Author: Elina
Title: Overeating
Summary: Ainsley - 1st in the 'Seven deadly sins' -series
Author's notes: I got the idea for this series from, yes, 'Seven' (that's right, the movie). I know what you're thinking but, no, Toby isn't going mental and hacking people's head's off (well, at least not literally). Actually that would make an interesting story... No, no, no, that wasn't what I was supposed to say. What I was saying was that this story is more like a prelude, an introduction, so be patient with me, I'm only getting started. The series shows a Friday from seven POVs. Also see (coming): 'Greed', 'Laziness', 'Envy', 'Hate', 'Pride' and at last but not least 'Lust'. Thank you Eve, whose notes and grammar check (my grammar sucks) helped a lot. Without her this would probably be even more confusing. Feedback, as always, is highly worshipped.
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me, I don't get paid for this. The names for the side-characters are just taken from the wind, they're not supposed to refer to anyone. Don't sue me.
Seven deadly sins - Overeating
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The hunger of the body can be filled,
The hunger of the heart just keeps complaining.
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The pipes were making weird, loud noises. I'm talking eardrum-breaking noises here. I have to call somebody to fix them. You see, some of us have to work, and I can't concentrate with this noise.
I must have the lousiest office in the whole wide world.
"Will you SHUT UP!" I shouted at the pipes and hit my fist on the desk as hard as I could. Yeah, like that's going to help. I pressed my head against the top of the table. I feel like a maniac. I'm shouting at pipes, for God's sake! I hate this office. I really hate this office.
The pipes wouldn't shut up. They kept on making these noises that sounded like something was moving inside of them, banging and wailing. I don't know how to describe the noises, but they sounded horrible.
Actually, they were making noises that sounded frighteningly similar to the noises that my stomach was making.
I haven't eaten this morning, well that one lousy banana doesn't count as eating, it couldn't even fill a mouse. And, as it seems, looking at the amount of work I'm dealing with here, I won't be able to have a proper lunch either, and I'm already starving.
I leant back against the back of the chair and let my head hang back as my glance drifted up to the ceiling. Public Education Act. I'm supposed to go through it, check all the legal stuff and add some other things into it, or rather polish it up as Lionel Tribbey called it. I spent half of last night doing it; I didn't get to bed till after three thirty. The President has a plan, so they told me. That is all they told me. Sure I know what the act says, but that is all. This has been under construction for months, I know it, but this is the first time I've heard anything of its contents. I still don't think that they trust me enough to fill me in on these things before it's completely necessary. Sam says I'm being stupid. But he is the only one from the Senior Staff who doesn't treat me like a 'raw fish', a new comer. Don't get me wrong, they've all been nice and all, especially Donna, Leo and, yes, CJ, but I know they still think of me as a blond, leggy, republican chic who's stepped into shoes too big for her.
The next wave of noises started as a little whine and ended up as a long scraping squeak.
Somebody shoot me.
***
The mess was almost empty when I got there. I had to escape from that hellhole of an office for at least five minutes, I couldn't take the noise any longer. Besides I was hungry, and there have been researches done that say that a person needs energy to think clearly. So maybe now I can get some breakfast since I'm already on the move. I can eat and do some work at the same time, can't I? I glanced at my clock; it was nearly half past eleven. Well, it's more like lunchtime, actually.
I wonder if the canteen sells earplugs?
After I had piled my tray with enough food to hold me through this afternoon I sat down at the corner table and dug the files out of my suitcase. I tried to fit them all on the same table with no luck. I tried to move the tray on the other side of the table, so that the files would fit in front of me: didn't work, it was a too difficult position. So I moved the food from the tray, put the tray on the other chair and tried to lay the food down to where there were any space left on the table: I ended up with half of the files and an apple on the floor. I sighed and bent to pick them up.
"Searching for something interesting?"
I jerked up surprised and hit the back of my head at the edge of the table. "OW!" I don't think my head has hurt this much since I was seven and a kid next door threw a baseball at it. Trust me, that hurt. Who designs these tables, anyway? I'm sure that there a conspiracy amongst the designers so that every hard edge there is, is designed to be in such a place that no matter what you do, you always hit some place into it. I felt a hand grabbing my shoulder to help me up from under the table.
