From a prompt list request for: "Are you-are you flirting with me?"

"Hello, I'm Henry McCord from DIA. I have an appointment to see Secretary Adams in—" he checked his watch— "five minutes."

Blake glanced up at him. "Oh, yes. Dr. McCord. I'm Blake Moran, the Secretary's personal assistant. We spoke on the phone." He stuck out his hand, and Henry shook it firmly.

"Nice to meet you. Good to put a face to the name."

"Likewise. She's on a video call right now, but she should be finishing up in the next ten minutes or so. You can go on through those doors and have a seat. I'll come get you when she's done."

"Sure, no problem."

"Can I get you anything while you wait? Water, coffee, tea?"

"I'm fine, thanks"

"I'll let you know when the Secretary is ready for you."

/

Henry approached Blake's desk with slight apprehension.

This was his third meeting on the seventh floor in a month—practically unheard of for anyone. But the Secretary insisted, and so Blake rearranged her schedule every time to get him in like she wanted. He wondered what it was, exactly, that had DIA requiring so much of her face-to-face time, but it was Blake's rule not to ask more questions than was necessary.

He glanced up, fingers flying over his keyboard as he cranked out an email, and tipped his head in Henry's direction. "Nice to see you again, Dr. McCord. Take care."

Henry lingered. It took Blake another three seconds to realize Henry was still standing there. When he realized, he slowed his fingers, and then stopped typing altogether. "Is there... something I can help you with?"

"Look, Blake," Henry said, in a tone that Blake recognized full-well meant he was about to be needled for something he likely couldn't give, "I know you're the Secretary's gatekeeper, so to speak..."

"Yes?"

"...And I know that no one can get to her without going through you, so... just give it to me straight. What do I have to do to get on her schedule again later this week?"

Both of Blake's eyebrows shot up at that. "Again?"

"I'd really like another appointment with the Secretary."

"Well, that simply isn't done. And you— you've had three meetings with her already this month, the last two of which were, by the way, last minute additions—"

"I know, and I appreciate that, but—"

"—and I don't think you understand just how impossible it is for me to have made that happen."

"Surely you—"

"Surely you can appreciate that the Secretary is a very busy woman," Blake said firmly. "I cannot simply fit you in on a whim. And even if I could, I wouldn't."

"I'll take any window of spare time she has," he said, but Blake was already shaking his head.

"Quite frankly sir, you'll find more windows in the bowels of this building than in the Secretary's current schedule."

"Okay. All right." Henry thought for a long moment, regrouping as he searched for a different strategy. Blake continued on with his email. Finally, Henry asked, "Well then how... how can I sweeten the deal for you, Blake? What can I do to make this work for you, too?"

"...I beg your pardon?"

"There must be something I can do for you."

Blake stared. "Dr. McCord, are you— are you flirting with me?"

Henry's eyes widened. "Wha- no! No, I was saying— I just meant— How could you think—"

"Relax, I'm just messing with you." He broke into a grin.

"Christ, Blake."

"But you should know for future reference that I don't respond to bribery in any form," he said seriously. "Another whiff of something like it and I'll kick you so far off the Secretary's radar that—"

"I get it, I get it," Henry said, holding up his hands up. "I didn't mean it like that, anyway. I just figured... I don't know. Sorry. I was trying to be nice."

"Yes well, stop that."

"How do I get on your good side?"

"Be nice to the Secretary. That'll get you on my good side." Blake sighed, then decided that just this once—just this once!—he would give in. Because he liked Henry McCord.

And because he was beginning to see the real reason DIA was showing so much sudden interest in working with the State Department. It wasn't all DIA. And it wasn't all about the State Department.

Blake scrolled through the schedule, trying to find an opening where there was none to be had. Someone would have to be moved, and Blake needed to decide who would be the least pissed off about it.

After a moment he said, "How about lunch on Friday? I can give you half an hour at one-thirty."

"That would be great. Thanks, Blake." Suddenly, Henry looked a little nervous, a little giddy.

Blake shuffled the schedule (and made a mental note to call the Mexican ambassador's office) before looking up again. "She likes that Thai place on 18th street," he said neutrally. "Chicken pad thai and papaya salad with extra peanuts. And... if you get steamed dumplings, that'll probably net you extra points."

Henry nodded. "Got it. Thanks again." He rapped his knuckles on the desk and began to walk away.

"And Henry?"

He turned back.

Blake schooled away a smile. "She likes peonies more than roses."

Henry didn't bother to hide his. "Good to know." As he headed down to the elevator, there was a greater spring to his step. Blake rolled his eyes.

Nadine sidled up to his desk, watching Henry McCord go. "What was that about?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head and went back to his email. "Nothing important."

If the Secretary ever accused him of meddling, he would deny it to his grave.