TITLE: The Banter Scale
AUTHOR: Micky Fine
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Am in therapy because they never will be sob.
SUMMARY: "I realized that I could rate how worthy pursuing a relationship would be based on the banter scale." J/D J POV
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Josh popped into my head last night and refused to go away until I wrote this down. Just a little piece of fluff that should probably go before "Gaza" and "Memorial Day" but otherwise has no real placement in time. As for reviews, I always love them.

I have decided that love is defined by banter.

You may ask how exactly I came to this conclusion and I do plan to expand on that statement, but I first must explain the banter scale.

 
Banter, as you may have noticed, is one of the staples of my life along with red meat and french fries. I have always found it enjoyable and often revealing. I don't consider someone a good friend until we have some sort of banter pattern that we can follow in a conversation. Example, Sam and I can banter and have been best friends forever. It's a simple idea and it works.

Now, one day while pondering the glories of banter I realized that I could rate how worthy pursuing a relationship would be based on the banter scale. I then had to design the banter scale a simple task for someone with my mental prowess. The banter scale is a simple 1-10 scale that takes into consideration the rhythm of banter, the ability to keep up with my own verbal skills, the variety in topics of banter, and the ability to walk while bantering. After giving someone a score on the banter scale, anything over five is deserving of a pursuit for a relationship.

 
You ask for examples? I'll give you three.

 
First, Mandy. Not a happy woman, very few banter sessions and much more yelling.  She received a 1 out of 10. Thus, the failure of our relationship.

 
Second, Joey. A nice woman, good sense of humor, but banter is severely bogged down by the fact that I must always talk to her interpreter, who signs to her, then she signs to him and he talks to me. Puts a real damper on the rhythm. She received a 5 out of 10.

 
Finally, Amy. Plenty of potential with all the bantering. However, water balloon throwing, calling me J (ugh!), getting mad at me for no reason and insulting Donna were definite points against her. She received an 8 out of 10. Probably the reason our relationship lasted longer than it should have.

 
Now that you have a grasp of the mechanics of the banter scale I must now explain the statement that love is defined by banter.

I had this epiphany while bantering with Donna (who else?). We were talking about kumquat farmers, I think, while she walked me to a meeting. As she walked through the door I held open for her and still managed to insult my intelligence I had so great a realization that I stopped walking. And talking. In mid-sentence. Donna turned back to ask me if I was ok, but I ignored her because I had made the biggest discovery of my entire life. Donna would receive the biggest score on the banter scale EVER. No one would ever be able to surpass her. Her score on the banter scale would make my 760-verbal look puny (don't tell her I said that). And this led to the epiphany that love is defined by banter.

 
Still lost? You might be, seeing as I didn't really explain the fact that I am in love with Donnatella Moss. I can hear you gasping in shock, and I know that your thinking it's impossible that Joshua Lyman, the most emotionally repressed man in Washington D.C. has admitted his love for his assistant. It's mind boggling I know.

 
The truth is, I've consciously known that I was in love with my assistant since the year she spent Christmas with Jack I'm-in-the-navy-and-thus-too-cool-to-take-responsibility-for-my-own-actions Reese. It then took me until after Zoey was returned and Amy and I had done another stupid thing until I could admit out loud that I was in love with Donna.
It happened while I was eating ice cream (Donna has rubbed off on me) and watching CNN, yelling at the newscaster as always. Then they had a little special blurb on the hardest working, but least thanked staff in the White House. And of course, Donna received special mention. After several disparaging comments about her boss (I objected to them loudly) they praised Donna for all her wonderful contributions to the stuff we do and instead of arguing with the TV, I yelled, "I love you, Donnatella Moss." And consequently went into shock. I spent 15 minutes repeating that statement quietly to myself until I realized I meant it and then shouted, "I love Donnatella Moss."
Ever since that moment my neighbor gives me strange looks every time she sees me.
And thus, due to my love for the amazing Donnatella and her stupendous banter scale this has led to the official definition of love to be banter.