West Wing
Bad Moon Rising

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Bring It On

Another staffer -- whose name, I believe, is Zach -- is sitting in C.J.'s hot seat. He's telling her that she shouldn't feel bad about her inquisition (although he doesn't use the word "inquisition"). She complains that everybody hates her. He says they'll get over it, and that she's just doing her job. He adds that this is really important. C.J. points out that he's the first one who's understood that. Zach asks, "You mind if I give you a suggestion that may make this go faster?" C.J.'s all ears. Zach: "If you dunk the suspect in a deep well of water, and they drown, it means they're not a witch." C.J.'s had it. She gets up and storms out, saying, "All right, that's it!" As she leaves, Zach spreads his arms and says, all Salem-yokel-circa-1692-like, "I saw Lizzie Proctor speaking with the devil!" C.J. calls out, as she hustles away, "Shut up!"

Sam's in Toby's office, citing chapter and verse on the environmental havoc the tanker spill is wreaking. Toby's not really paying attention, which quickly becomes clear to Sam. Just then, C.J. shows up and asks if he would mind if she spoke with Toby. Sam leaves. C.J. comes in and closes the door. She says, "It's me, okay? I am Spartacus." Toby says, "Look..." C.J. interrupts, "It was a leak. Leaks happen. They've happened since the beginning of time. In this White House, in every White House. There's no malicious intent. Things get out. It's a company town. Everybody talks to everybody, and junior staffers try to impress reporters by showing they're in the know. There is no group of people this large in the world that can keep a secret. I find it comforting. It's how I know for sure the government isn't covering up aliens in New Mexico! Toby, I've issued a blanket email to eleven hundred staffers about the incident, I've asked the President to let me make a clarification for tomorrow morning, I've seen to it it'll be on page one. We're not going to lose an inch of ground in the negotiation." Toby listens wearily, and agrees, "No, we're not." C.J. repeats, "No, we're not. And you knew that since this morning." He admits this. She wants to know what this is all about, then. Toby says, "This is small potatoes. I want to know, when the big potatoes come, are we up for it?" C.J. asks, "'Big potatoes'? Toby, we ran for election. We lived through Leo and booze, Sam and prostitutes, India and Pakistan, Colombia and a failed rescue mission...are there bigger potatoes someplace?" And don't forget that little attempt on your lives in Rosslyn. There's one really big potato to look out for, C.J. (Or maybe that should be "potatoe." Nah. Quayle, thank God, is nowhere near this White House.) Toby unconvincingly says "no". C.J. sharply says, "Toby?" She pauses. "Why are you lying to me?" He says he's not, but he's a terrible liar. He fidgets a bit, and thanks her for investigating today. She can see she won't get anywhere, so she leaves in a tiny bit of a huff.

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West Wing

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