Sam.
"Why are you sneaking up on me like that? You really shouldn't startle people when there's a possibility of something hitting something," I moaned at him. He just gave me this gorgeous, Pepsodent-smile that was probably meant to be apologetic but, frankly, he didn't quite succeed in his attempt. It looked more like... He's laughing at me. "That's not funny!" His smile became wider. "It's not!"
Without saying a word he picked up the files and the apple and placing them in front of me on the table, sat down next to me. "Yes, you're right, it's not funny. -- Well, actually it was. -- But I couldn't help it, you just looked so cute." He kept on smirking at me. You know, sometimes I just feel like smacking him. I mean, who else could say a thing like that, call a girl cute, and at the same time make it seem like it was some kind of a joke or sarcasm or ... You don't call a girl cute with sarcasm. "Well, I hope you had you're fun," I remarked a bit bitterly, but I couldn't resist smiling. How could you resist it when he's smiling at you so adorably? Maybe I should call his mother for some baby pictures, just to see if that is a natural quality. Yes, and maybe to tease him a bit about his let-it-all-hang-out-period.
I rubbed the back of my head.
"Does it hurt?"
I glanced at him. "No, it just feels like it's been hit with a hammer."
"I'm sorry." He leant in closer to me and brushes my hand away to examine my head. "Let me see."
"Sam. It's OK." I tried to push his hands away and make him stop. It's very suspicious looking if someone's examining your head in the middle of the mess, you know. "Sam, everybody's watching... OW! Ow, ow... my hair. Sam, your shirt button --ow-- my hair is stuck -- don't pull!"
With a simple wrist movement he released my hair and my head and pulled back. "It looks fine to me." It's easy for him to say; he's the one who just made me hit my head and tried to pull half of my hair off. But I didn't say anything, just muttered something and turned back to my papers. For awhile he watched me gathering them before saying: "It's Friday, have you noticed?"
What? What is he going on about? "Yes, of course it's Friday. Yesterday was Thursday, remember?" He's getting weirder and weirder every time I meet him. Someone should make a research about his psyche.
He just shrugged. "I just thought that... You know the way Fridays always are."
"No, actually, I don't. How are they then?" I can't believe I'm having this conversation.
"Insane. Fridays are the days when everyone's always going mad." He sounded utterly disheartened.
"So, every Friday we have the house full of Charlie Mansons, huh?"
His face lit up again with a small smile. "No, not exactly Mansons, but not too far from it."
"Oh, I see..." I smiled back at him. Even though how weird our conversations some times are, I have to admit that I enjoy them. They're casual and welcome breaks from the work, and, yes, from the craziness of this place. "I've never noticed that."
"Haven't you? You should look around today, for example CJ and Toby --" I smiled at that. I could almost swear I heard them shouting at each other all the way to the basement. " -- or Leo."
"Yeah? What has he done now?"
"Stupid things. Very stupid things," he answered with a sigh. I got the feeling that he wasn't about to tell me anything more, so I let it go. If it's important I'm sure he'll let me know sooner or later.
"So, what's your excuse?"
He looked at me in a maze. "What?"
"Your excuse. For being crazy."
"I'm not crazy."
"Since when?" I remarked smiling. He stared at me for a second before giving a little laugh.
"Yeah, I bet I won't be that sure about my sanity at the end of this day."
"None of us will be."
"Of me being sane?"
"No, of any of us being sane." As I said that I rose up from my chair, gathering my papers and my food in my hands, as well as I could, ready to get back to my office. The five minutes I had promised myself were up and, if I ever intend to have anything finished, I'd better get back to work. He didn't get up, just followed me with his head's movement as I squeezed by him. I told him that I'd see him later. He just nodded, completely lost in his own thoughts.
"Well, what's your excuse then?" he finally yelled after me as I was almost at the door.
"Pipes!" I yelled back with a smile and a wink.
He stayed sitting there with a confused look on his face.
***
Am I only imagining it or is it getting hot in here, too? As if the pipes weren't enough torture.
I was sitting by my desk again and trying to go through the pile of files that had gathered mystically on my desk while I was away. For five minutes. I was only away for five minutes and ten files suddenly appeared on my desk. I'm a lawyer, not a magic-maker, you know.
