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It’s not that Leo hates schoolchildren, it’s just the unions that represent their teachers make his life a living nightmare. They’re 72 hours past the biggest victory this campaign’s ever seen, and all positive momentum has been absolutely steamrolled by the Arizona Teachers Union. The rep they typically coordinate with is angry about something with sex ed because of course she would be just as Bartlet for America gets its wings. Toby has been ranting for the better part of the past hour about it, reminding them all that it would be better optics to quite literally shoot a puppy on live cable than comment on condoms in schools to a crowd of moderates. Leo’s pretty sure Toby’s about to resort to throwing things when a knock comes at his door.
“Um, Mr. McGarry?”
It’s the young blonde that’s been running around Josh since New Hampshire, her name’s escaping him at the present moment. She’s a pretty little thing, and Josh says she’s pretty bright when you get past the college credits. Not that that matters anyways, Leo’s never been a stickler for a pedigree.
Leo hasn’t said ten words to this girl but he’s finding himself fond of her. Josh can be a handful and she’s seems to be keeping pace with his neuroses quite well, which can prove to be all the difference in a high stakes campaign like the one Leo’s suddenly found himself running.
“Uh, yeah?” Leo asks as he pulls up his email. The union rep has lit a fire under all their asses, and Leo finds himself, not for the first time, longing for Josh.
Noah Lyman’s death is a tragedy on all accounts. He was a good attorney, an even better friend, and a great father, if the young man Josh has turned out to be is any judge. But Leo hasn’t spoken to Noah in many years, really hasn’t been a friend of his in more than a decade. In spite of the distance, Leo finds himself honestly shocked by how quickly Josh has become invaluable to him.
Josh has been gone less than three nights and absence has made itself known. Fires seem to be popping up at every left corner without Josh to wrangle them down. Leo’s email is exploding, the volunteers have gone completely uncoordinated, and Josh’s little speechwriter has spent more time staring morosely out the window than he has, well, speechwriting. Even Jed himself seems out of sorts without Josh, which is pretty surprising because if Leo’s memory is correct, and it always is - blonde assistants aside, the Governor was still using the names Josh and Toby interchangeably just this Monday.
“I don’t think I can do this,” The girl has her sleeves pulled down over her palms and has been swaying nervously on her feet. He gestures for her to come in and hand over whatever file is causing the confusion. His phone flashes red, and he picks up before the first ring even sounds.
It’s the union rep, again. She’s wondering if he’s seen her email. The one she sent literally 25 seconds ago. Yes, that’s the one. She wanted to flag it as high priority, and also has four additional follow-up demands for the negotiation Leo’s not sure they ever agreed to have in the first place.
He idly leafs through the manilla folder the girl had handed him as the rep drones on. It’s basic donor elbow rubbing, mostly letters and a couple of cold calls. Josh was supposed to divy it up between the volunteers before he... well, before Noah. It’s a simple enough task, clearly within this kid’s wheelhouse.
Leo tells her so and gestures for a sheet of paper, all the while “uh-huh, okay, sounds good, sure thing”-ing the rep that’s somehow still on the phone. He scratches down the names of the gold-tier donors, and then the party line she should be telling them written out in shorthand.
He slides it back to her, devastated to see another email coming in from the Teachers Union. The girl blanches when she reads the paper, biting anxiously at her lip.
“Mr. McGarry, I-”
“It’s just Leo,” He finally is released from the call. He groans, swallowing his coffee that’s gone cold.
“I don’t think I’m qualified to do this sort of thing. You see, Josh-”
“Sure you are! It’s cold-calling, even the Governor could manage it.”
“No but I’m not sure if I can-”
The phone lights up again, this time a leader of a large congregation from South Carolina. He’s furious with Jed for “showing him up on his own pulpit” last week. They’ve really got to get CJ to pin down Jed’s folksy-charm. If they lose the New York primary because of a poorly-timed verse from Leviticus, Leo’s going to walk straight into the Hudson.
He sees his email light up once again - you guessed it! The union rep! And at that point he realizes that the secretary is still hovering over him. He waves her off, he doesn’t have the time to hand hold right now.
She gathers the folders’ contents that have been scattered across his desk, and as she does, Leo notices the claddagh ring sitting nicely on her ring finger. It looks just like the one he’d given Mallory for her sixteenth birthday. He hadn’t realized the girl was Irish.
She’s halfway out of the office, when he calls after her, “What’s your name again?”
“I’m Donna,” She doesn’t look offended, but she does look worried. Almost like she’s not even sure that’s her name.
Leo suddenly finds himself laughing. He covers the phone and says “You’re gonna be fine, Donna. And even if you’re not, I’m right here.”
That earns him one of those world class midwestern smiles Josh had been telling him about the other day. She holds her head up just a fraction higher, and when she walks out, Leo knows in his gut that she’ll secure double the donors Josh ever could.
Yeah, she’s gonna be fine.
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