theirlawyer | Surely To Their Credit

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Surely To Their Credit

The trouble with arguing with Sam isn't that it's annoying or exasperating. He's frustrating because he's a Democrat with several misinformed beliefs, but that's not really the problem with arguing with him. As Ainsley helps to balance coffee cups on the tray as they take the stairs, her ponytail swinging behind her, she knows the real problem.

She likes it.

She likes arguing with Sam to the point that if he looks like he's in a good mood, she's tempted to bring up the ideal size of government just to see him start ranting. If she can get him to take off his reading glasses to make one of his points, all the better. Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she turns to back her way up the last door, opening her mouth to goad him on a little more, not really thinking beyond the repartee she's sure to get (that makes her feel alive, that makes her heart beat a little quicker, that makes her skin flush).

"You know," she begins, "at this rate, you'll be switching parties faster than I can say Abraham Lincoln was one of...ours..."

She trails off because Sam's not following her anymore, but that's not the problem. The problem is that it looks like the White House managed to get a new decorator in the time it'd taken them to go downstairs to the cafeteria for some coffee. Gingerly, Ainsley steps forward, the tray of sugars and creams still in her hands.

"...Sam?" she calls out around the next corner, trying not to let herself believe this is all the beginning of a horror movie. She's fine. She's in the White House, she's fine, and she sees and hears stranger things in the Steampipe Distribution Venue every single day.

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"It's really all right," Sam promises. "You haven't done anything that the rest of us haven't. I slept with a prostitute, after all."

He colors a little. "On accident. I wasn't aware of her profession at the time of the...indiscretion."

"I know, I wrote columns about it," Ainsley replies flippantly, given that she'd written at least two about Sam's dalliance with a call girl, back when she hadn't known him and the topic had been too rife to ignore. "Did you sleep with her after you found out?"

"No. Which is a shame. She was actually about to graduate law school and really quite an engaging woman. It's just...obviously I couldn't pursue a relationship with her. She'll be a fine attorney someday, I think."

Sam isn't shy about admitting that. When he believes in someone, he talks them up to any and everyone and he's always believed in Laurie's intelligence and talent.

Ainsley vaguely remembers the bit where she was pursuing a law degree, but she holds back the comment about wanting to know whether Sam has a type or whether he's only interested in lawyers who are also call girls. "You know, if my job started to interfere with who I could and couldn't see, I think I'd go crazy," she admits. "Luckily for me, no one cares what the Republican lawyer in the steampipe distribution venue is doing in her spare time, so no one's haunting me with a camera."

"Yet. If you make a name for yourself, you'll have cameras in your face too," Sam says. He doesn't have quite the following that Josh does but there are some parties who are very, very interested in his day to day activities.

"I would much rather be anonymous, all told. I like to do what I do for service of my country, not for planning my next political moves."

"I find it amusing that you think with your good looks, you'd be anything but in the spotlight. I've written the columns, I know all about the lure," she guarantees, resting her chin on her hand. "Young, successful, handsome speechwriter? Sam, your articles practically write themselves. You could breathe a little differently and something would be picked up, even if it's only a sidenote."

"Are you suggesting you only wrote articles about me because I was handsome and successful?"

It's a cheap shot but it's not every day that something like that falls from Ainsley's mouth. She's usually much more careful with what she says, endearing quirks aside.

"I wrote articles about you because you were handsome, successful, and have incredibly poor judgment. People lap that up," she counters, her cheeks flushing slightly pink given that she's as good as confessed that she finds Sam attractive. It's the whole truth, so she isn't ashamed of it, but she'd much rather have led him on with doubt for a while.

"I like to believe in people, Ainsley. It's the liberal in me." It's a little more than a political ideology, to be sure, but it's much easier to couch his optimism in the trappings of a political allegiance than admit that he has always been a half glass full type person. He's never bought into Washington cynicism, even after all these years.

"I also like it when attractive women write articles about me."

Ainsley can't help her thrill, but she keeps it under wraps, making sure her lips don't quirk up too much to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much she appreciates the compliment. "Well, you're very lucky, then, because the fine women of journalism in Washington DC are a foxy bunch, in general," she says coyly, bouncing to her feet when there's a knock at the door.

She signs for the room service and pops a pastry past her lips before she can even roll the whole thing into Sam's room.

"Don't I know it," Sam says wryly. He is grateful for the distraction of the room service because it will keep him from doing something ridiculous like admitting just how attractive he thinks Ainsley Hayes is.

"Is the pastry assortment to your liking? I know you have discerning tastes when it comes to baked goods."

