As soon as the door closes, Nancy reports that the NSA heard Santos's phone call with the Russian president earlier. "We're tapping his phone?" C.J. asks, somewhat aghast. It's explained that they currently monitor all communications with both the Russian and Chinese governments, "as a matter of course." Apparently, Santos's call didn't contain anything "improper."
A door opens, and Josh walks in, with a thousand bags, to an incredibly messy apartment; dry cleaning hanging from a treadmill is an especially fine touch. Josh drops every bag simultaneously, and takes a deep breath -- but the breath says, "I'm overwhelmed," much more than "Ah, I'm home." Though I'd be stressed out just standing in there with so many piles of stuff all around, I don't think that's his problem. Josh literally collapses on the couch, and then there's a knock at the door. He slowly and painfully threads his way to the door, where Donna is standing. Josh mumbles, "When I said we needed to talk, I wasn't necessarily thinking about tonight. I'm kinda fried..." But Donna softly says, "Who said anything about talking?" And then she proceeds to maul him with her well-glossed lips, and the door is kicked shut.
Sometime later -- whether it's the next morning or later that night -- Josh is back to his familiar hunched pose over his work at a desk in his apartment, wearing boxers and an undershirt. Donna comes out of another room, fastening her earrings. This is definitely a much more comfortable scene than the one we first witnessed.