Elizabeth Miervaldis Lemon entered her office, and accordingly took a long breath out, leaving her stomach to protrude its natural allowance. She inhaled with an irritated sound, quickly sucking it all back in, until she noticed it was only Pete entering her near sight, and let it all hang out once again.

"Jenna's back from shooting her summer movie," he didn't even attempt to hide his displeasured tone.

"She was the main character, huh?" Liz sat at her desk and flipped her laptop open.

"Yes, kinsman," Pete folded his arms around his clipboard.

"Does she want more attention than usual?"

"She's already pitched me two skits," Pete continued, unfolding his arms and reading from the clipboard, "a girl who has a nightmare about being in a dark room alone, having a fight with a mirror. The script she's had written for her is around 57 minutes in full-length; without the songs. And a skit about 'a simpler time when Dakota Fanning and her blonde foetus friends were not yet born'. Answer your question?"

"Joy," Liz smiled hesitantly then opened her eyes wide expressing her pride, "Do you know what? I ate healthy all summer, Pete. No junk food at all!"

"Oh, Liz," Pete grabbed her shoulder and shook it slowly, "And I grew more hair."

Liz frowned as Pete left, passing Jack on his way in.

"Good god, Lemon," Jack eyed her stomach, "what have I taught you about breathing sparingly?"

Liz breathed her belly in, pulling her blazer closer about her waist, "What do you want, Jack?"

"To see how your summer was, although-" he took a second look, "I now suspect lonely, sad, and… lonely."

"Actually, Jack, I ate healthily the whole summer. Salad and fruit," Liz sat back down.

He took yet another glance at her stomach, "Did you wash each meal down with a jug of warm lard?" Jack blinked.

"No," Liz scrunched her face, "I realized that all I get out of food is a good taste in my mouth for thirty seconds or so."

"Well," Jack awed, "that's pretty deep for you, Lemon. If you bare in mind all things in your thoughts are relevant to food."

"So, that was all you wanted?" Liz animatedly yelled - obviously irritated - grabbing an orange from the bag on her desk and peeling it.

"Well, I also wanted to tell you that the city of Pawnee, Indiana is visiting NBC to get us to, quote, "actually give them NBC rather than tell them they're not important enough"."

"Yay," Liz frowned, "that sounds like fun for you, Jack. Why're you telling me?"

"Because, Lemon," Jack placed his hand in her bag, inevitably pulling out a pack of Sabor de Soledad, "the deputy head of Parks and Recreation and new City Councilwoman – the only opposing Pawnee representative - is a feminist. Therefore given the chance, could be misleadingly attracted to your show. So don't show her an episode, of course."

"What does a recreation department leader have to do with NBC and cable?" Liz snatched the chips from Jack.

"No idea. That's what I want you to find out. I trust you because of your love of gossip, and don't tell me you're not a gossip type. I've seen your DVR. Two words: Real Housewives."

"Well, why isn't NBC showing in Pawnee?" Liz ignored his comment and started eating her orange - foul faced.

"It didn't seem worth it, but with all the media attention in Pawnee that the story is getting, they're going to be worth it. I need you to distract her so I can swoop in quickly and finalize the deal."

"What about her opinions, Jack?" Liz eyed her orange hatefully then returned her angry attention to Jack. "Your brain only has business in it, doesn't it?"

"Your brain only has food in it, doesn't it?" Jack pouted.

"Touché," Liz dropped her orange in the bin and searched her desk drawers for her ration pack of Mexican Period-Stoppers – or Sabor de Soledad.

"She'll be in at about 11," Jack walked to the doorway, "So meet her downstairs and be nice. Act like you're one of her."

"A feminist?" Liz was appalled, "I am a feminist, Jack! I work everyday to bring equality and a high standard of respect to women everywhere."

From the monitor beside them, they heard Jenna's voice in rehearsal, "And as the new President of the United States, I would like to declare every 28 days from tomorrow the Official President's Day Off. Don't talk to me, take pictures of me, or touch me. Ugh! No, starting from now! Screw all of you! … Biden, you son of a bitch!"

Jack tilted his head slightly, leaning on the doorway.

"Okay, okay," Liz sighed, creasing her face in a frown, "I'll try and be nice."

"And don't stay dressed like a small-town lesbian," Jack left her office.

"Ha! You've said that before!" Liz smiled in triumph.

"Then why haven't you done so?" Jack called back.