I glanced at my watch. An hour had flown by unnoticed. I buried my face in my hands. My eyes hurt from reading. I rubbed them with my fingers for a while before cupping my cheeks with my hands and letting my head lean against them. From the side of my eye I glared at the one last half-eaten sandwich that was still sitting on top of the green law book that I'd dug out in case it would be useful. The small leaf of lettuce that peeked out from between the two bread slices seemed to be somehow sneering at me. I don't know how a vegetable could possibly do that, but it did. I'm going to blame all of my problems on that piece of food. That sandwich hadn't even been good. None of them had been. I have to complain about that to someone. Though, they had filled my stomach for awhile.
I grabbed the sandwich and threw it into the paper bin. I felt instantly better when I could take my frustration out on a piece of food. Everyone should be able to do that once in a while.
My good mood didn't last that long. The second I lowered my look back to the sheet of paper I'd been reading, it went down faster than… something that goes down fast.
During the last two days I've read more reports and memo's and files than I'd thought I'd ever read in my whole life. I've read reports from the HEW, the Senior Staff, some Congressmen, the Senior Staff of the Vice President, the Teacher's Union and some specialist guy called Henderson plus loads of others. I've read preliminary acts, preliminary acts of the preliminary acts and I've checked them all, and then double-checked them, and then triple-checked them. Every single one of them. I'm dreaming about teacher's wages and graduation statistics and how much it costs to educate one child. I'm going crazy here. And there isn't an end in sight.
I sighed and started rubbing my temples with my thumbs. With all the short nights and long days this better go through.
"Ainsley?"
My head jerked up as I heard the voice from the doorway. Leo gave me a tired smile and stepped in. The shadows made by the dim light that came from my small desk lamp --the only one that was on-- covered the other half of his face and made him look as exhausted and miserable as I was feeling, even more so.
"Good day, Mr. McGarry," I stammered. I wasn't exactly expecting him. As I started to stand up -- I think that's appropriate when someone from your higher rank comes in -- he just waved at me to sit back down. I did so. He walked slowly around the room studying the office that I had managed to decorate in somewhat bearable condition, with a little help from a friend. It's not like he hasn't seen it before, but this time he seemed to be examining it more thoroughly. I don't like this at all.
Finally he stopped walking and turned to look at me. "I need you to do me a favor."
Oh no, no, no, no, no, no, no….
"Mr. McGarry, I don't --" I started shaking my head.
"FEDC, Ainsley, you'll love it. Remember how you once went on and on about it with Toby?" Oh, no, I knew I shouldn't have done that… "Well, now you can show your knowledge to the rest of the world, too. There's a meeting."
"I'm sorry, sir, but I really can't --"
"In twenty minutes."
"What?"
"I need you to take it."
My jaws snapped open. "Mr. McGarry, I really can't do that! I have a pile of work waiting for me, and it's not a small pile and -- And -- You didn't give me any time to prepare!"
"You're prepared. You know everything there is to know. Plus I have some papers here for you." Just then I noticed the thick pile of files he was carrying. Oh, no…. no, no, no… "They have all the figures you'd need and Toby's there with you. You both have such a passion for this subject, I know you'll do great."
"I --"
"I know you're busy, but this is important." He laid the files on the desk before me and smiled at me. "Toby's waiting for you in his office. Go, break a leg."
"But --"
I barely managed to get the word out of my mouth but he was already out of the door and climbing up the stairs. Soon he disappeared from my sight.
"But…" I stammered to the empty room.
OK, what the hell just happen?
I crashed my forehead against the top of the desk. It hurt, but who cares. That didn't just happen. Leo didn't just do what he did. Oh, please, somebody please tell me that that didn't just happen! I raised my forehead two inches from the cool surface of the desk and crashed it back again. And again. It wouldn't shake the fact that Leo, just did what I thought he did. I hate him. I hate this office. I hate my job and everything in this freaking place!
I straightened up.
No. I don't hate them. I don't hate any one of them. I don't hate this place and all the people working in it. I just… Have to breathe, slowly, In and out. In with the good, out with the bad. In with the good… And -- out with the bad. I don't hate Leo, this office or my job. Just have to breathe and calm down and…
Read those damned files.
