Lisa lets herself into her apartment, which appears to be in the most Georgetown-looking building in all of Southern California. No sooner has she entered than -- AAAH! Someone grabs her from behind, clapping a hand over her mouth. Oh, no! What will become of Lisa? Actually, this is just a bullshit scare, because it's only Lisa's boyfriend. Who is, I should clarify, most assuredly not the Veep. She smiles and kisses him. She seems pretty relaxed for someone who's cheating on the Acting President of the United States. Maybe she forgot? No, that's not it; she tells her boyfriend that "Noah" is going to be Acting President for quite a while. Amidst all of this steamy talking while out-making, the boyfriend throws Lisa's purse across the room to land on the sofa. She's going on about the Veep's "lunatic foreign agenda," which, you'll recall, is the same "lunatic foreign agenda" she offered to commit perjury to support, but apparently it's just so she can be in charge of spending legislation. The boyfriend doesn't seem to think this is as sexy as Lisa does. He picks her up and hauls her into the bedroom so that he can throw her down on the bed and whip open her shirt to reveal her bra. "Yep, they're still there," her expression says, and they continue to mack. She doesn't think to wonder what he's doing awake and in her place at 4 in the morning?
Back in the White House, we get a nice, long, tight shot of the splash screen for a telecommunications product called Cisco TelePresence. The logo fades into the face of President Suvarov, scowling out of the screen from under his giant forehead. And, hell, as long as this scene is going to be one long commercial for TelePresence anyway, I might as well describe what it looks like. Because as much as it pisses me off to have to admit it, it actually looks kind of cool. The Veep is sitting on one side of a semicircular conference table, flanked by Karen and Tom. Directly across from them, almost the entire far wall is taken up by three large video screens on which appear President Suvarov, flanked by some very serious-looking Russians, some of whom are in dress uniform. And they appear in actual size, creating a fairly convincing illusion that they're all in the same room together. Hence the marketing-friendly oxymoron "TelePresence." Okay, Cisco, now where's my check, you fuckers? I know you wouldn't want me to point out that the complete lack of any satellite-related time lag in the ensuing conversation indicates to me that Suvarov and his sidekicks are probably playing their part of the scene in an adjoining room, if in fact not behind cheap scrims that only make it look as if they're on video.