Disclaimer: JAG belongs to CBS, Paramount, and Don Bellisario. No infringement is intended, and no profit is being made.
Diplomacy is to do and say the nastiest thing in the nicest way. - Isaac Goldberg
Clayton Webb turned the key in the ignition of his BMW. He wanted to go somewhere where he could drive fast and not have to worry about hitting anything. He really wasn't in a good mood. Days when he had to work with Rabb tended to do that to him. The man pissed him off more than anyone else in Washington. Webb didn't know why, but he had given up trying to pretend that he liked Rabb.
Webb slammed on his breaks as a little red Porsche ran a red light in front of him. Doesn't anyone know that red means stop, he thought as he ignored a stop sign next to him. God, what a day. No one wanted to cooperate, which meant that he had to go around negotiating with various governments, asking for concessions that he would never get.
Webb skidded to a stop in front of Almost Home and took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He had gotten most of his aggression out on the drive over, and the rest could be saved for the next time he had to work with the people at JAG.
"Hello, Mr. Webb," one of the teachers greeted him in a fake happy voice. Webb always hated that voice, but he found it a lot harder to get angry when he was here.
"Daddy!" screamed a little girl who came running over carrying a drawing. "Look what I made."
"That's beautiful, Sally," he said. "Did you have fun today?"
"Yeah!"
They got Sally's jacket and lunch box, and after making sure that she zipped up her coat- after all, it was cold out- and got in the car. Webb drove home, much more slowly this time, happy that once again all the problems of the world had been solved by his little princess.
Diplomacy is to do and say the nastiest thing in the nicest way. - Isaac Goldberg
Clayton Webb turned the key in the ignition of his BMW. He wanted to go somewhere where he could drive fast and not have to worry about hitting anything. He really wasn't in a good mood. Days when he had to work with Rabb tended to do that to him. The man pissed him off more than anyone else in Washington. Webb didn't know why, but he had given up trying to pretend that he liked Rabb.
Webb slammed on his breaks as a little red Porsche ran a red light in front of him. Doesn't anyone know that red means stop, he thought as he ignored a stop sign next to him. God, what a day. No one wanted to cooperate, which meant that he had to go around negotiating with various governments, asking for concessions that he would never get.
Webb skidded to a stop in front of Almost Home and took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He had gotten most of his aggression out on the drive over, and the rest could be saved for the next time he had to work with the people at JAG.
"Hello, Mr. Webb," one of the teachers greeted him in a fake happy voice. Webb always hated that voice, but he found it a lot harder to get angry when he was here.
"Daddy!" screamed a little girl who came running over carrying a drawing. "Look what I made."
"That's beautiful, Sally," he said. "Did you have fun today?"
"Yeah!"
They got Sally's jacket and lunch box, and after making sure that she zipped up her coat- after all, it was cold out- and got in the car. Webb drove home, much more slowly this time, happy that once again all the problems of the world had been solved by his little princess.