Title: How to Imitate Friends and Influence People

Author: Mindy

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Spoilers: nope.

Summary: Jack/Liz implied. Jenna knows what Jack likes.

-x-

"What are you doing?" Liz asked when she entered her office to find Jenna rummaging through her desk drawers.

Jenna continued her rummaging: "You have a spare set of glasses in here, right?"

"And why're you wearing my jacket?" she added, stepping closer, coffee in hand.

"Oh," Jenna simpered, straightening and smoothing her hands down the TGS emblazoned jacket: "I need to get on Jack's good side."

"So?" Liz walked over, slammed the drawer, opened another and handed Jenna her spare pair of glasses.

"So-o..." Jenna mused ingeniously: "I am attempting to recreate this whole geek-with-a-grudge look you have going on. Within reason, of course -- no one would recognize me if I went brunette."

Liz frowned and looked her over. She was wearing jeans and bootss, her borrowed jacket, unzipped to reveal a generous glimpse of cleavage and she had her hair up in a simple, messy ponytail. "What are you talking about?"

Jenna elaborated enthusiastically: "I asked makeup girl to do me au naturale, I haven't washed my hair in three days so it's really greasy and I deliberately spilt sauce on myself to get into the part."

Liz looked at the large sauce stain now on her jacket: "Jenna…" she whined: "I just cleaned that."

Jenna looked momentarily contrite. "Oh, sorry."

"Just what is the point of all this?" Liz muttered testily.

Jenna held up a finger and told her knowingly: "I'm not stupid, Liz. I know what Jack is into."

Liz cocked her head. "Excuse me?"

With an overly mischievous glint in her eye, Jenna waved her hands over Liz, up and down her jeans and jacket-clad self.

Liz blinked and took a sip of her coffee. "I have no idea what you're getting at."

"Liz!" she sighed dramatically and elbowed her friend: "How can you be so dense? You have pulling power with Jack! He gives you whatever you want." She pouted, looking like a petulant child and not for the first time.

Liz scoffed: "That's not true. That's…ridiculous, Jenna."

"Really?" Jenna countered skeptically: "Think about it, Liz, when has he ever said no to you?"

Liz thought about it for a moment. "Plenty of times. I mean…I can't think of any, but…there are days when Jack makes my life extremely difficult actually."

"Look," Jenna began in her most rational voice: "I can't explain it, but for whatever reason, Jack Donaghy has an obvious weakness for….whatever you've got going on here--" she gestured again to Liz's look: "-- you wouldn't deny your best friend your heartfelt blessing to make use of that for the good of her career, would you? And before you answer, let me just say, that the more seasoned a performer I become, all the better for your show, as well."

Liz plopped down in her chair: "What's the gig this time?"

Jenna walked around the desk as if taking centre stage: "It's the perfect project for me right now. Jack is producing a modern remake of 'Funny Face' -- which is another reason for my inventive disguise."

"Stealing my clothes and spilling stuff on 'em does not make a disguise," Liz told her flatly.

Jenna continued, oblivious and animated: "The main character starts out as a bookish, obsessive, style-less geek – in other words, you – before being plucked from anonymity and transformed into a singing, dancing, gorgeous model! In other words…" she finished, laying her hands over her heart: "me."

Jack cleared his throat, appearing in the doorway, eyes turned towards Liz. "Lemon--"

Jenna quickly put on the glasses Liz had lent her. "Hey, Jack. I mean…Suck it, Jack. I mean--" she frowned and stabbed a finger at him: "No! I will not do some stupid product integration sketch for you, you can--"

"Jenna," Jack interrupted, unconcerned by her conduct: "Would you mind? I need Lemon." He held the door and waited for her to exit.

Jenna squinted through the frames: "Wow," she muttered as she felt her way towards the door: "You really need these…Oh and Jack--" she turned once outside the door, a big grin on her face and her eyes distorted into large orbs behind the chunky lenses.