So, let's get this in order: I have twenty minutes. It takes about five minutes to walk upstairs and to Toby's office. Fifteen left. Then I need to have a little talk with Toby to clear out how exactly we're going to play this. So, I have ten minutes to browse through those files and pick up all the things that are important. Impossible.
I grabbed the first file from the pile of three. No, it's not impossible, just very… very… difficult.
Seven minutes later I was back at the point where I'm hitting my head against the top of the desk. How the hell did he think that I could manage this? Is he crazy? I can't gather enough fresh information and facts in ten minutes! I glanced at the clock and sighed. There's no time left to gather my thoughts anymore, anyway. Leo said that the things I need are in those files, hopefully easy to find. I fetched my briefcase from the chair on the other side of the room and started stuffing the files in it.
I heard a knock from the door. I glanced that way and saw Sam peeking in. "You're busy?" he asked.
I glanced around the table full of papers and at the files I'd been gathering in my hands, and sighed. "Yes. Very. I'm actually on my way out. Is there something you needed?"
He leant his shoulder against the frame of the door. "Oh." Somehow, he managed to make the same kind of expression that a five-year-old does when his father says that they can't go to the zoo after all. I don't think he even realized what he looked like.
Oh for… I rolled my eyes. "Come on, spill it. What's going on?"
"Um… Nothing?"
I arched an eyebrow at him. "You look like a lost puppy. Is there something you want to talk about?"
He didn't say anything for awhile, just watched me gathering my things into my briefcase. Then he sighed. "My stream has dried out," he finally moaned.
I stopped to stare at him. "Your what?"
"My stream. Of imagination and the art of writing. It has dried out. My river of words has been dammed up. The music on the tip of my pen has stopped playing. My muse has stopped singing."
"And you thought of me? How sweet."
"Well… Yeah. No. That's not really my point. My --"
"Yeah, yeah, your pen has dried out, or something, I get it. Enough with the fancy expressions." I clicked the briefcase shut and headed to the door. "So you -- walk with me -- so you decided to come here to see if your lost imagination has crawled here to hide?"
As I pushed by him and started walking towards the stairs, he straightened up and accompanied me. He steadied his steps with mine before answering. "Well, not exactly. Mostly I was bored."
"I'm flattered."
"See, I couldn't come up with anything by sitting at my desk, so I started walking around."
"And?"
He sighed. "I think I did something stupid." I waited him to go on. We continued climbing up the stairs in a sudden silence. I could almost hear the little pieces in his head clicking together as he dwelled in his own thoughts. Finally he opened his mouth: "You think I should just shut up and mind my own business?"
I glanced at him. "Generally or on something specific?"
"Well…" His voice trailed off. "The balance is delicate."
"What balance?"
"Between… things. Um… Never mind." We'd just come to the end of the last stairs and were now in the hallway when he glanced around knitting his brow. "Where are we going anyway?"
"I don't know about you but I'm going into a meeting. What are you talking about, Sam? Is there something wrong?"
"What?" He looked at me with his eyes full of wonder. Then he realized. "Oh. No. Nothing important. How do you feel about public education?"
"The exact opposite of how you feel about it."
"Seriously, Ainsley."
"I've heard enough about public education for one day, thank you very much. Enough for one lifetime, actually. Please, don't make me think about it right now."
"My stream has dried out!"
"That is not my fault, Sam."
He sighed. "I know." He didn't say anything for a second as we squeezed by a group of people blocking the hallway. Where the corridor opened into a somewhat large hall that was the ending point of a bunch of other corridors and stairs, he suddenly stopped. I realized it only after walking almost half way across the hall. I turned back and took a couple of steps back to stand in front of him and gave him a wondering look. "You think that my writing's started to suck nowadays?" he asked, knitting his brow.
Laughter escaped from my mouth. "Sam, what sudden outburst of uncertainty is this?"
"No, I'm seriously starting to wonder if I've lost my touch."
"Well, by the way your mouth goes on and on I wouldn't think you're suddenly suffering from the lack of verbal skills."
"I don't like Friday's."
