"Josh, remember to pack warm clothes." Donna breezed through his
office for the umpteenth time in as many minutes on another imaginary
errand.
Josh grunted. One of the few things he had learned during the campaign was that to ignore Donna was to invoke not only her wrath but also the wrath of all of the other females present. And to answer her with anything understandable was to give her some sort of warped encouragement. A non-committal grunt was the only safe answer.
"And winter boots," she called from her desk.
"Donna, I'm the Deputy Chief of Staff to the most powerful man in the free world. I know how to pack a suitcase." He wasn't going to get any work done if he kept being interrupted.
Donna stood, making her way to the doorway and arranging herself comfortably against the jamb, shrugging as if to say, 'Yeah, sure you do.' There was a moment of silence and Josh turned back to his work, relieved. Then it came, "They speak English, don't they?"
"Donna. It's Canada. What other language would they possibly speak?"
"French, Josh, Canadians speak French." Apparently his reaction to the information appeased her because she flitted back out of his office.
"French?" he called, somewhat incredulous.
"French."
"Well, whose stupid idea was it for them to speak French?"
There was no answer to his question. After a moment of debating with himself over whether or not he really wanted to leap into this fire, he pushed back his chair and walked to the door. "The French." So, maybe she hadn't heard his question after all.
"Right. Whose stupid idea was it for them to speak French?" he repeated happily.
"The French people, the citizens of France, the French."
"Oh." He paused for a moment in thought. "The President doesn't speak French, or at least he hasn't told us if he does."
Donna merely shrugged. "I'm going for lunch, Josh."
He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "Hey, Toby! Do they speak French?"
Toby didn't slow in his brisk stride and didn't show any signs of having heard the question. Josh wasn't concerned and ran to catch up. "Do the Canadians speak French?" he repeated.
"Some of them," Toby sighed. He had hoped that by ignoring Josh that the question would go away.
"Do the ones we're going to be talking to speak French?"
"Most likely." As he spoke, Toby pushed open a door, no easy feat considering the stack of papers in his arms.
Josh followed blindly. "The President doesn't speak French, at least not unless he just hasn't bothered to tell us."
"Although I am a man of many talents, regrettably that is not one of them." Josh's head pivoted towards the speaker.
"Mister President!" He looked around frantically. "I'm sorry. I'll, uh, go now." Josh nearly backed into the wall as he stumbled for the door.
"Now, what was that all about?" Jed stared after Josh, thoroughly confused.
Toby shrugged. "Where's Leo?"
"Here. What's on the agenda with the Canadians?" Even as he spoke, Leo glanced tiredly at his watch. He had been rushing from meeting to meeting all morning in an attempt to tie up all of the loose ends before they left for Ottawa.
"CJ has the schedule." Toby, glancing over at the President, took a seat.
"There's only one schedule?" Leo asked irritably. "Then where the hell is CJ?"
Jed shrugged. "Briefing the press. Isn't that her job?"
Leo sat down opposite Toby. "Where are Sam and Josh?"
Toby gestured helpfully to the hallway. "Not here."
Leo sighed. "Do we at least know what we're going to talk about?"
"Free trade and the way they spell things." Jed frowned at the newspaper in front of him.
"Yes, sir. We're going to tell the Prime Minister that because his country doesn't spell their words right we're going to overthrow the free trade agreement."
"And Josh wants to bring up the French thing. I think."
"What in God's name is the French thing?" Leo stared at Toby as if he had grown another head.
"He didn't know they spoke French."
"And this qualifies as a thing?"
"Apparently."
"Sorry, I'm late. I got lost coming back from lunch." Sam looked more than a little frazzled.
"Sam, we've been here for a week now and you still don't know your way from your office to the mess and back again?"
"No, but I can describe, in minute detail, the route from here to Nova Scotia. Does that count for anything?"
"Sam, in your wanderings did you happen to see Josh?" It was Toby's turn to look pointedly at his watch as he spoke.
"Yeah, I'll go get him."
"No, we'll send someone else after him; I don't want to have to pick you up in Nova Scotia. Plus, we've got to get this gong show started."
"Leo, are you comparing my presidency to a gong show?"
"No, sir, Mister President."
"Okay, I'm here."
"CJ, where's the schedule?" Toby stared at her empty hands in disbelief.
"Don't you have another copy?"
"Apparently this administration is taking a strong stance on environmental issues by refusing to make copies of important documents." Leo glared at them each in turn. "Now, where is the remaining prodigal son?"