"Why haven't you done so?" Liz mimicked under her breath, and finished off the chips.

"We're in New York!" Leslie Knope grinned out the cab window, "Aren't you excited April?"

April nodded and smiled until Leslie looked away. She then mimicked hanging herself from the roof.

"Oh, Ron," Leslie looked at him in the front passenger seat, "Thank you so much for inviting me."
"I knew you had a strong opinion about it, and I knew it was different to everyone else's, so obviously we had to come," Ron smirked out the window deviously.

"Well, thank you for letting me and many other Pawneeians who share my feelings be heard," Leslie grinned, pointing to Rockefeller Centre, "There it is! Look April! Look! There it is! April, can you see it? April? Can you? Can you see it? April? April, can you? Look! Look at it, April! Say yes! Can you see it? Can you, April?"

"Yes," April eyed Leslie accordingly.

"Thank you, sir," Ron handed the cab driver a twenty, "you have phenomenal patience with women who feel they must do everything for themselves."

"My bag wasn't heavy at all," Leslie stretched her eyebrows, gathering the Sweetums wrappers covering the seat and floor into her bag.

"Then why were you swearing at it?" April smirked.

Leslie swallowed behind clenched teeth, "We have a history."

Ron pulled out another twenty and slipped it into the cabbie's hand, "Do you know where the nearest steak house is?"

Leslie rushed out of the car, producing a camera in seconds and taking pictures of the Centre, like a homosexual photographer would a greased-up covergirl.

"It's amazing," Leslie grinned as April reluctantly joined her, "Look at all the windows. It's like as many windows as the Pawnee Bread factory - but less. Well, before it was burnt to the ground by an arsonist, as new evidence has found. Who would be so cruel to bread? What's bread ever done to them? It's just defenceless yeast; poor, defenceless yeast," she cleared her throat a little, remembering her duty, "The human lives lost were tragic too."

April looked at Leslie discouragingly.

"Ron, are you ready?" Leslie looked back to Ron, walking towards them with two large bags in hand. One distinctively Leslie's by its expressive shade of pink and hand-cut magazine pictures of nearly every animal but a turtle.

"I can't wait," Ron smirked again, putting the bags down and clasping his hands together in excitement.

Elizabeth Miervaldis Lemon once again sucked in her stomach, and approached the blonde lady wearing "Pawnee Pride" and "Knope 2012" badges on her fitted grey pantsuit.

"Hi," Liz stretched out her hand; suddenly feeling underdressed in jeans and a casual blazer, "Leslie Knope?"

"Yes. Hi!" Leslie shook her hand eagerly, "And this is Ron Swanson; my better half."

Ron ignored Liz's initiation of a handshake and instead stared her down.

"Hello," Liz withdrew her hand, "I'm Liz Lemon, head writer of TGS with Tracy Jordan, and" – she used her best Kenneth voice – "your tour guide for this evening."

"It's day," Leslie squinted and pointed to the sun.

"This is gonna be fun," Liz breathed in sharply and gestured towards the door, "Shall we?" She started walking.

Leslie looked into empty space, "I like her already, and I think we're going to be best friends. I can tell April and Ron love her too. She's so empowered."

"Who are you talking to?" Liz looked into the blank space.

"No-one," Leslie followed Liz engagingly, looking back and winking to the same spot. They entered the building with Ron and April followed closely behind.

"Is that hotdogs I smell?" Ron dropped the bags abruptly, surveying his surroundings like a meerkat.

"Well, on my floor – the sixth floor – they have Hotdog Lunch Monday, but I don't know how you could-" Liz couldn't finish her sentence before Ron ran to the elevator bank, skidding on the corner but continuing at the same speed.

"Is he super human?" she tried to banter.

"No. He's not human. He's an alien." April kept her chin low and eyes on Liz's face.

Liz caved into her remembrances of nightly sci-fi movies in college.

"Really?" she opened her mouth slightly and looked back to the elevators.

"April's just joking around," Leslie covered, jokingly punching April's arm. She'd asked her not to scare anyone away. "She's a really funny person. So am I. We all are at the Parks and Recreation Department of Pawnee. Just little jokers. Always joking around. With jokes and stuff." Leslie attempted a smile that ended up conveying awkwardness.

"Okay…" Liz slowly edged towards the elevator bank, "Up?"

Leslie grinned, "I love that movie!"