plan: "Should one of the three-hundred-eighty-nine horses keel over, there'll be a team of veterinarians and a forklift standing by." "'Forklift'?" Josh asks. "Which should be a lovely sight for the children in the crowd." C.J. can deliver that line with just the right amount of delight. Josh adds, "We should have the Supreme Court in clown makeup in case we have to send them in." Best. Inauguration. Ever.
C.J. finishes up and stands, and Josh conversationally mentions his efforts to recruit Sam, which draws her comment that he's "getting the band back together." Josh adds, "Goes without saying. Any job you want." C.J. laughs, but Josh assures her that he's serious. He asks whether they should talk about it, but she brushes it off somewhat uncertainly: "I have no idea. No." She seems flustered, and honored, but somewhat sure of her negative answer. Josh promises to ask again. As he leaves, C.J. casually asks whether Santos has said anything about Kazakhstan, and Josh just reports Santos's reservations about it. She remarks, "I assume it goes without saying that the President expects the President-Elect to keep whatever reservations he has about this policy to himself during the transition?" She's smiling, but the steel behind her words is totally evident. "Goes without saying," Josh says, smiling, but they both seem a bit tenser than they were five seconds earlier.
Donna's on the phone not speculating about the Vice-Presidency, charming but firm. Her phone chirps, and she ends the call with "If you'll excuse me, I have someone else to equally exasperate on the other line." I'd guess that the new caller is Santos, based on her "Yes sir, of course."
Donna gets up and heads to Santos's office. He has called Donna in to ask whether Josh seems okay to her, and I swear he knows something's up. Donna is taken aback a second, but recovers nicely, joking about Josh's recent zombie look. Santos wants him to relax, and asks, genuinely concerned, "Is he seeing anybody? Is he having any...fun?" Her poker face could use some work: she's sporting a deer-in-the-headlights look: "Sir?" Santos apologizes for the question, and she assures him that everything will be okay. He finishes up by adding, "Don't tell him I asked," and you can tell how genuinely concerned he is for someone who means a lot to him. Add it to the warm and fuzzy count this hour.
C.J. and Nancy enter the Oval, and get a nifty factoid about the number of diplomats in Germany and India. (The same, if you're wondering, though the populations are so disparate.) Nancy reports that they monitored Santos's call with the Chinese President, and C.J. says that this is going to be unpleasant news.
Josh pops some Alka-Seltzer, and chugs it so fast that my stomach starts to hurt watching him. He then puts in some eye drops, and then chugs some Mylanta from the bottle. Yum. After all of the self-medicating, he sits down to interview some poor sap by talking the guy's ear off while playing on his Blackberry. The poor kid can't even get a word in edgewise as Otto comes in. Also not able to break through Josh's monologue, Otto tries to spell "C" "J" with his hands, but gets the "J" backwards, which I kind of love. Not understanding, Josh finally slows down so that Otto can tell him C.J. is on the phone. Josh thanks the poor sap (Howard), and he leaves, looking befuddled. Otto comments, "You let them talk too, right?" Josh, however, has lost all perspective on teasing and says, "Sassing your potential benefactor -- that's an unconventional advancement technique." Sassing your potential employees -- that engenders a great working environment. Even after the verbal dressing-down, Otto pops a Red Bull and hands it to Josh -- clearly something he's used to doing -- and Josh shoots down the entire can. When he picks up the phone, a livid C.J. demands that he come right back over and isn't going to take any excuses. On the way out, Josh passes Lou waiting outside, who assures him, "I'm okay to hang."