Ainsley presses her pinky to the corner of her mouth before she swallows back the powdered, sugary, delicious and perfect thing. She nods, already feeling better for having a little sugar in her system. "They're amazing," she insists, feeling like she might have to fight Sam for one of them if he doesn't stake his claim soon. "Score one for a strange alternate hotel."

Sam takes a pastry out of obligation more than actually wanting it. He's much more interested in the champagne and he downs two flutes of it before working his way through the beignet.

"I still have no idea how we're getting out of here. Currently, I plan to get drunk enough that it bothers me less."

Ainsley isn't sure she wants to repeat her performance of too many bubbly drinks, too quickly, and she eyes Sam over the donut as he drains the champagne as quickly as he does and then insists on getting drunk. "I'm not holding your hair back if you get sick," she says sweetly.

"I can hold my liquor, thank you." Sam hasn't had many occasions to check that, to be honest, because most of his drinking is done at victory parties and he makes it a rule not to get drunk at a work function.

"I wasn't aware North Carolina Republicans couldn't. Shouldn't you be able to out drink me and shoot a target?"

Ainsley gestures to herself and her petite frame. "Sam, look at me. I may be proud and I may be able to cope with many things, but liquor makes me sick and before that point, it makes me do extremely embarrassing things," is her point. "I really don't like what things feel like after roughly the third glass," she admits, gesturing to her stomach. "I will, of course, have one."

Sam frowns in concern. "Are you sure you should be doing that? I don't want you to feel sick or anything." He cares about Ainsley, more than he possibly should, and the idea that she might drink enough to make herself sick isn't an appealing one.

"Of course, it's perfectly all right if you choose to do so, you're an adult, and unlike you I will offer to hold your hair if needed. It's the gentleman's thing to do."

"Sam, when I drink too much I get sick, but I think I can handle one glass of champagne," she says, trying to cover up the softness in her voice that's genuinely amazed and pleased for how much Sam seems to care. "I'll stick with one glass of champagne and stick with the pastries, seeing as I doubt you'll be dipping into those too much, what with that figure of yours," she teases.

"Never had much of a sweet tooth," Sam admits. It's never been his vice. He's never been the sort to really have any vices but never anything like sweets. It's Ainsley's vice though and he thinks it's adorable.

"Not that it seems to uh, have affected your figure."

Ainsley can't help a cock of her hip and a smug smile as she pops another piece of a muffin past her lips. "Why, Sam," she affects the Southern Belle voice that she likes to think gets him all ruffled up, like the way it does when she calls him the Master. "I think that means you've been looking at my figure."

"Well, no, not...in the aesthetic sense, not in a leering or untoward sense or anything of that nature," Sam says. Normally he's a lot more eloquent but Ainsley has flustered him and caught him admitting something he has tried to keep to himself.

He has always been somewhat attracted to Ainsley. She's just that combination of beautiful and smart that he's never been able to resist.

Ainsley can't help her smug little victorious smile. She's never minded gathering the attention of men because she thinks she's beautiful and she enjoys being teased because it makes her feel like she belongs. The important thing is that Sam's always treated her as an equal -- at least, after she trounced him on national television. Popping a pastry past her lips, she gives him a wink as she takes the champagne.

"Calm down, it's okay, you're not untoward or leering," she promises. "I just like messing with your head."

"I wouldn't want to offend you," Sam says, laughing lightly. He doesn't think that he and Ainsley have the sort of relationship where she would be uncomfortable with his advances but if she ever were, he also thinks Ainsley is more than capable of speaking up and demanding what would be a deserved apology.

"Actually, it's usually my intent to flatter you. Although, flattery is a loaded word, it usually means something empty and any compliment I paid you wouldn't be an empty one."

This is veering unsteadily towards the kind of territory that worries Ainsley, mainly because she's usually better about relationships amongst her coworkers and even though she knows that Sam would never be untoward, she also knows that she's not sure she should chance fate to this degree. Still, honesty seems the best policy. "I like when you flatter me," she says, trying not to sound too flushed and unnerved about it. "It makes me feel like I'm a part of the team."

She doesn't mention that it makes her feel like she has some kind of chance because she's yet to decide if she wants that.

"As long as you know I mean it with the best of intentions," Sam says, quickly picking up another pastry and chewing so he has something to do with his mouth other than just say things that he doesn't intend to say out loud.

The truth is, he is very, very attracted to Ainsley and he doesn't want to jeopardize their friendship and working relationship to act upon it.

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