"I think you already mentioned that," I remarked and started to turn away again. "Look, I have to go, so if there's something you have…"
"Public education," he interrupted. "What do you think about it?"
I guess he's getting desperate if he's willing to ask for my opinion. "Is it enough if I say that you're doing it all wrong?"
"Ainsley…"
I sighed. "Poverty is your problem."
"Don't you think we know that?"
"It doesn't seem like that to me."
"Says a girl who thinks it's OK for a father of three kids to have a gun in his house for no particular reason."
"Well, some people just like guns."
"Yes, and Adolf Hitler just liked killing people."
"Are you comparing republicans to Adolf Hitler? Cause if you are --"
"No, I'm just saying it's a lousy excuse."
"Sam, people like guns, they like owning them, read the statistics!"
"They're --"
"They like them, they feel protected owning them, it is their constitutional right to bear arms and protect themselves! That is the publics opinion and that is the law, and since this is a democratic nation..."
"Protected from what?"
The blunt interruption of my speech took me by surprise. I blinked my eyes. "Excuse me?"
"Protected from what? Guns?"
"Them too, yes."
He gave me a weird look. "So you are saying that people are buying guns because their neighbor owns one and they want to feel safe. So they buy a gun and their neighbor buys one too because now they feel like they have to be protected from the gun that was bought next door to them. You are saying that people are buying guns to protect themselves from guns, aren't you?"
"Yes, in a matter of fact I am."
He chuckled with this not so humored tone and shook his head. "Fire with fire..."
"Excuse me?"
Somehow I'd lost completely his line of thought. That isn't unusual when you're talking to Sam Seaborn, but now I was really out of it. I don't even know how we end up in this subject in the first place. He lifted his gaze to meet mine. "Fire with fire. You're fighting fire with fire."
Oh. Here we go again. "People..." I started.
I jumped back mentally when he suddenly yelped: "Oh, screw the people! If they'd pull their heads from the bushes and stop to think for one second they'd see that they're running towards a wall!"
"We all have been running towards a wall since the beginning of human kind! How --"
"They're guns, Ainsley, not bloody toys! They're designed to do people harm, to be an artifact of war! They were designed to put a hard cold bullet through your head and kill you! They weren't designed to be toys or a hobby or something pretty to look at on the shelf! They weren't designed to be liked, they were designed to, in all immoral, cold-blooded and -hearted ways, kill!"
I blinked taken aback by his sudden outburst. Wow. Where did that come from? From the side of my eye I saw a couple of people staring at us with their eyes as round as saucers. I guess they thought that he was going to jump on at me, bite my head off and declare victory roaring and dancing on it. A real Braveheart. I sighed and rubbed my eyes. For a second after his explosion, if you like to call it that, which it kind of was, I didn't say anything, just looked at him patiently. "Sam..." I started slowly, as patiently as I possibly could. I don't like people yelling at me for no reason, but that doesn't mean that I should yell back at them. "People are allowed to own kitchen knifes, hammers, chain saws, all kinds of sharp-edged weapons that could as easily kill a person as a gun, and yet still we're selling them in super-markets and gas stations, same places where we sell toys for kids, everywhere. No one's talking about five days waiting periods or asking ID's when you buy them. I know a gun isn't exactly the same thing as a knife, it's good that the backgrounds get checked and all, I support safety precautions, but if someone wants to kill someone, he, or she, will. Besides, you can't possibly get all the guns out of the streets by just snapping your fingers. If you make them illegal there's still someone making a fortune making and selling them, illegal or not. It's a dirty business, I know, but once we've put them on the streets, we can't just take them back and say 'sorry, folks, we changed our minds'. Unless you've found a way to change the world from the beginning of history then there's no use shouting at me about it."
He sighed after a while of silence. I've never seen anyone look as embarrassed as he was at the moment. I know I'm right. Not just about the shouting, but about the gun control too. We all now how I feel about these things, how we both feel about these things, so there's really no use fighting about it. It's no use. These battles should be fought in the Senate or the Court of Law or someplace like that, higher, not on the hallway. But since their battles are as good as ours, we get no results.
