The Beauty Process

Luna
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Ginger leaned toward the mirror, squinting slightly when she wasn't wincing in pain. Unexpectedly, the bathroom door swung open. She jumped and whirled around. Sam blushed, stammered an apology, and retreated quickly. Two seconds later, he burst back in.

"This is the men's room," he announced.

"Yes," Ginger agreed.

"I thought it was the ladies' room."

"It's the men's room," she confirmed again, turning back to the mirror.

"What are you doing in the men's room?"

She held up a pair of tweezers. "My eyebrows."

Sam blinked. "In the men's room?"

"The lighting's better."

"The lighting's better? In the men's room?"

She looked at him. "Sam, if you say 'men's room' one more time, I may have to throw some water on you."

"Sorry." He leaned back against the wall.

"Could you leave?" Ginger asked suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"It's just kind of weird to have you staring at me during the beauty process."

"It's pretty weird to have you in the men's room," Sam countered. Ginger glanced threateningly at the nearest water faucet. He held up his hands. "Sorry. You know, it's like six o'clock in the morning."

"So?"

"So why aren't you doing this at home?"

"I was here until three AM doing fact-checking for you and Toby for that little speech."

"Little speech?" Sam raised his eyebrows. "The Tokyo remarks are a major piece of foreign diplomacy. We're negotiating complicated international relations in the space of a pre-dinner sound bite. It's not a little speech."

"A week ago you guys were writing the State of the Union," Ginger pointed out, as she put the tweezers away and took out an eyeliner pencil.

"Well, when you put it like that...."

"The point is, I have a lot of other work to do. I was here late, and I had to come in early. So sometimes I have to do these things here."

"Why?"

"You know what, Sam? You can really be a nuisance."

"No, I just meant, what's the big deal if you don't tweeze your... whatever?"

"We work in an important building," Ginger explained. "Important people are walking around here all the time. I want to look nice. I'm expected to look nice."

"You do look nice," Sam said.

"Thank you. But you really don't know anything about women, do you?"

"Absolutely nothing," he admitted.

"It takes effort for a woman to look the way men want them to, Sam. Ask Cathy about it sometime, or C.J. or anyone." She sighed. "All you guys have to do is put on a clean shirt and a tie. And the clean shirt rule gets waived a lot. You don't notice. You don't know what women have to do to look acceptable."

Sam looked thoughtful. "I never thought about that."

"Of course you didn't. Ask Cathy about it sometime, or C.J., or anyone. You'll see."

"That's fascinating." He walked over to her and peeked into her makeup bag. "Wow."

"Sam!" She nudged him aside.

"I'm interested now," he protested. "I'm gaining a better appreciation of -- what'd you call it?"

"The beauty process."

"Show me."

"I'd really rather not. This is embarrassing. Could you please just leave?"

His face reddened. "Well, I'm kind of waiting for the bathroom to be free anyway."

She rolled her eyes. "Five minutes."

"I can watch?"

"If you must."


* * *


"Twenty minutes," Bonnie declared.

Cathy leaned against Ginger's desk. "Now that's just weird."

"What?" Carol asked, pausing as she crossed the bullpen.

"Ginger went to the bathroom twenty minutes ago," Bonnie told her.

"Maybe she's got the urge to Herbal."

"And Sam went to the bathroom twelve minutes ago," Cathy added. "And neither of them have come back."

Carol looked back and forth between the two of them. "You think...?"

"I think it's really weird that people are hanging out in the bathroom, that's what." Bonnie rifled through some phone messages. "This isn't junior high, and they're not skipping Science class."

"They don't have to be in there together," Carol insisted.

"No," Cathy agreed. "But unless somebody put Ex-Lax in the coffee this morning...."

"That's disgusting!" Bonnie looked at the cup in her hand.

"The alternative's disgusting too," Carol said. "I don't buy it."

"She's a woman and he's a man," Bonnie countered. "They're both single. What's to stop them from hitting the sheets?"

"Or in this case, the tiles," Cathy joked.

Carol frowned. "Technically, doesn't she work for him?"

"That doesn't stop some people around here," Bonnie said knowingly.

"This is a big building. You'd think they could find a windowless hallway or something." Cathy looked at her watch. "Twenty-one minutes for her, thirteen for him."

"You guys are sick," Carol decided.

"Hey, I say more power to her," Bonnie said. "Sam's not exactly my type, but he's certainly tasty. If Ginger gets--"

"If Ginger gets what?"

They looked her over as she came in from the hall. "Pizza for lunch," Cathy said quickly. "I'll chip in."

"Uh-huh," Ginger said doubtfully. She walked around her desk and sat down, reaching for a pen.

Carol stifled a laugh and left the room. Cathy wandered over to Bonnie's desk and spoke in an undertone. "Well, her makeup looks perfect."

She nodded. "Maybe too perfect."


* * *


Sam walked into Mrs. Landingham's office and greeted Charlie. "Morning."

"Hey, Sam."

"Where's Mrs. Landingham?"

"Down at the copy machine. Did you need her for something?"

Sam shrugged. "Not really. Is he free?"

"In a few minutes."

"Okay." He sat down in a chair. "Let me ask you something."

Charlie regarded him warily. "Is this something I'll wish I didn't hear?"

"What makes you think that?"

"People around here usually just say what's on their mind," Charlie said. "If you say 'let me ask you something' first, nine times out of ten it's something disturbing."

"This isn't one of those times."

"Okay."

"What do you know about makeup?"

Charlie stared at Sam. "Yeah, that's not disturbing or anything."

"Like, do you ever notice when a woman is wearing too much makeup?"

"I suppose."

"Well, did you ever realize that it takes a whole lot of makeup to make it look like you're only wearing a little? There's this whole complicated process. We should appreciate that. Not to mention all the different kinds of skin products there are, and...." Sam trailed off and shook his head.

"Sorry you brought it up?"

"Yeah."

"Me too." He shot Sam another odd look as the door to the Oval Office opened.

Abbey Bartlet emerged, a serious and weary expression on her face. She touched Charlie's arm lightly. "He's ready for you."

"Good morning, Mrs. Bartlet." Sam stood up again as Charlie slipped from the room.

"Hi, Sam."

"How was your trip?"

"It was all right."

"I was sorry I didn't get a chance to talk to you about--"

Abbey waved this off. "It was a good speech. I wasn't thrilled with some of your choices."

"I gathered that from Toby."

"It was a good speech, Sam." She pushed a lock of hair back from her face. "It did what it was written to do."

"Thanks."

She gave him a small nod and started to leave. He called after her. "Mrs. Bartlet? You look nice today."

She turned around, surprised. "Sam?"

"I mean it. You have very lovely eyebrows."

Abbey looked at him for a moment, puzzled, and a smile spread across her face. "Well. Thank you."

"No thanks necessary."

"Okay."

She shook her head and walked away. Sam smiled proudly to himself, and headed into the Oval Office to start his day.

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