"I'll go get him, and the schedule," CJ answered over her shoulder as she walked out the door.
"She'd better not get lost," Leo mumbled, his eyes flickering over to Sam.
Josh came running in the next minute, shaking his watch and holding it up to his ear. "My watch stopped." Then he paused, counting heads. "Where's CJ?"
"She went to go find you, and the schedule," Jed said from behind his desk.
"The schedule? There's only one copy?" Josh looked from face to face. "It's not in French is it?"
Before anyone had the chance to attempt a retort, CJ walked in. "I couldn't find Josh."
"Maybe because I'm already here."
"You have the schedule?" Leo asked, exasperated. CJ nodded and held it out to Leo without another word. The piece of paper slipped from her hand and landed on the floor at Josh's feet. As Josh bent over to pick it up, he knocked over a cup of coffee that had been sitting on nearby table. His white shirt and the precious schedule were drenched in the brown liquid.
Leo gestured to the chairs and couches around him. Catching Jed's eye, he made a small gesture. Jed nodded his agreement. "All of you sit. Now," he barked.
"Here's the schedule, Leo," Josh said apologetically, handing him the soggy, brown paper.
"Merci beaucoup, Josh." Josh stared at Leo, open-mouthed.
Toby decided to have a little fun of his own and trotted out his one trusty French sentence. "Est-ce je peux parler avec un person qui parles l'anglais?"
"Bonjour, je m'appelle Sam. Comment s'appelle tu? Comment ça va? Je suis bien." Sam couldn't resist joining in.
"Since when did we start having meetings in French?" Josh whined.
"Actually, you heard just about the extent of my French." Leo, along with Josh, didn't have the first clue what any of the others had spouted off.
"Me too," Sam added, grinning at his friends and co-workers. "Add me to that list." Toby glanced at his watch again. "What does the schedule, now that we are in possession of the sole existing copy of this most secret document, say?" he asked shortly.
"If you want a copy that badly, just ask one of the reporters if you can borrow their copy for a minute," CJ interjected.
"Let me get this straight. We've given out copies to the press, but we didn't bother to keep a copy for ourselves." Leo stared at CJ, hoping that she wouldn't confirm the lunacy that he had just summarised. "What else do they know that we don't?"
She countered, shrugging, "About the only thing they don't know is what we're going to be talking about. Do we even know what we're going to be talking about?"
"Free trade, rising cost of living, inflation, immigration policies, NORAD, NATO, and genetic engineering on our part," Leo answered, ticking the items off on his fingers as he spoke.
"Why NORAD and NATO?" Sam asked. He hadn't been aware of any issues arising from those two items. But, then again, he usually wasn't involved in matter of national security.
The missile shield." Jed paused for a second before continuing. "My predecessors were working on creating a missile shield, as you know, but now it's almost ready for testing. Canada has been scaling back their commitments to NATO in recent years, and the idea of the shield directly affects our NORAD agreement."
"And any missiles we fire will be flying right over Canadian soil," Sam added, with growing understanding.
"Right," Leo answered. He had been the driving force behind continuing the project. "And it might be hard to convince them. They're still fighting over the last test."
"And they should be."
"Why do you say that, Sam?" Toby asked quietly.
"It's their country. We're shooting highly dangerous weapons over top of it. Why wouldn't they fight about it? Wouldn't you fight about it if the tables were reversed?"
"Is that everything, sir?" Leo asked, cutting of the discussion between Toby and Sam. It was a good debate, and one that needed to happen, but now, in the Oval Office, wasn't the right time or place.
"For us. The Canadians will probably want to discuss a few things with us though. They raised tobacco taxes and want to implement a new gun program. And they're looking at another health care reform. Plus, they can't compete with our proposed farm subsidies," Jed answered, glancing at one of the many sheets of paper on his desk. "Any other questions?
"How often do I have to brief the press?" CJ asked.
"Our press or theirs?"
"I have to brief their press?" she panicked.
"You're briefing their press, and they're briefing ours. But don't worry, they're joint briefings and the Canadian press secretary will be there."
"CJ, relax, you'll do fine." Jed smiled at her. "Now shoo people, I'm sure you're all late for meetings, and I've got a country to run."
"Goodbye, sir," Sam headed for the door.
"And remember to pack warm clothes," Josh added, thinking at the last minute that he sounded very much like Donna.
