C.J. scurries into her office, kissing the results, followed by Carol, who chirps, "Congratulations, boss!" C.J. replies, "Nice job! Take the rest of the night off." Carol: "Yeah. It's one in the morning." C.J.: "Well, you've earned it." Sam comes in at that point, and C.J. says, "Sam, Sam, the Sunshine Man." If he didn't already have more official nicknames than anyone else on the show, I think that would clinch it. C.J. says, "Get on the couch. I'm going to do you right now." Sam, always amenable: "Okay." C.J.: "Sorry, I was still talking to Carol." Hee. Sam, affectionately: "What is wrong with you?" C.J., giggling: "We really don't know." C.J. sobers up and says that Lisa mentioned things weren't going that well, and she's concerned because he still has a couple of weeks with her. That sounds like fun. Sam says he wishes they hadn't started tonight. C.J.'s taken aback: "Why? It was a shining moment." Sam allows, "It got the job done. But it's ironic that a thing, a sort of thing between us, is that I'm supposed to know the difference between flash and substance." She reminds him, "Sometimes a little flash is what's required. You said that to me." Sam claims he says that when he doesn't have anything to say. C.J. argues, "It wasn't a Vegas act. It was stirring. And I wouldn't hang your head when you say 'it got the job done.' That job was impossible and it had to be done and there aren't ten guys in the country who could write that speech." Sam, refusing to be cheered: "I'll bet the Cancer Committee can't wait to buy me a beer." C.J. puts her hand softly on Sam's chest, over his tie. He shrugs off her concern: "Hey, I'm just...you know. Anyway. Congratulations...." And then he kind of whispers conspiratorially, "And if you're serious about that thing with Carol, I can just sit in the corner and not even say...." C.J. giggles and says, "Get out!" He leaves, and C.J. takes a sip of her drink. Good luck finding any room in that corner, buddy. I suspect you'd have to break some heads to get a seat. Good job on this whole scene. The dialogue felt very authentic and natural.
Sam finds Lisa and apologizes, saying he was just getting some numbers. She asks if he can tell her what they were. He says they're internal, and that CNN and USA Today will have something shortly. Sam indifferently indicates his office to her. Lisa suddenly announces that she's going to give her notes to someone else and let him or her finish reporting this story: "You're obviously not comfortable with this." Sam points out that the numbers are internal. Lisa cuts him off, saying, "Yeah, whatever. I'm going to give my notes to someone else." Sam just looks at her as if he can't decide what to say. He knows he doesn't want to talk her out of it. He says nothing, and then turns, walks into his office, and says, "Anyway, this is my office." Lisa says it's nice. Sam tells her about C.J. asking if the reason they didn't get married is because her name would Sherbourne-Seaborn. Oy. Lisa, sarcastically: "That's exactly why we didn't get married." She picks up a picture frame from one of Sam's shelves to examine the photo. Sam: "Why didn't we get married?" Um, isn't that something you'd have discussed at the time of calling the whole thing off? I'm just sayin'. In addition to being bummed over the long term about the trajectory of the administration for which he works, he seems pretty sad about the fact that this relationship didn't work out, despite the fact that he has no apparent warm (or cold) feelings for her at all. Very odd. Lisa asks, "Why do you think?" He responds, "'Cause I don't know what the cool restaurant is and I don't care." I hope there was more to it than that. "When I get hungry, I want to eat. And I don't know where the Tommy Hilfiger party is and I don't know what to do when I get there." She says he's full of crap. He claims, "I was never cool enough for you." She responds, "You're full of crap and you think too little of me, and I didn't leave you. You left me. And you did it to do this. And the reason you're pissy is because I'm here looking at you and writing about you and you're wondering if I'm going to think you've been doing anything at all." She might have something there. Sam states, "Often it's not clear to me whether or not I have." I can see how he'd be wondering that. She insists, "You have." Sam retorts, "How would you know?" She replies, "The bouncer at Moomba told me." Actually, she says she doesn't know.