We're in the woods, and someone with very well-toned arms is running down a trail. It's Will! The arms are pale, but well-toned. Wow, who would have thunk it. His phone rings. It's C.J., asking if they had s'mores and strategic planning the night before. He calls it "missiles and marshmallows." That sounds like a game we used to play in the Boy Scouts. But I don't think we can talk about that here. She's calling to let him know that the Palestinians are wheels-up. Just then, another helicopter buzzes over Will's head. I'd yell "duck," but I wouldn't be too sad if he bites it.
C.J. and Carol are walking into C.J.'s office. Carol asks C.J. if they had the s'mores yet. C.J.: "That's a great way to stop the summit before it starts -- feed them food the consistency of industrial sealant." I once had a boyfriend with a marshmallow phobia. You could not even bring them into the house. I still feel a little bit guilty when I enjoy some Ben & Jerry's Phish Food. Carol tells C.J. that Leo is looking for her -- C.J. tells Carol to try to get hold of him at Camp David, and Carol tells her he's actually in his office. It's hard for me to believe that C.J. would not know the general location of the Chief of Staff of the White House.
C.J. enters Leo's office, telling him that she thought he went up yesterday with the President. He tells her he doesn't want any press at Camp David. C.J.: "We're not going to the Cozy Inn?" According to the Googling monkeys in the forums, that's the actual name of the place where the press is traditionally lodged during events at Camp David. There won't even be any pool coverage of the summit. The idea is to prevent either side from negotiating in the press. Margaret enters to tell Leo that he's needed elsewhere, and he tells C.J. that there will be an announcement in a couple of hours.
Camp David grounds. Will goes running by Kate, who asks him how far he ran. Only five miles, he says. She offers to buy him a carton of Luckys so he can stay in bed next time. She knocks on the door of a cabin and Toby answers, looking pretty scruffy. Kate: "So much for permanent press." She tells him that the prep group is about to start up.
Swimming pool. Jed is swimming laps. The man does not breathe very often. Charlie interrupts him to tell him, "They're on their way."
Debbie is in the conference room, measuring the distance between the edge of the table and the top of the folder placed before each seat. I'd make some kind of joke about the hard twelve-inch long rod she's holding in her hand, but I'm afraid the queer gods would strike me down if I made that kind of joke about Lily Tomlin. Debbie finds one folder that is a full inch too low and gives her assistant the glare of death over the top of her glasses. The assistant scurries over to adjust the folder.