XX
"Leo."
"Mr. Vice President." He rose from his seat to give a polite nod. More his own preference for formality than for Hoynes' sake - the Vice President might be very status conscious in public, but that had more to do with politicking than personal vanity. In private, he was blunt or informal as the situation demanded it.
At the moment, he was both. Relations had been closer between the president and his second of late, but this wholly dumb scandal of his had strained things, and Hoynes knew it.
"How's the president doing?"
"He's better." It was nice to be able to say that and mean it. Jed's health had been precarious of late, but ever since he'd shaken off that winter cold he'd been steadily improving. Hell, maybe it was down to Abbey's idea to get him a kitten. It certainly made for a more pleasant distraction than most of the things he had to deal with.
"I hear Toby Ziegler wants to go on the offensive on guns," Hoynes observed with cool wariness.
"And he will. But not yet." Gun control was one of the main areas where their Vice President was publicly known to be on the opposite side of the fence, and if it became a major policy issue right now when the pressure was still on to have him step down, things were going to get even messier.
"How many people out there are pushing for my resignation right now?" Hoynes wondered casually.
"We lost count when the intern we put on that had to take a bathroom break." He didn't bother to keep the sharp edge out of that. They might be defending Hoynes, but that did not mean they were happy with him right now.
"A lot of people would wonder why you don't listen to them." It was not quite a question, but it still carried an implicit request for a response.
Leo gave a very slight shrug. "That's because a lot of people are dumb enough to conflate 'best' with 'least controversial'. You're still in the game, John. You screwed up, and you screwed up messy, but messy we can fix."
He raised a wry eyebrow. "You think?"
"If the election was tomorrow, you'd lose it." He shrugged. "The election's not tomorrow. In three years time, you're gonna be glad that this happened three years ago."
"You're assuming that I'm going to run," he noted neutrally.
Leo shrugged again, this time a little more pointedly. "My tenure's up the same time yours is." He might have a certain personal loyalty to the Vice President and a political one to the party, but he was Jed Bartlet's man before both of those. "If you run, we'll back you. If you don't, we'll find somebody else."
Hoynes was nobody's dream candidate for the next election, although he was head and shoulders above the current crop of contenders looking to get in on the action. The party had their objections to him staying, and they weren't entirely wrong - but Leo's priorities were not the party's. They were already focused on refilling Jed Bartlet's seat in three years time; Leo was more concerned with what happened while he was still in it. A Vice President that Jed trusted to take the reins if anything went wrong was worth ten that would meekly do whatever they were told and not cause trouble.
Hoynes nodded slowly to himself, apparently satisfied with this answer. "Has the president got a moment?" he asked, standing up.
"Yeah, but probably only that. He'll be in the Roosevelt Room; he's been doing a couple of last minute runthroughs."
The Vice President narrowed his eyes. "Cutting it a little fine, isn't he?"
"Toby and Sam were rewriting a couple of chunks of it about five hours ago," Leo revealed, grimacing. Not that he didn't have faith in Jed's ability to deal with new material, but Lord, if he got the versions mixed up-
Hoynes's eyebrows shot up. "Did somebody let them have sugar after midnight again?"
"He felt it needed more punch." As usual, he didn't need to specify the identity of 'he'.
"Who's he intending to punch?"
"That remains to be seen." They were going to be skirting close to the edge tonight, he knew, but Leo still couldn't quite suppress a glow of satisfaction. There was something to be said for playing it safe... but some days, there was even more to be said for taking real a swing at it no matter what the chances of falling on your face.
It might go stunning well tonight. It might go horribly wrong. But either way, the real Jed Bartlet was going to show up... and he was looking forward to seeing it.
"Hey."
"Hi." Josh gave her the hazy-eyed vague smile that meant he'd been miles away, and was still on his way back. Donna entered the office and crossed over to join him.
"Coming?"
"In a minute." He fiddled with his bowtie, and she took over by unspoken agreement. They went about the familiar ritual in silence, although not an uncomfortable one. She leaned back to regard him, and straightened his collar as an afterthought. He smirked, but didn't bother to tease her.
"The president's got the new speech down?" he asked her, as they started walking.
