All characters belong to Aaron Sorkin, John Wells Productions, Warner Bros., & NBC. Standard disclaimers apply. Please send feedback. The Trifecta Violet
"Do you have a minute?"
C.J. glanced up quickly from her desk. Toby stood in her doorway, still with his coat on, and she knew he'd stopped by her office as soon as he'd arrived. "You didn't let me finish saying what I wanted to say yesterday."
"That's because I didn't want to hear it," she told him.
"And now?"
"Right now I'm kind of busy."
"C.J.--"
"I'm kind of busy, and I'm pretty sure you should be too. Don't you have a nine o'clock with Fountain and Murdoch?"
"Yes."
"Well, shouldn't you be preparing a witty and polite but unambiguous way of telling them to take their proposal and shove it?"
"Sam's on it. Listen to me."
"I have a briefing to get ready for." She pushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. "It's eight in the morning and I'm already tired."
"I was wrong," he said, simply.
"You got played," C.J. agreed, scanning a newspaper column.
"Yeah." He frowned thoughtfully. "I trusted Ann for the wrong reasons, and I have better reasons to trust you."
She did not raise her eyes from her reading. "I know that."
"I'm saying I don't want this to be...." He put a hand to his brow in frustration. "I don't want this to be a thing standing between us now."
"It's not a thing."
"It is."
She looked up at him and their eyes locked. "Go away and let me work," she said, seriously.
"Fine." He started to walk out.
"Toby?"
He waited.
"I already told you I don't want an apology, which, considering you've only apologized to me three times since I've known you, shouldn't be that much of a problem. I still don't want to hear it. Stop trying to make it right, all right?"
"Okay," he said, doubtfully.
"Just..." She trailed off with a sigh and began again, not unkindly. "I need time, and space. And you have to go pretend to be nice to Fountain and Murdoch."
"I don't have to be nice; I have to be witty, polite, and unambiguous," he reminded her, managing a small, sheepish smile.
She smiled back in spite of herself. "Well, go do that, then."
"Yeah." He disappeared into the hall.
C.J. shook her head, stretched in her chair, and went back to work.
Toby went through the corridors at his usual brisk pace, ignoring everyone around him. And everyone had sense enough not to attract his attention -- with the exception of Sam, who followed him into his office.
"So, maybe we should decide how we're doing this meeting," Sam announced.
Toby took off his coat and looked at him suspiciously. "What did I ask you to do this morning?"
"You wanted me to think about how to do this meeting."
"This is what you come to me with."
"I have ideas," Sam said, defensively. "I was waiting for your input."
Toby sat behind his desk, and thought of the conversation he'd had with Leo. "We're going to need these guys in six months, and they know it."
"We need them now."
"Yeah, but in six months, it's going to be six months until--" Toby pointed at Sam.
"Next January?"
"Is he a smart one?" Toby quipped to no one in particular. "Is this one a quick learner?"
"An election year." Sam considered the implications. "So we still say no, we just say it in a way that hints at future rewards."
"Witty, polite, and unambiguous."
"That's good."
"That's the Trifecta." Toby tapped a pencil on his desk. "Anything else?"
"Not really." Sam tilted his head and studied him. "Did you want me to do anything for you?"
"What?"
"I don't know, I thought maybe I could talk to C.J. for you or something."
Toby spoke in a warning tone. "I know where her office is."
"Yeah, I'm sure, but I'm saying it might help if someone else--"
"We've seen enough of what happens when you play messenger, haven't we?"
"Karen Cahill? That wasn't really my fault, you know."
"There is no earthly way I could care less."
"Okay." Sam stepped out, glancing back over his shoulder. "But you know, smart men screw up around smart women a lot."
Toby glared after him for a fleeting moment, and then set about starting his day.