Helen answers a knock at her door, and is once again "ma'am"ed by Donna. Doesn't that look like "maimed"? That would suddenly be a very different show -- something like, C.S.I.: 1600. Helen is still uncomfortable with the "ma'am"ing, but Donna gently jokes, "Due respect, you may have to get used to it." Helen pours tea, and mentions that she needs a Chief of Staff, though she doesn't know why. Donna begins to explain that it would all depend on "the kind of First Lady [she intends] to be." Donna continues to explain the options to Helen, but does so by iterating the two opposite ends of the First Lady spectrum, causing Helen's face to pinch a little in worry. Helen tells her that she'd like Donna's help in figuring out what way she'll go, and after Donna misunderstands, Helen explains, "I actually want you to help do it." The two of them muddle through the conversation, and eventually hit the point: Helen would like Donna to be her Chief of Staff. Donna seems flustered, but incredibly flattered and delighted. They're both really cute in a little-girl, excited kind of way. Donna's not sure she has the experience, but Helen has enjoyed working with her, and also what Matt has to say about her: "He's going to be P.O.ed, in fact, that I'm stealing you, just to sweeten the deal." Donna smiles, and Helen tells her to consider it: "Just wanted to stake my claim, I guess." Donna tells her, 100% heartfelt, "Thank you for considering me."
C.J. opens the door and wastes no time in laying into Josh, all of the goodwill from earlier evaporated: "Did we or did we not have a discussion only hours ago about how you people were going to comport yourselves regarding the international security situation in Kazakhstan?" Josh is completely blindsided, and for once seems legitimately out of it instead of just dazed in his own fog. C.J. tells him about the NSA's traced call, and that Santos told the Chinese President that he has "significant qualms about this intervention." Josh is having a hard time discussing the content, since first he needs to absorb that the call was tapped. Josh calls C.J. out on her own statements about wanting an easy transition: "Wiretapping is an odd way of showing the love." But C.J. isn't going to take any crap from Josh, and informs him that the monitoring is standard right now to both Russia and China. She lays down the law: "You need to talk to the Congressman about mixed messages. Or the President will." Josh has gotten his wits back enough to fire back, "It's not 'Congressman.' It's 'President-Elect.'" Unimpressed, C.J. cuts him off: "Fine. Have him start behaving like it." I knew the collective warm and fuzzy couldn't hold through every scene this hour.
Back in California, Sam accepts a call from Josh by saying, "Twenty-four whole hours. Way to give me some space." Josh seems to be walking in a circle around the outside gates of the White House, and I love that, in the background, I can see people on the street staring at the filming for a few seconds, until they are clearly told they need to keep walking and looking natural. Josh tells Sam, "These days are like dog hours. A day is like one of your human weeks." "It's quite a selling point," Sam replies. Really, between the putdowns and the crazy, you're really making everyone happy about the prospect of working for you, Josh. Irresistible. Sam puts him on speaker just so that we can admire his corner office as he talks. Josh works to sell Sam on his attorney fiancée finding work in D.C. Sam points out (wrongly, as I learned from the forums) that she'd have to take the bar again, and asks, "Would you?" Fulfilling the wishes of every Sam/Josh devotee out there, Josh quips, "Well, I assume there's a number of things that she can do for you that I would balk at." After a moment, Sam grudgingly admits, "She doesn't hate the idea." Taking every tiny opening he can, Josh tells Sam that he'll see him the day. Sam protests, but Josh just pleads for him to do his thinking on a plane. Josh then unattractively turns to outright begging, and Sam calls him on it. Josh merely tells him, "I told you: I have no threshold of embarrassment here. I'm prepared to abase myself until you submit." Wow, with that line we might have wandered into a completely different kind of show. He wheedles, "She passed the bar once, right?" With that, Sam ends the call.
Josh comes into the transition office with a pen hanging from his mouth, and puts Lou off again in order to speak to Santos. Josh is holding his notepads like schoolbooks, and I actually miss the backpack, since that would give him quite a great overall look right now.
