2: Breaking Strain

Donna stared at the ancient book in her hands, baffled. Who would take the trouble of sneaking into her office in the dead of night to deposit a book that hadn't been read for hundreds of years, full of trivial information on a subject so bizarre its relevance to modern living was non-existent?

When you put it like that, there was only one possible culprit. "Somebody needs to get President Bartlet a hobby," she announced, shaking her head.

"What's that?" asked Josh, as she brought him in the files he had requested.

"I said, the President needs a hobby."

"Yeah, 'cuz, you know, that whole running the country thing doesn't keep him nearly busy enough."

"I'm serious, Josh. Would you believe he snuck into my office in the middle of the night to leave a book in my filing cabinet?"

"You're sure it was the President? It couldn't have been, you know, the Barnes & Noble infiltration squad?"

"Josh, this book is like four hundred years old. Does anyone else around here have an ancient trivia fetish?"

"You're accusing the President of being a fetishist now?"

"Josh!"

"'Cuz I gotta tell you, that won't look good on my staff evaluation."

"Since when did you write staff evalutions, Joshua?"

"Since my staff started getting paranoid enough to accuse the President of the United States of sneaking around in their filing cabinets."

"This isn't paranoia, Josh."

"Of course not." He offered her a big cheesy grin and moved ridiculously slowly, making a big show of 'no threatening movements'. "Now you're going to tell me about the calorie count in the muffins, right?"

"Margaret has a point, Josh."

"Margaret has numerous points, Donna. Points of insanity, points of paranoid delusion, points of hysteria..."

"Josh-"

"I'm telling you Donna, she's a bad influence on you."

"Oh, and you're such a good one?"

"I am the best! I am da man." He smiled smugly, slumping back into his chair. The end of his tie ended up in his coffee cup.

Donna gazed at him just long enough to make him self-consciously flick it out. "You da man," she agreed wryly, and swept out before he could make any reply.

Cathy and Ginger were both clustered around the coffee machine when Donna went to get a refill. She wasn't really that much in the mood for coffee, but every time she went and got herself a cup was a time she didn't get Josh a cup - and he always made a big fuss over it.

Not that she got any kick out of arguing with him, or anything.

The other two fell nervously silent as she approached. Great. Secrets.

"What's up?" she asked, pouring out a steaming cup. More silence, as they both looked guilty. These people work for the White House senior staff, and they're this bad at doing 'poker-face'? "What?"

They shared a glance, and Cathy got volunteered to be the giver of bad news. "Sam and Toby decided they needed to call in a polling expert on those numbers they got yesterday..."

"So?" she demanded, heaping in sugar. She had an inkling of who it was going to be... but of course, she didn't care.

"Sam suggested they get Joey Lucas," said Cathy, in the tone she might have used if Sam had suggested they bring in a convicted mass murderer.

"So?" she repeated, stirring her coffee a little too vigorously. Joey Lucas? So what. Not caring. Joey Lucas, gatherer of rosebuds, back in town? Not caring.

They both shot her glances that were irritatingly pitying. "We know you don't like it when Joey Lucas..." Ginger began cautiously.

"I have no problem with Joey Lucas," she interrupted quickly. Damn. Over-defensive there, Donna.

"I mean, it's completely understandable," Cathy babbled on rapidly. "I mean, obviously it's awkward what with Josh-"

"I have no problem with this thing with Josh and Joey Lucas!" Oops. Shouting there, Donna. Thank God Josh was always too lazy to slope over to the coffee machine himself. "I have no problem at all," she said at a more reasonable volume. "Why should I care who Josh chooses to moon over? Why should I care if my boss has the complete lack of sense to make puppy dog eyes at a woman who came on to him while she was sleeping with Al Kiefer-"

She slammed the metal teaspoon down on the worktop. It snapped in half and the bowl of the spoon flew off and skittered into the sink.

All three of them looked at the broken spoon for a long moment. The other two quickly picked up their coffees and wheeled away. "Just thought you ought to know," Cathy said over her shoulder as they scuttled rapidly away.

Donna went over to the sink and picked out the other half of the spoon. The metal had snapped as cleanly and easily as if it had been only plastic.

She absently fitted the pieces back together in her hand. "Stupid cheap slave-labour made kitchenware," she muttered a little unsteadily.