Or are we? The transition from cement and standing water to the rolling hills and verdant whatevers of Minnesota is a bit of a shock. You expect to see Alicia standing there with a bluebird on her shoulder, whistling a jaunty tune. She has no idea what she is in for.
Will: "He just for sure kicked it upstairs to your guy, so good luck. Maybe we'll get lucky and lie about never seeing this letter."
Alicia: "It's really quiet here. It's nice."
Louis: "Or is it!?"
Alicia: "Aw, Jesus. You're everywhere. I hate that about you. There is so much that I hate about the person you choose you be. Your ubiquity is merely one thing on a long list."
Louis: "How's your bankruptcy?"
Alicia: "How's your tardive dyskinesia, you shitty little dwarf?"
They proceed into the Business Center, which even has a fax machine.
Louis: "Just to exposit, remember that you have three hours with Mr. Wilkes Ingersol, my client. He is very busy and needs to get back to his ranch."
Alicia: "Oh, for his vacation? Choppin' wood, milkin' cows? Flying a helicopter over the victims of Katrina, perhaps?"
Louis: "It is none of your business what he does. You got three."
Alicia: "Okay but for real three. Not counting breaks and the dicking around you are always doing. We have a judge on call for any objections, and I want to remind you that she will not have a lot of patience for your usual mess."
Louis: "Fine. Hey, are you getting a signal on your phone?"
Alicia: "Yeah. If I stand on my bed and put my arms over my head. You gotta have some pretty crappy tech infrastructure for Alicia Florrick to bitch about it."
Wilkes Ingersol arrives, with a bunch of yes-men and ass-kissers in tow. Whenever he says anything, they laugh uproariously. Anybody else it would reflect poorly on him, but because you immediately get a positive read on the guy -- corrupt, but with heart -- it mostly just makes them (Canning included) look hysterical and creepy.