"Was I shouting?" he asked carefully. I nodded with a tiny smile. "Sorry. Maybe we shouldn't get into these things when there's days like this... well, actually, maybe we just shouldn't get into these things at all." I smiled understandingly. I knew what he meant. We always end up fighting about these things, both of us certain that he/she is right and the other one is wrong, and yet still we can never solve these things, because it's not our battle to fight. Even though that I'm obviously verbally the more talented one of us. I have to be; I've never lost an argument to him.
"You know, if I'd have the time to argue with you about this, I'd beat the crap out of you."
He grinned his gorgeous white smile. "Yes, I bet you would."
"If that speech of yours would've been about public education then we'd be on the safe side," I remarked smiling. I nodded towards the papers in my hands. "Well, as fun as it's been, I gotta go."
"Yeah." He left standing there with his hands in his pockets and a confused look on his face, totally lost in his own thoughts. I get that a lot from him, that look I mean. I could've told him that he'd finally snapped but by the look on his face I could tell that he'd figured it out by himself already.
***
FEDC. You'll love it, he'd said. You'll do great, he'd said. You know everything there is to know, he'd said.
The 'break a leg' part was the only part he had been even nearly right about.
When I'd gotten to Toby's office, he'd explained why exactly it was so necessary for me to be there. Parties. Leo thought it would make a great impression if members of two different parties sat behind the same side of the desk and jumped on Michael Hathaway and his staff.
Great impression up my…
He's wiping the floor with us. Toby's mind is God-knows-where and when it isn't, he's losing his temper and that is not good. Not good at all. It only shows our impatience and weakness. And he's weak today.
Not that I'm any better. The five minutes I had time to study the files that Leo gave me was as good as nothing. I can't believe he just threw me in here. Every time I make a point that sounds very convincing and reasonable, Hathaway or one of the others throws it back at my face with something taken from the resent studies and statistics that I had no time to go through. And every time that happens, Toby gives me an evil eye.
There are zillion things going on in my head and none of them is FEDC. The conversation I just had an hour ago in the hallway with Sam bothers me. I know it shouldn't because this is just one of those crazy Fridays and that is all that it was about, but I still think about it. Why? Because I'm worried about him. People don't just burst like that for no good reason. I didn't think about it then, but now it bothers me. Though I'm sure it was nothing.
But the most disturbing thing going on in my head, even though how much I think that Sam's gone crazy, was a donut. And not just any donut. A big, fat, gorgeous donut that was sitting on a brown plate just ten inches from me. It seemed like ages since I'd last had something to eat, though I knew it was only a couple of hours in reality. And I know that this situation isn't exactly the greatest time to think about food, but the donut was so gorgeous and delicious-looking and seductive and, did I mention, gorgeous. It had this thick chocolate-icing and those colorful-what-you-call-them-things on top of it and I was so hungry, and every time I thought about it my stomach rumbled and when it rumbled I thought about the rumbling and then about the donut because I was so hungry. It's an endless cycle, I know, but the donut is just so drop dead gorgeous! I was just about to lift my hand and reach out for it when I heard someone calling my name.
My head jerked up as I realized that I had missed yet another piece of the conversation and I saw everyone's eyes on me.
Toby's glance at me was, if possible, even more devious than before. "Can I speak with you for a second, Ainsley?" he murmured with a calm voice that didn't actually sound that calm at all. "In the hallway, please."
"Um… Sure," I managed to get out of my mouth. I glanced at the donut, longingly, and then back at Toby. He rose from his chair and I followed him to the corridor.
He closed the door and pulled me away from the window that showed to the room.
"What the hell are you doing in there?" he hissed from between his teeth.
I really don't like his tone of voice. "What I'm doing?" I asked with annoyance. "How about what you're doing?" I mean, really, isn't he the most annoying person in that room? If he keeps on with his behavior…
"I'm trying to do my job and you're not helping very much with drool dripping from the side of your mouth!"
I think I blushed. I hadn't realized it had been so obvious. "I couldn't help it, I'm hungry."
"When are you not? You're like a bottomless bin! And as for the meeting -- Did you even read the information? You're talking total crap in there!"
"I'm not talking total crap, it's just a little old information. I got the files on this twenty minutes before the meeting, you should be damn grateful that I'm even here backing you up!" He grumbled something but I just ignored it. I took a step towards the door. "Come on, let's get back in there or they'll think that there's something wrong."
