Sam knows that it's late but he's of reasonably sound mind and body and thinks that he couldn't possibly have lost Ainsley. She'd been there approximately two seconds ago, dancing like nobody was watching in her White House issued bathrobe and as soon as he'd gone to introduce the president, everything had changed.

Sam had gone back through the door just to make sure he did not actually lose the captive audience of one Jed Bartlet and one Ainsley Hayes and instead of Ainsley's basement office, the room he finds himself in is actually what appears to be...well, he doesn't know what the hell it is.

He's always worked long hours and late hours and maybe he's just tired. Maybe that's why he hears Ainsley around the corner and follows the sound of her voice to find her in a sweatshirt and jeans and not in her bathrobe where he had most assuredly left her not moments ago and it's just...not right. It doesn't match up.

"Ainsley? What's going on, exactly?" Sam frowns a little and rubs at the bridge of his nose, wanting his glasses, but it seems he isn't wearing them. He reaches in his shirt pocket, extracts the glasses, and puts them on his face.

It doesn't seem to clear this picture up any at all.