Kerry turns to leave. "Yes, you won't want to be late for that meeting," Bright says. "Congratulations, Kerry." Based on his line delivery, he knew full well Anspaugh would be rewarding her with a promotion. Creepy how much he fancies himself a puppeteer. I hate the alderman. He's so smarmy.
Like a zombie, Weaver enters a conference room, where Romano and Anspaugh are deep in discussion. Romano is arguing that he has never let his rehab interfere with his work schedule; Anspaugh merely says that administrative duties are not Romano's strong suit. "Can I come back later?" Weaver pleads emotionally. Anspaugh tells her to sit down. "How long have you been planning this?" Romano spits, ostensibly to Anspaugh, who fills Kerry in: he's making her a joint Chief of Staff. "I'd rather cut off my good arm," Romano snarks. Anspaugh doesn't care. "It's a gift, Robert. I suggest that you take it," he warns. "Take it right up the ass," Romano snaps. And somehow, magically, against all social logic, this seems to be the wrong thing to say. Imagine that. Anspaugh nods curtly and awards Kerry the job in full, then leaves in a huff after darting one last disapproving and disappointed look at Robert. He doesn't offer any other explanation for yanking Romano's title; it's possible it's a combination of them feeling he's slipping, and Kerry's political successes. Kerry gapes emptily, meets Romano's toes for a second, and then stares off into space, well aware that the administration she's being asked to run is the thing she just fatally violated. We fade to black thinking that Laura Innes should get the hell off this show and onto one whose star is rising, not fading.
Elizabeth fixes up the cut on Romano's arm. He's bitter. She's tolerating it. Pretty standard stuff. "What's next? I could cut it while slicing a bagel and not realize it until I pass out from blood loss," he grumbles. "Or, maybe I could set the damn thing on fire." Easy, Rocket. Wait for May sweeps. Elizabeth tsks that he needs to be patient. "Yes, so everyone keeps telling me," he sighs. "Although none of us actually believe I'm even going to partially recover, do we." Elizabeth meets his toes but says nothing. "Do you believe in the laws of karma, Elizabeth?" he asks. "So I can be a jerk. So what? I've always been honest. Brutally honest. Bruised some egos, hurt some feelings, maybe provoked a few tears, but you know, honesty's a hell of a lot more than most people can claim." He pauses, staring at her sadly. "I don't deserve this," he says. This sucks. They made him stupid so they could lop off his arm, and then they turned the story into a tale of office politics, of all things. How terribly boring. Why is it that every story on this show feels like it's been sliced and diced?