He's about ready to pull out his own hair. Maybe push her out of the moving car, though he thinks the two men in the front seat would have a problem with that. He thinks the best solution may be to take the Craig problem into his own hands, better yet maybe he'd start taking advantage of Mike B.
He has his elbow leaned up against the side of the door, head resting in his hand. He was finding peace in the quiet of the moment, but— "God," She groans.
His lips part and he lets out a sigh— here she goes again.
"He comes in here and acts like he owns the freaking White House," she rants. "The White House," she emphasizes. "Not to mention the president."
His eyes wander over to her side of the backseat.
"You should have seen him in the Oval this morning."
Her hands are wild, fitfully motioning around. It gives way to the obvious strong emotions she felt towards the man. And blonde curls bounce as she shakes her head. Her eyes are squinted that one way they do when she's working things out, either verbally or in her head.
"If only you'd known him when I was at CIA," she says.
He wishes he didn't know him now.
"He didn't understand my Baghdad Station report," She huffs. "He hated the idea of scaling back enhanced interrogation tactics." Her stare turns to him. "It was the right thing to do," She tells him. "It was ineffective."
His eyebrows raise. "Are you trying to convince me because trust me you don't need to?"
She looks like she trips up on her words. "No," she mumbles.
When they turn the corner, he straightens up in his seat.
"And before that, he would—"
He doesn't usually tune her out, but he felt it was needed for his sanity.
"Craig Sterling is an asshole."
And he rolls his eyes. She sounds like she's hung up on an ex-boyfriend. Can't stand his every move. Though he doesn't disagree with her disliking.
She's rambling again. "He needs a— What are we doing?" She asks as they pull to the curb.
He reaches over and unbuckles his seat belt before leaning over and undoing hers. "Walking," he tells her.
"But—"
He holds up a hand. "Henry's here."
He can see when her face brightens up just the slightest bit.
~MS~
He alternates between walking a few paces ahead and behind. He'd checked his inbox while tailing them alongside Joe, but now, as he walked in front with Frank, he was silently taking in the sights of the park.
"You've been suggesting these walks almost as much as she's been pushing for them."
His head turns to the left.
"She needs them," he tells Frank. "Ineed them," he admits.
He laughs.
"She really dislikes that guy, huh?"
His lips turn up. "A little too much I think, but you didn't hear that from me."
He expects another laugh, but Frank raises his right hand to his ear. His finger pushes into the mic before he turns back and takes a few steps towards the couple.
He does the same. And as he watches them as they were stopped in the middle of the path, her back to him, he can see a flicker of pain on Henry's face. God, he hoped this wouldn't backfire. This walk was meant to help, not worsen.
And it seems to be an already settled issue when he gets the call from Nadine.
He approaches, phone still in hand. And he looks to her. "Sorry to interrupt. Uh, the families have been secured and are being taken to Bagram Airfield. And you're needed in the Sit Room."
He feels a bit terrible bringing her to Henry, only to take her away. He can see the disappointment on her face.
"Thank you," she mumbles.
He gives Henry a sad smile before giving them a moment alone.
"I need a vacation," she tells him when she joins him a bit further up the path.
Another eye roll feels appropriate. "Every time I try to plan one you refuse."
"That was one time."
"I can count five," he says. "I think you just like to complain."
His right hand falls to her back, and he ushers her to the car.
"Henry will agree with you there."
~MS~
Men and woman come and go from the Sit Room, but it's hours before the top brass pile out, and from the grim expressions he could bet money on how it had played out. She's one of the last ones out the door.
He can't help but eye Craig as he passes. And when he sees her finally walking down the hall, he pushes up from his chair.
"Ma'am?"
She looks drained.
He can see her throat bobble as she swallows. "I made myself watch until the feed cut out," she whispers. "We let them die. The least I could do was watch."
He hadn't seen her this haunted in months.
"You—" He can't even come up with the words to respond.
Her hand brushes against his arm as she passes him. "I need to find Sterling."
He follows her from a distance, and although he thinks it would be best for her to take a breath and think through whatever it was, she was planning to say — not good from her attitude in the car— he lets her be. The guy, from his interactions with him thus far, had it coming.
From what he hears he can tell he fires her up. She taunts him in return, and he thinks this will make for one big disaster of an argument that blows up in all of their faces in the future. But for now, he lets her poke where she shouldn't. Maybe it would release some of that pent up anger she'd obviously been bottling up.
This time the car ride is silent, and it's strange, but he prefers to listen to her complaints about Craig than the quiet.
He eyes her as she stares out the window, watching as the buildings pass. And he can't help but worry over the look in her eyes earlier, or the way she'd apparently forced herself to watch the live stream. He texts Henry, giving him the heads up that tonight may not be a good night.