"There is something wrong: You!"
I glared at him. OK, now his grumpy-old-man-act is starting to get on my nerves. "I don't see you doing any better in there, Mr. Half-Out-Of-Twenty-Is-Two." I pushed the door open with a little more force than necessary. "Shall we?" I asked him with an arched eyebrow and as much sarcasm in my voice as I could possibly fit in there. Once again, he gave me an evil eye. I'm used to those by now, I'll survive.
As I started sitting down onto my chair I noticed something: The donut is gone. My precious, life-saving donut with chocolate icing and those little colorful things on top is gone.
I sank down into my chair. Judy Trent, one of Hathaway's staff, started rambling on about public's right to choose. Toby sighed, more like moaned, not even trying to hide his irritation, and I just wished I could sink even deeper into my chair because my precious donut is gone.
This meeting will never end.
***
"Hi."
I looked up from the computer screen. A smile rose on my face as I saw Donna's face lurking from the doorway. The FEDC meeting had gone longer than I could take, I'm behind in my work and there's no way I can manage to do them today, so when she walked in I got a perfectly good excuse for a little break. She's one of those people who instantly make me feel better. She returned my smile. "Am I disturbing you?"
"Well, yes, but --" Suddenly the pipes, once again, started rattling loudly. I pointed my thumb at them. "I get disturbed a lot anyway, so what the heck."
She laughed a bit and entered the room. She settled herself on my quest chair. "So, what's up, my girl?"
"'What's up'?"
"Says a girl who has an identity crisis and is desperately trying to cling on to the last shreds of her soon disappearing youth by trying to sound like a twelve-year-old."
" 'How's it hanging' would've done the same trick."
"I was afraid it would bring up the Freudian sides of you."
"And 'what's up' won't?"
"I didn't think that far," she shrugged.
"Well, thank you for asking, I'm doing fine, if you don't count the fact that I'm drowning under files. I'm beginning to feel like the official dumpster here." I sighed as I glanced at the pile of papers that seemed to have grown every time I looked at it. Donna flashed an apologizing smile at me. I finally put down my pen and leant back in my chair. "So what are you hiding from?"
Her eyebrows rose surprised. "Excuse me?"
"I've learnt that people come down here for two reasons: to hide from something or for work."
"What makes you think that I didn't come for the latter?"
"Who says 'what's up' when she wants to discuss work?"
"So you don't think that people could come here for just a lovely chat?"
"No."
She glanced at me and raised her eyebrow. I just shrugged. Hey, that's the way it goes. This is out of everyone's way; no one just 'accidentally' wanders here. Not even the President.
She sighed. "OK, OK. It's Josh. And Sam. They're both equally annoying." She saw my puzzled look, though I know why Sam could be annoying, and explained: " Josh keeps avoiding the subject that he's going to Richmond tonight. He doesn't know that Sam already told me about it, and I'm not going to say anything if he's too chicken-shit to just say it."
I laughed. Typical. "What did Sam do, then?"
She waved her hand in the air belittling. "Oh, nothing. He just thinks that I would be upset about it. I don't know where he gets those ideas of his. Apparently he thinks that my entire life circles around Josh. He should get a job as his ego."
"Guys."
"They're all jerks."
"Yes, they are."
"They think that the biggest complement a girl can have is 'your hair looks nice today'."
"Or 'your cooking tastes as good as my mother's'."
"Or 'I saw this coffee-maker and instantly thought of you'."
My eyes widened. "Seriously? Somebody actually said that to you?"
"Yeah."
"Wow. That is bad."
"I know."
"That couldn't have lasted long."
"Well, it didn't. We broke up a month after that. I kept the coffee-maker, though," she admitted. With a little one-sided smile and a shrug she got on her feet again, sighing tiredly. "I think I have to get back now. Thanks for the break. I needed it."
"Same here." As she turned to leave I started to think. "Hey -- Josh, he's your boss."
She barked a silent laughter. "Yes, he is. What about it?"
"Why didn't he talk to you about it, then? Did he think that you'd just show up tomorrow morning and notice that he's not here?"