"Fine, Leo. I agree. My presidency is a gong show."
Josh grunted. One of the few things he had learned during the campaign was that to ignore Donna was to invoke not only her wrath but also the wrath of all of the other females present. And to answer her with anything understandable was to give her some sort of warped encouragement. A non-committal grunt was the only safe answer.
"And winter boots," she called from her desk.
"Donna, I'm the Deputy Chief of Staff to the most powerful man in the free world. I know how to pack a suitcase." He wasn't going to get any work done if he kept being interrupted.
Donna stood, making her way to the doorway and arranging herself comfortably against the jamb, shrugging as if to say, 'Yeah, sure you do.' There was a moment of silence and Josh turned back to his work, relieved. Then it came, "They speak English, don't they?"
"Donna. It's Canada. What other language would they possibly speak?"
"French, Josh, Canadians speak French." Apparently his reaction to the information appeased her because she flitted back out of his office.
"French?" he called, somewhat incredulous.
"French."
"Well, whose stupid idea was it for them to speak French?"
There was no answer to his question. After a moment of debating with himself over whether or not he really wanted to leap into this fire, he pushed back his chair and walked to the door. "The French." So, maybe she hadn't heard his question after all.
"Right. Whose stupid idea was it for them to speak French?" he repeated happily.
"The French people, the citizens of France, the French."
"Oh." He paused for a moment in thought. "The President doesn't speak French, or at least he hasn't told us if he does."
Donna merely shrugged. "I'm going for lunch, Josh."
He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "Hey, Toby! Do they speak French?"
Toby didn't slow in his brisk stride and didn't show any signs of having heard the question. Josh wasn't concerned and ran to catch up. "Do the Canadians speak French?" he repeated.
"Some of them," Toby sighed. He had hoped that by ignoring Josh that the question would go away.
"Do the ones we're going to be talking to speak French?"
"Most likely." As he spoke, Toby pushed open a door, no easy feat considering the stack of papers in his arms.
Josh followed blindly. "The President doesn't speak French, at least not unless he just hasn't bothered to tell us."
"Although I am a man of many talents, regrettably that is not one of them." Josh's head pivoted towards the speaker.
"Mister President!" He looked around frantically. "I'm sorry. I'll, uh, go now." Josh nearly backed into the wall as he stumbled for the door.
"Now, what was that all about?" Jed stared after Josh, thoroughly confused.
Toby shrugged. "Where's Leo?"
"Here. What's on the agenda with the Canadians?" Even as he spoke, Leo glanced tiredly at his watch. He had been rushing from meeting to meeting all morning in an attempt to tie up all of the loose ends before they left for Ottawa.
"CJ has the schedule." Toby, glancing over at the President, took a seat.
"There's only one schedule?" Leo asked irritably. "Then where the hell is CJ?"
Jed shrugged. "Briefing the press. Isn't that her job?"
Leo sat down opposite Toby. "Where are Sam and Josh?"
Toby gestured helpfully to the hallway. "Not here."
Leo sighed. "Do we at least know what we're going to talk about?"
"Free trade and the way they spell things." Jed frowned at the newspaper in front of him.
"Yes, sir. We're going to tell the Prime Minister that because his country doesn't spell their words right we're going to overthrow the free trade agreement."
"And Josh wants to bring up the French thing. I think."
"What in God's name is the French thing?" Leo stared at Toby as if he had grown another head.
"He didn't know they spoke French."
"And this qualifies as a thing?"
"Apparently."
"Sorry, I'm late. I got lost coming back from lunch." Sam looked more than a little frazzled.
"Sam, we've been here for a week now and you still don't know your way from your office to the mess and back again?"
"No, but I can describe, in minute detail, the route from here to Nova Scotia. Does that count for anything?"
"Sam, in your wanderings did you happen to see Josh?" It was Toby's turn to look pointedly at his watch as he spoke.
"Yeah, I'll go get him."
"No, we'll send someone else after him; I don't want to have to pick you up in Nova Scotia. Plus, we've got to get this gong show started."
"Leo, are you comparing my presidency to a gong show?"
"No, sir, Mister President."
"Okay, I'm here."
"CJ, where's the schedule?" Toby stared at her empty hands in disbelief.
"Don't you have another copy?"
"Apparently this administration is taking a strong stance on environmental issues by refusing to make copies of important documents." Leo glared at them each in turn. "Now, where is the remaining prodigal son?"