Once in Santos's office, Josh closes the door and asks about the Chinese call, but then immediately launches into his real question: "Why aren't you and I discussing it first?" Josh asks delicately, and with the necessary respect, but he's radiating his upset all over his body. Santos is unperturbed and kicking back -- literally -- in his chair, and doesn't even look up from his book. Eventaully, he does bookmark it to once again repeat his qualms about the U.S. military action, go on about his own views, blah blah blah sitting duck-cakes. Josh quietly, pleadingly, asks whether Santos actually said this to Lian. Santos just tells Josh that he made his concerns clear: "What I wanted to say was that in addition to this making no tactical military sense, it is a complete strategic blunder geopolitically." Santos continues, but Josh just repeats, "We're stuck with this." He must have been actually trying to pull his hair out off-camera, because it's standing on end now in a way it wasn't when he first walked through the door. Santos merely tells him, "It's a high-stakes game of chicken designed to bring both parties to the table, and it hasn't done it." Santos doesn't want Josh to tell him once again that he needs to wait until he is in office, and goes off about the mess he'll be inheriting: "It's going to be my problem." "Our problem, sir," Josh corrects. Wrong answer. "No," Santos says, "Mine. I'm going to be the guy in the history books whose presidency never got off the ground because he inherited his predecessor's eleventh-hour misadventure in Central Asia." I'm surprised -- this statement seems out of character with how Santos has been portrayed thus far, wanting to do the right thing for the people. ["On the other hand, he is a former Congressman; it scans that he might not take to foreign policy straight out of the gate." -- Wing Chun] Josh starts to panic, and feebly repeats that, for now, they have to support Bartlet. Belatedly, Santos asks the million-dollar question about how they know what he said. Josh reports, "The NSA is eavesdropping on all calls to Russia or China." Santos throws his bookmark back in the book -- and I'm not making that up; he somehow does it with a power I never knew possible when one is just marking one's place -- and demands a meeting with the President.
Josh comes out of Santos's office, even more riled up than when he went in, if that's possible. He commands Otto to set up the meeting between Santos and Bartlet, and calls Lou in to see him, all with the pen back in his mouth. Lou asks how he is, and gets a bland "You know." She's not having it, and tells him in a bored voice, "You love it, you live for it, you were born to do it. I'm the same way. Everybody tells me to get a life, although I don't know why. I find life to be terribly overrated. It's actually quite boring when it's not disappointing. Say what you will about what we do, but boring it is not." Part of me wants to say that someone is protesting a wee bit too much, but on the other hand? I can kind of believe that this is what she lives for. Josh points out how much more money Lou will make now that her guy won, and we can all see where this is leading when he tells her that nothing else will compare. Lou's fine with that, since she'll be raking in the bucks, but Josh tells her she doesn't care about money. "Not as such," she clarifies. "As what?" asks Josh. Lou's clearly thought this out, and tells him, "Scorekeeping. Quantitative evidence that I'm smarter than you." There's a slight pause. "Not you..." she amends. "Who?" he asks. "Everybody else," she offers. Hmm, not a bad little theory, there. Josh, convinced that she'd like this life even more if she thought about it, offers her Communications Director, but Lou declines. Josh goes into frantic selling mode, trying to convince her actually to do good, rather than just promising to do good on any given campaign. Josh plays on the fact that this job would also not be boring for her, and finally promises that she won't have a life, which actually is a little bit sweet, in a very twisted way. A bit wistfully, Lou says, "That's true. Look at you..." Josh finally has the wherewithal to look a bit insulted. Or maybe it's just that he realizes that between everyone's perception of his non-life and Donna's ultimatum, he might want to get on the ball. Lou goes on about work, but Josh finally seems to be thinking about other things that might matter, too, and doesn't seem to hear her.