"Seems to have. Sam's crawling up the walls."
"Mm." He nodded absently, and she glanced sideways at him.
"Josh-"
"I'm fine," he answered automatically. The lack of defensiveness more or less confirmed it, but she gave him a closer inspection anyway.
"This Lubbock County thing-"
"It's fine, Donna. Really." The smile he gave her was melancholy, but genuine enough. She returned it, and briefly linked her arm through his as they walked.
"You think this is going to be a better year for us?" he asked her.
She shrugged. "I don't know. But I'm gonna be optimistic anyway."
The expression broadened into a full-on grin. "Yeah," he agreed. "Let's do that."
They walked on.
Well accustomed by now to doing at least two things at once, Charlie went about his usual duties while talking over his shoulder to Ash.
"-You won't have to make coffee or anything like that, he has people to do that sort of thing. He has people to do all kinds of stuff, but we try to limit the number of people going in and out where we can. So you're gonna end up getting handed lots of things to take in by other people who stop at the door." He paused to quickly sign a piece of paperwork and move it to another tray.
"You always knock before entering the room. If he's alone in the office, it's okay to knock and go in without waiting for a response; if he's in with anybody apart from senior staff, you don't go in until he calls you. If he's alone in the Residence, knock at least two or three times to make sure he heard you, but go in after that 'cause he might be asleep. If he's in with the First Lady, knock loudly, and then run down the hall and hide behind the biggest Secret Service guy you can find."
Ash grinned at that. "Okay."
Charlie left him to find out the level of truth behind that 'joke' for himself. The president was a fairly forgiving employer most of the time, but in some areas he was more than willing to call an all out nuclear strike on the messenger.
Which reminded him. "If you have to give him a wake-up call in the morning, don't take his word for it. Call at ten minute intervals until he's actually standing in front of you. Don't, under any circumstances, allow him to talk you into letting him have a lie-in. He'll just go straight back to sleep and deny all knowledge of the previous conversation. Also, don't worry if he tells you you're fired. He fires everybody at that time in the morning."
Ash followed him as he went over to retrieve some files from Nancy.
"You usually don't need to worry too much about his moods," Charlie continued. "If he yells, he's mad, but it'll blow over quickly. If he gets angry quietly, stay out of his way." The president frequently raged at people to let off steam, but when he was truly, earth-shatteringly furious, he went dead silent and icy cold. "When he's in a good mood, you're not gonna be so lucky. Be prepared for trivia questions, bad jokes, and singing. The Elvis songs and greatest hits of the 1950s may seem scary at first, but they're to be encouraged. If you challenge him about his choice of music he switches to opera, and that's not fun for anybody."
"Maligning my father's musical abilities?"
He swung around to greet his wife just as the straight face employed for this indignant statement shattered into giggles. "Hi, Charlie." She flung her arms around his shoulders.
"Hey, Zoey." He gave her a kiss. She was visibly pregnant by now, a look that to his mind rather suited her, although it caused the president to glare at him even more than usual when they were together. It was getting a little easier to actually believe there was a baby in there, although despite Zoey's assertions that the little guy was doing the Macarena in there he'd yet to feel a kick. "You look good."
"I look like a beach ball in a prom dress, but thanks." She turned to Ash, and gave him a glowing smile. "You must be Ashley Bowers."
"Pleased to meet you, ma'am," he smiled back. Zoey rolled her eyes theatrically.
"Oh, Lord, another one. No calling the First Daughters 'ma'am'," she chided.
"Sorry-" Ash began, and cut off somewhat awkwardly without any way to end it.
"Zoey. Zo-ey," she articulated, grinning to take any sting out of the teasing. "We managed to teach Charlie to say it, so it can't be that hard."
"Sorry. Zoey," he repeated, practically blushing. He tugged at his collar nervously. "This is all a little... overwhelming," he admitted.
"I'm getting him acquainted with the ins and outs of the job before he starts next week," Charlie elaborated.
"Like dad harassing people with Puccini arias?"
"Exactly." Charlie remembered his own awe when he first started working in the White House - an awe that had, just as Josh had told him, never truly gone away - and started to smile. "Actually," he said to Ash, "there is one little thing that you could have a go at right now..."