Just then, Judiciary Lisa shows up and stands in the doorway of Josh's office. She says she needs two minutes with Josh, and after familiarizing herself with Swimtern, she follows Josh out. She wants to know, unsurprisingly, when she'll see a List. Josh protests about maybe letting the body get cold first, and she starts disgustedly rattling off a list of people she knows Josh has been meeting with, including Lang, who she thinks represents someone's obvious "acid trip." She tries to reason with Josh: "The committee's not going to let the balance of the court hurtle wildly to the left, and fill Brady's seat --" Josh points out, quite rightly, that it's not exactly "Brady's" seat, in the sense that his name is on it nor was it created for him. "Girelli has a fondness for Vicodin, and Evelyn Lang is not an option," Judiciary Lisa says firmly. "Save us all some time." Josh insists that they're certainly "not going to nominate a born-again elk hunter with a tattoo of the Confederate flag on his ass." Hey, I think I know that guy. She rattles off a couple of acceptable names, including one Brad Shelton, and promises that if the administration were to attempt to confirm Lang or one of the other hard lefties, the next year would be "a living hell." She looks at him curiously and adds, "I tell you this as a person who would be your friend, if I looked for different things in friends." "We should do this more often," Josh growls, turning up the Flirt-O-Matic to its little-used "Mondo" setting. "As often as it takes," says an unaffected Judiciary Lisa before wandering off. Apparently, Josh's mojo is getting creaky.