Sam enters Josh's office, while he's...oh Lord, trimming his neck hair with an electric shaver, as he reads a document. Josh, you're a guy. Take the ten minutes to have an actual other person give you a haircut, for the love. Sam looks completely horrified, as he should. Josh hasn't seen him, and Sam says, "I may have forgotten about the hours." Josh, for all of his bravado, is stunned: "You're here." He runs over, and hands Sam a large pile of crap off a chair that I initially thought was so that Sam would have a place to sit down. I'll soon be corrected. What with all the grace Josh is exuding in shoving all this at his friend, Sam dryly comments, "Stop, your sentimentality is embarrassing us both." After a pause, Sam asks, "When is the last time you took a vacation?" Josh appears not to know the word. Sam goes on to helpfully explain, "Time off from labor? Thought to be restorative? Salubrious for body and soul?" Seeing Josh to Sam only accentuates how well groomed the latter is and how the former...well, I'm glad I don't have Smell-o-Vision; that's how bad and rumpled Josh looks. Josh tells Sam that he doesn't remember when he last took a vacation, and Sam replies, "Okay, if I'm your boss that's really the wrong answer." He goes on to talk about people's...political...brains -- he's blowing mine, as it goes mostly over my head -- but the bottom line is that people like "them" need occasional time off. Josh is oh-so-politely barely listening, instead focusing on his Blackberry and then on a phone call, but Sam forges ahead, and tries to convince Josh that he could find a week to take off. Here's where I'm corrected about all of the stuff Josh handed to Sam: it turns out to be Sam's schedule, and Josh rushes through an explanation about Sam's meetings. Sam: "I haven't officially said yes." Josh barely hears him to agree, and then introduces him to the room, where the staffers applaud the new Deputy Chief of Staff. (Maybe.)
Donna meets up with Josh, and comments, "You look terrible." It's been beaten into the ground, but it's never been truer. She goes on to tell him about the First Lady's Chief of Staff offer, looking completely pleased. It takes a second, but once the words reach his brain, Josh actually stops and turns to congratulate her. She has the most glowing genuine grin on her face: "I'm to think it over." Josh takes the happy moment to give her another job offer -- Deputy Press Secretary, under Lou's Communications Director. It's worthwhile to note that I have no idea if Lou really accepted or if this is another Sam-type thing. Donna immediately gets serious and nips the idea in the bud: "One thing I know for sure is I can't work for you. If something's happening with us personally, it won't work, and if something isn't...well, it won't work so good either." "Well," Donna. "Well." Thank God you're not going to be in Communications since your basic grammar is mixed up. Not happy just to make one suggestion at the exact wrong time, Josh sputters, "About that..." and tells her that he can't follow her time frame. Donna only chirps, "Three weeks, six days to go. We'll see." She stares after him, looking like she clearly knows he'll work it out. She's pretty AND smart.
Back in his office, Josh seems to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown, searching his desk, increasingly agitated with each second. He yells for Otto, who tells him, "There's an intercom." Not amused, Josh snarls, "Yeah, if I wanted to use the intercom I'd use the intercom." My heart goes out to Otto for not having any idea how to act in the new environment: with Josh increasingly frantic, it's as if all the rules have changed and no one told him. Josh tells Otto that he's looking for his Blackberry, and Otto -- glad to have the right answer for once -- tells Josh that Otto has it. Unfortunately, it turns out to not be the right answer at all, when Josh goes completely ballistic, screaming at him. When Otto points out that Josh gave it to him ten minutes ago, that only serves to feed the fire. Josh actually yells at him not to use initiative, and when Otto counters that he's aiming above "assistant," Josh goes even more insane about him needing to do his job right, etc., and not leaving him stranded for ten minutes. Yes, this whole thing is about ten minutes. Welcome to why I have a personal PDA vendetta these days. You can walk five feet without email, people! Try it! You might like being unreachable every once in a while! By now, the whole office is listening. Josh finishes screaming like a lunatic, and sends Otto for the Blackberry. Sam has walked in to witness the end of the meltdown and is actually staring, open-mouthed. Otto looks like he might cry, and Sam stops Otto and tells him, "I got it," and gently takes the device. I want to hug Otto -- I'm cringing just watching this scene.