Without hearing her out, Jack swung the door shut and walked towards Liz's desk: "I need your opinion. I have an important conference call this afternoon and I want you to tell me which tie gives off a greater air of authority." He held up two ties, one burgundy, one yellow. He took turns holding them under his chin, his face lined with expectation.

"Okay…" Liz pointed to the burgundy. "That one. Definitely. Very authoritative. I'd be intimidated. Even over the phone."

"Good." Jack nodded and stuffed the ties back in his pockets: "Also, my mother is in town and wants to have dinner. Obviously, we'd both prefer you to be there, so--"

"Colleen called me already," she nodded cheerfully: "We arranged it all. Nine o'clock, Tuesday. And she told me to tell you not to be late."

"Fine," he said with a bob of his head: "I'll order us a car for eight. One more thing," he added, taking a seat opposite her: "did you manage to give my speech a lookover?"

"I did, " she replied, searching her desk for the pages: "I made a few edits, nothing major…and scratched out some of the stuff on synergy, it went on way too long..." She handed the pages across: "And I had you finish with a joke about spreadsheets."

Jack took the pages, flipped to the end and read her joke. A moment later, he let out an enormous belly laugh, then mused quietly: "That will go down well." He tucked the pages into his breast pocket and swiftly changed topics: "So what's going on with Jenna?"

"Oh, nothing." She waved a hand in the air: "She's…being me to get on your good side. Something about a movie you're producing. She wants in."

Jack looked to one side. "I don't get it."

Liz shrugged: "She thinks I have some influence over you, you'll do whatever I tell you to."

Jack scoffed: "Wherever did she get such a ludicrous idea?"

"I dunno." Liz gave another shrug then leaned across the desk imploringly: "But give her a shot at it, okay? If she's singing and dancing in a movie, at least she's not doing it on my stage."

Jack raised his eyebrows and murmured dryly: "And I exist to make your life easier, do I, Lemon?"

"Not generally," she huffed, plucking at a coffee stain on her sleeve: "but I wouldn't mind getting my jacket back."

"Well, I'll consider it." He rose, clutching the back of the chair as he told her: "But you need to make sure she washes her hair by Friday night."

She tipped her coffee at him: "You got it."

"Either that," he added, heading for the door: "or you're going to be writing all her sketches with her wearing a paper bag over her head. Or an animal head of some sort."

"Yeah," she muttered, shaking her head: "she'll never go for that."

"Those glasses look ridiculous too, are they a joke?" He let out a short, sharp laugh: "Who would wear such a degradation on their face?

Liz adjusted her frames. "No one I know."

"And that shapeless jacket--"

"Alright, okay," she sighed: "I get it. She looks crappy. I look crappy--"

"Did I say that?"

"Just get outta here," she ordered, standing and beckoning him away: "I've got work to do."

Jack complied but hesitated at the door, turning back to her with a thoughtful expression: "Incidentally...who signed off on those jackets?"

She smirked, reminding him: "You did, Jack."

"I did?" He stared at the carpet for a moment, musing lowly: "That's interesting, I don't remember doing that…Are you sure?"

Liz smiled: "Uh huh."

He shook himself, pointed at her with one finger: "We're still on for lunch, right?"

She held her hands at her sides: "As long as I don't have to change."

Jack's eyes dropped over her, taking in what he could see of her outfit. He smiled back. "Never change, Lemon," he murmured after a moment.

"Then…yeah." She nodded as he turned and left: "I will see you at two. And remember--" she called after him: "it's your shout!"

From the writer's room, Jack called back: "Whatever you say, Lemon!"

Jenna sauntered up to her door, one hand on hip. She lounged against the frame, peering pointedly over the borrowed glasses at Liz.

Liz held up a finger: "Don't."

She shrugged: "Wha--?"

"Just -- don't." She dropped back down into her chair. "And gimme my jacket."

END.