"Eli Gold: The Boy Who Lived." Kalinda said dryly, eyeing him appraisingly.
"I assure you, I am much, much more than that." Said Boy brushed past her, entering his office and tossing his briefcase to the side as be dropped onto the couch wearily.
"Rough night?" she prompted.
"You have no idea..." he rubbed his eyes, leaning back on the cushion behind him.
"Next time, try a glass of water between shots." She handed him a cup of coffee.
"Thanks," he muttered.
"Save it."
It took him a moment to catch her meaning. "Oh, God, the cheese... last night..." he moaned. "Kalinda, what are we going to do?"
"You're the crisis manager. I'm pretty sure the question is what you're going to do."
"I'm not going to beg," he said with a sigh.
"Oh?"
"Please. You know I don't have the energy for this-" he gestured between them vaguely for a moment, at a loss for words to explain exactly what 'this' was- "at this hour."
He had his head in his hands now, and on any other day she'd have almost felt bad for him. "Eli..." she checked her watch with a wry smile, "it's two-oh-seven pm."
"I... is Diane in yet?"
"Yes, and she's been in court since nine o'clock this morning trying to get you an appeal."
"WHAT." He sprang up, then groaned as the blood rushed to his head. Popping a few aspirin, he drained the last of his coffee and grabbed his briefcase. "I've got to go. Do me a favor-"
"One step ahead of you."
"Right." An awkward pause. He straightened his tie nervously. "Thank you. For everything."
She looked at him for a moment, then nodded and left. They had work to do.