I think I just said something stupid. Or, if not stupid, then revealing. The look on her face changed as if she'd suddenly realized something utterly confusing and strange. "I gotta go," she said knitting her brow like there were million things just going on in her head.
"What?"
She glanced at me as if she'd just realized that I was still there. "I -- I'm sorry, I just remembered something I have to do. I'll see you later."
She turned around and practically ran out of the room. I'm starting to feel like that's the only way to leave my office nowadays.
I just shook my head and returned to my work. I won't even try to understand…
***
"Grrrrrrrroooouuuuuuuughhhhhh!" echoed in the silence, filling the room that was only disturbed by the quiet humming of my laptop.
I pressed my hand against my stomach to stop its groaning. It didn't help much. I've barely eaten anything today. The last meal I had was the apple and those two sandwiches I bought from the mess nearly six hours ago. Though I haven't had much time to think about eating anyway. During the day I've gone through half of the education plan and six of those ten files that somebody dumped on my desk and there's still more to come. I just can't finish this off today. It's not humanly possible. And now eating was the only thing in my mind.
I tried to brush it aside and continue working, but the rumbling became louder and louder..
Yet another groan interrupted my line of thought as I was halfway through reading the seventh add of the third section of the act. I forgot what I was just reading, and when I finally found the place and noticed that I've read three pages with my mind completely out of focus, just reading without actually understanding a word, I gave in.
I need food.
I arched up from my chair and five minutes later I was back in the mess again. They were just about to close up as soon as the last people sitting in the tables left. The young guy behind the counter smiled a bit uncertainly at me. I hadn't seen him before so I figured that he was new, a trainee. I smiled back at him and he blushed. I thought it was cute.
Then I noticed something under the cover. A donut. A gorgeous, chocolate iced, big, fat donut. A huge grin rose on my face that made the canteen guy give me a weird look. It was a donut as beautiful as the one I'd seen before in the FEDC meeting. My day was saved. I bought it without hesitation, and a cup of coffee to go with it. The boy just smiled at me shyly and poured the coffee into a paper cup that has one of those tops on it.
All the way down I kept glancing at my donut, now wrapped slightly in a napkin, just to see if it was still there and if it still looked as delicious. I swear, if I'd now how to whistle properly, I would've done so. My day is definitely saved. Never mind the FEDC meeting that went really poorly, never mind piles of work that I have to do when I get back into my office. I think I just found a lifesaver: a donut. That's all I need.
I almost flew the rest of the way down to the basement floor and to my office. No one else was around anymore, they'd all gone to their last meeting of the day or home or some other thing upstairs, and I was there all by myself, but I didn't care. I have my donut and my donut and I are very happy together.
Just as I was stepping through the doorway that led to my office, something blinded my vision. Something dark and taller than me and very steady. I didn't see it before I literally walked into it. My nose hit a solid surface that I managed to recognize as a chest, more specifically, Sam's chest. "Ow!" I yelped as I tried to keep my balance. His hands wrapped around my waist to stop us from stumbling.
As I raised my eyes from his chest I noticed that my nose hadn't been the only thing that'd hit him.
The coffee cup's top had fallen off and there was a large brown stain on his right sleeve, but most importantly, there was the donut. I was still pressing it flat against his chest, with the chocolate iced side against his shirt. My jaw snapped open. Slowly I released it from my grasp, but it wouldn't drop off.
The donut clutched at his shirt as if it was screaming for help and desperately trying to cling on to its last shreds of hope, fighting with its teeth and nails against the gravity. It slowly begun to slide down his shirt, leaving a long chocolate stain behind it, until finally it accepted its destiny and let go. It fell on the floor with a dreadful 'muish' sound echoing in the silence.
The look on his face was priceless.
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Next part:
Seven Deadly Sins - Greed
"What the hell is going on around there?" Jed Bartlet's voice was, strangely, controlling the room, the space, from the other end of the phone line even without his actual presence. That's eccentric if something is.
"Mr. President..."
"Leo, CJ is blurting stupid things in the briefing, Danny's secret resource is Toby... What else? Don't tell me that Donna has ordered a living cow to the lunch tomorrow. Is there something else you're not telling me that I have to read about from tomorrow's newspaper, Leo?"