"I'll go get him, and the schedule," CJ answered over her shoulder as she walked out the door.
"She'd better not get lost," Leo mumbled, his eyes flickering over to Sam.
Josh came running in the next minute, shaking his watch and holding it up to his ear. "My watch stopped." Then he paused, counting heads. "Where's CJ?"
"She went to go find you, and the schedule," Jed said from behind his desk.
"The schedule? There's only one copy?" Josh looked from face to face. "It's not in French is it?"
Before anyone had the chance to attempt a retort, CJ walked in. "I couldn't find Josh."
"Maybe because I'm already here."
"You have the schedule?" Leo asked, exasperated. CJ nodded and held it out to Leo without another word. The piece of paper slipped from her hand and landed on the floor at Josh's feet. As Josh bent over to pick it up, he knocked over a cup of coffee that had been sitting on nearby table. His white shirt and the precious schedule were drenched in the brown liquid.
Leo gestured to the chairs and couches around him. Catching Jed's eye, he made a small gesture. Jed nodded his agreement. "All of you sit. Now," he barked.
"Here's the schedule, Leo," Josh said apologetically, handing him the soggy, brown paper.
"Merci beaucoup, Josh." Josh stared at Leo, open-mouthed.
Toby decided to have a little fun of his own and trotted out his one trusty French sentence. "Est-ce je peux parler avec un person qui parles l'anglais?"
"Bonjour, je m'appelle Sam. Comment s'appelle tu? Comment ça va? Je suis bien." Sam couldn't resist joining in.
"Since when did we start having meetings in French?" Josh whined.
"Actually, you heard just about the extent of my French." Leo, along with Josh, didn't have the first clue what any of the others had spouted off.
"Me too," Sam added, grinning at his friends and co-workers. "Add me to that list." Toby glanced at his watch again. "What does the schedule, now that we are in possession of the sole existing copy of this most secret document, say?" he asked shortly.
"If you want a copy that badly, just ask one of the reporters if you can borrow their copy for a minute," CJ interjected.
"Let me get this straight. We've given out copies to the press, but we didn't bother to keep a copy for ourselves." Leo stared at CJ, hoping that she wouldn't confirm the lunacy that he had just summarised. "What else do they know that we don't?"
She countered, shrugging, "About the only thing they don't know is what we're going to be talking about. Do we even know what we're going to be talking about?"
"Free trade, rising cost of living, inflation, immigration policies, NORAD, NATO, and genetic engineering on our part," Leo answered, ticking the items off on his fingers as he spoke.
"Why NORAD and NATO?" Sam asked. He hadn't been aware of any issues arising from those two items. But, then again, he usually wasn't involved in matter of national security.
The missile shield." Jed paused for a second before continuing. "My predecessors were working on creating a missile shield, as you know, but now it's almost ready for testing. Canada has been scaling back their commitments to NATO in recent years, and the idea of the shield directly affects our NORAD agreement."
"And any missiles we fire will be flying right over Canadian soil," Sam added, with growing understanding.
"Right," Leo answered. He had been the driving force behind continuing the project. "And it might be hard to convince them. They're still fighting over the last test."
"And they should be."
"Why do you say that, Sam?" Toby asked quietly.
"It's their country. We're shooting highly dangerous weapons over top of it. Why wouldn't they fight about it? Wouldn't you fight about it if the tables were reversed?"
"Is that everything, sir?" Leo asked, cutting of the discussion between Toby and Sam. It was a good debate, and one that needed to happen, but now, in the Oval Office, wasn't the right time or place.
"For us. The Canadians will probably want to discuss a few things with us though. They raised tobacco taxes and want to implement a new gun program. And they're looking at another health care reform. Plus, they can't compete with our proposed farm subsidies," Jed answered, glancing at one of the many sheets of paper on his desk. "Any other questions?
"How often do I have to brief the press?" CJ asked.
"Our press or theirs?"
"I have to brief their press?" she panicked.
"You're briefing their press, and they're briefing ours. But don't worry, they're joint briefings and the Canadian press secretary will be there."
"CJ, relax, you'll do fine." Jed smiled at her. "Now shoo people, I'm sure you're all late for meetings, and I've got a country to run."
"Goodbye, sir," Sam headed for the door.
"And remember to pack warm clothes," Josh added, thinking at the last minute that he sounded very much like Donna.
"Fine, Leo. I agree. My presidency is a gong show."