When Sam shows his Blackberry to him, Josh screams, wondering whether Otto is scared to face him. Sam hushes him, and also won't actually give it back. Josh glares and taps his foot, causing his whole body to shake. He looks very much like a three-year-old having a temper tantrum. Sam closes the door: "I didn't come here because you're such a silver-tongued recruiter or because I got tired of summer in January." He goes on to say that Santos might end up being The Man, but only with Josh's help navigating through the political BS, and if it turns out great, then Sam wants to be a part of it. But Sam points out that the job will be hard, and that Josh needs to be at his best, not a million miles from it like he is now. He gives Josh his second ultimatum of the week: Josh must take a vacation, or Sam's out the door. "One of us is getting on a plane tonight," says Sam. "If it's you, you're back in a week. If it's me, I'm gone, adios, for good." Sam smacks the Blackberry down: "Your call." With that, he leaves the office.
Santos is waiting for Bartlet, and Debbie's got the flirt turned up to 11. She charmingly comments on his height, and asks whether he played college sports: "My sister thinks that you're very attractive." Bartlet walks in, actually throws a file onto her desk, and tells Santos, "She doesn't have a sister," before wishing him a good morning and ushering him into the Oval Office. Debbie just gazes after Santos, a great twinkle in her eye.
Bartlet asks Santos about the call to the Chinese President, and how it went. Santos merely tells Bartlet that he could read the transcript, and Bartlet apologizes for that, but tells Santos that he really needs to know what happened in the conversation: "I haven't seen the transcript, I didn't want to seem...overly interested." Santos tells him, "I portrayed myself as being impatient with our intervention, mystified as to the endgame. I might have referred to you as an incrementalist." Bartlet shakes it off: "I've been called worse." They smile at each other. This is definitely not a conversation of two men who are trying to undermine each other, that's for sure.
After they sit, Santos tells Bartlet, "It wasn't a bad idea, sir; to exploit the inherent awkwardness of transition this way." After explaining the game, Bartlet exposits, "Use it to play a little political good cop/bad cop. But you know you're going to have to make some really loud saber-rattling if we're going to pull this off." Santos explains how he'll handle a call with the Canadian Prime Minister: "[I'll] make it clear that while I wouldn't have necessarily gone in, once the troops are there, I have no intention of just keeping them in place open-ended, waiting to get shot at. If they're deployed, I'm gonna give them something to do -- like roll people back across their own borders. I'll suggest that the Russians and the Chinese are going to look back on the Bartlet plan as the good old days -- which you might want to find a way to artfully communicate to them both." Bartlet has a smile behind his eyes: "Sounds good. You make that case with seeming conviction...Let's hope we can scare the hell out of them." I'm going to start calling them Ballsy and Ballsy-Elect.
Santos comes back to his office, where Josh and Sam are waiting. Josh introduces Sam, and tells Santos, "He'll be covering for me the week." Santos is understandably confused. Josh exclaims that everyone is doing their respective jobs: "Lou will be honing our message plan." I guess this means that she's really on board, not temp-to-hire like Sam. Josh admits, suitably humble, "Um, I yelled at Otto for no reason, I haven't had a vacation in...well, ever, and I will be better able to serve you and your Presidency, not to mention the country, if I unfog my head. Sam's...getting married." And I like fuzzy kittens. Oh, I'm sorry, I just felt like I needed to throw in my own non sequitur, too. Ever the gentleman, Santos offers congratulations. Josh adds, "Lou's right! I have no life. And I don't know if that's really how I want it or if it's just some borderline or maybe not-so-borderline pathological avoidance thing. If it's...you know. Okay with you." Santos is as pleased as he's been since he wanted to shock and awe his wife: "If it didn't involve a motorcade I'd drive you to the airport myself." Sam smiles. Josh folds his hands, thanks Santos, and leaves. Left awkwardly alone, Santos and Sam stare at each other. Sam: "Big fan." You're always safe with a gratuitous compliment, I say.
Josh gets onto a plane with his backpack, sits, and leans back with a sigh. After a moment, Donna slides in to him: "May I just say, a truly excellent notion." "Sam's," Josh concedes. She smiles, "Of course." Josh does a quick awkward clarification: "The vacation. Going-with-you part was all me." They kiss.
At the office, Josh's Blackberry rings and vibrates itself right off the table to an audience of eye drop bottles and Tums.