Blake stood in the middle of the Secretary's inner office and debated. Russell Jackson was on the phone demanding to be put through, but he just couldn't. His boss would want to take the call, citing no need to push the president's Chief of Staff to another heart attack, but… he couldn't. They'd done two nights without sleep, and by they he meant she and himself, the others had been sent home each night quite forcefully.
As for himself, he'd learned very quickly that on the nights the Secretary dug her heels in on working through the night he knew he his job was to somehow vanish without being noticed to her home and find two changes of clothes, two because once his boss became a bit sleep deprived she also became a bit picky about clothes. His other job, aside from the constant task of trying to force feed her, was to find moments to catch sleep himself. He would nap at his desk, he would find a moment to try and fit onto Nadine's tiny sofa, more than once in an SUV while the DS agents were escorting her somewhere quickly.
The Secretary generally muddled through on coffee and adrenaline. But once the moment, the crisis, was over, well, then he was left with this. Two nights of no sleep and now he was watching her on her own sofa, curled so that she wasn't taking up the whole thing and face to the back, wrapped in the warm, oversized sweater he'd stocked her closet with. It had been a surreptitious gift from himself.
No matter how much Russell Jackson yelled, Blake couldn't bring himself to try and wake her. It would have to wait. Turning on his heel, Blake headed for the door, switching off the lights before slipping out. Russell would still be mad later, of that he was certain, but right now his job was this, to make sure she got sleep. He would stand watch for now.