Surely To Their Credit

[theirlawyer]

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.

Comments

[theirlawyer]

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."

[imnotrobin]

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."

[theirlawyer]

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.

[imnotrobin]

"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?"

[theirlawyer]

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."

[imnotrobin]

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."

[theirlawyer]

"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.

[imnotrobin]

"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."

[theirlawyer]

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."

[imnotrobin]

"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.

[theirlawyer]

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."

[imnotrobin]

"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."

[theirlawyer]

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.

[imnotrobin]

"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.

[theirlawyer]

Ainsley takes a long breath, trying to clear her mind before things can get worse. She's drinking champagne and the bubbles are interfering with her calm, she thinks, and she should find her own room. It's the best idea. "I should go," she says. "Sam, I should go," she says, a bit firmer now that she repeats it. "I still haven't found my room yet, and you're enjoying that champagne and I'd hate to force you to get up again."

[imnotrobin]

"I'll help you find it," Sam says, getting to his feet. He doesn't want Ainsley to have to wander around by herself even though she's an adult and perfectly capable of locating a hotel room by herself.

"I haven't figured out the numbering system yet but it can't be that difficult, can it?"

[theirlawyer]

She'd been trying to remove herself from any kind of temptation, but now Sam is being so kind and gentlemanly as to help her with this, which means that she's back in the same situation. Still, she will persevere. "That would be very nice of you," she says, focusing on that aspect instead of how difficult he's making it, especially with bubbly champagne and delicious pastries in her stomach.

"At some point, I think there's a speech we're supposed to get back to writing."

[imnotrobin]

"Do you really think it's wise for us to write speeches while under the influence?" Sam always thinks he's wittier after a few beers but the truth is that he isn't and he doesn't want the president to have to use his words if they're in less than top form.

"Toby would string me up."

[theirlawyer]

"Well, given that you apparently have a plan to drink champagne until the bubbles do your head in, then I'd say you shouldn't be writing anything for the President, but this is just the Correspondant's dinner," she says wryly. "I don't know that anyone would notice if you wrote it while under the influence."

[imnotrobin]

"They would probably think it's funnier," Sam says, which is an occasional goal of his. Speechwriting can get very dry and it is only the occasional chances he gets to really stun his audience that make it worthwhile, be that through policy or comedy.

"We could write it in iambic pentameter?"

[theirlawyer]

Her delighted laugh is probably a little louder than it needs to be, which she'll blame on the champagne. "Sam, don't be ridiculous. You think that most people even know what that is, these days?" she asks, flipping the keycard in her hand as she gives him a fond smile. "Though I wouldn't mind hearing you try."

[imnotrobin]

"I think everyone should have a healthy appreciation for the Shakespearean sonnet," Sam scoffs. "And it wouldn't be trying - it would be succeeding."

He had done plenty of that when he was at Princeton all those years ago but he guesses the arena he plays in now is much bigger than any foolish wordplay he'd done as an undergraduate.

"Anything is better than dwelling on being in a place I don't recognize and not understanding how I got here."

[theirlawyer]

"Well, given that the likelihood of both of us going insane at the exact same time is pretty slim, I'd have to say this actually might be real," Ainsley says, which isn't something she's really used to thinking. After all, she likes seeing and touching things to prove that they're actually legitimately true. "Who knows? Maybe this is Leo's way of forcing you on vacation."

[imnotrobin]

Sam laughs sharply. He hasn't had a vacation since before he worked at Gage Whitney and he doesn't think he's going to start making a habit of it now. The thing is, working for the White House is not a job. It's a calling and a lifestyle and he's never felt the press to take time off. He knows if it were an emergency, he could, and he's happy to devote all the time he has to serving his country.

"I haven't had a vacation since I was in law school. Forced vacation? That would be someone's idea of a joke."

[theirlawyer]

"Well, I took a very nice vacation only a few months ago when I was still shilling my services for op-eds and television and radio shows, but this is a little nicer than the three-star dive that probably didn't deserve two of those stars," Ainsley rambles as she searches the numbers on the doors. "You should take more vacations, Sam," she idly says. "It's good for your health."