Los Angeles, 4:12 AM PST. A sexy girl is let into a room by...Bruno, who leads the way with his pot belly. I've honestly never thought one way or the other about his weight, but this sweater is just screaming, "Look at the giant meal I just ate!" I believe the girl just might be taller than he is. He's showing her the office, they flirt, and start sexily making out -- well, as sexily as Bruno really can be, which I have to say is just more gross than anything. He hears a ring and comments that he should check the fax, and Jane replies, "I already did," and walks right into their little moment. Bruno introduces the ladies and naturally doesn't know Carrie's last name. They have their own version of the conversation about Vinick's speech, and then talk about this schedule until they lapse into awkward silence; Carrie seems to be the only normal perceptive person who senses the tension and asks for the bathroom. Jane points the way, and Carrie heads out, to the sound of her slapping sandals. It's actually distracting. For a weird moment, I wondered if this was going the way of Bruno/Jane sexual tension, but thankfully it's never picked up again, so I think it's just awkward pre-election/we hate each other stress. She comments, "Cute." "Yeah." "Little young," she adds. "Yale grad," he replies. She gives him a glance, and he amends, "Almost grad." Oh, just...ew. Carrie, go for someone with better hair, at least! Bruno asks Jane if she couldn't sleep, and she confirms that and then sighs: "God, I hate the wait."
Houston 6:36 AM CST. At the airport, Mr. And Mrs. Santos deplane. She's rocking a white coat and scarf -- although with white gloves, about which I'm not as sure. He's completely at a loss of what to do now that there's no staff ordering him around. She tells him that his only plans are vote and home, and that he's already delivered his last stump, with a tone of giant relief in her voice. She pats his arm. They're on a roll this morning -- shockingly, they also aren't late for anything right now.
6:50 AM CST. Josh gets out of the elevator and runs into Donna coming out of her own hotel room; he notes that she changed and looks nice. She thanks him, and it's still All Awkward, All The Time. After another try at small talk, she conspiratorially leans in and mentions that she doesn't want to be in the same clothes she had on the night before. I happened to pause the show right here for a fantastic embarrassed yet delighted smile on Donna's face. Unfortunately, while she's smiling, Josh is completely nervous and unable to react. He launches back into work talk and then goes right into "You don't have to worry; a lot of people are going to be doing the walk of shame today. Not that what we did was shameful. Or is shameful; that's not what I meant." Fortunately, their entrance into the war room mercifully cuts this conversation short. And Josh, a walk of shame is back to your car and your own home, not walking back into work in the same clothes. Not that there's anything wrong with that either, but if you're going to use the term correctly, you should know. I did a walk of shame once at a rodeo. Well -- at the fairground the morning after the rodeo. I know my walks of shame, I assure you, and just am looking out for your usage.