The Perceptions of Cogs in a Political Machine

When she pops by the campaign offices, delirious to share about the partnership offer, Alicia tells Eli first instead of waiting to find Peter. He's understandably proud and they hug and he offers to take her out to lunch to celebrate. She declines, saying she's going shopping, but gives him a touch on the shoulder and comments that they'll find the time to celebrate together when (taking care not to use the word if) they both have cause and his own issue is satisfactorily resolved.

When she sees Peter that afternoon, there's a brief flush when she remembers the events of last time she was on the bus. He's suitably happy, and his offer to back her is initially suspicious, until he clarifies that it is essentially business with no strings attached, and she indulges in a kiss. It's an embrace given freely, with no strings attached… except the one that's beginning a tentative coil around their hearts…

Cary and Alicia are walking down the hall and talking about this and that and partners come up and something big comes out. She's a little stunned herself, but still seems taken aback by the revelation he's being offered partner too. "We could be partners in crime." A small but genuine and almost rueful smile quirks her at that, and he switches tack. "Are we still on for a drink tonight?" "I'd love to but there's the Illinois Womens' Blah Blah tonight and I have to put in an appearance. Rain check, okay?" His brow furrows in that soft way, slightly puzzled at her declination, but understanding soothing at least part of the sting. He gently touches her shoulder and says he'll hold her to it. "I think we could use a Shot of Conversation soon, if you know what I mean."

Later in the evening, Kalinda joins him for a drink. She's not just a substitute drinking partner; he knows as much about her as she'll allow, and they get along pretty well, even if she does always figure out a bit too much about him. She seems to pick up on his reasons and motives and makes those little deductions she makes, and she takes to playfully needling him about things all night. He doesn't mind, and she doesn't seem to mind when he drinks a little too much or talks about Alicia or kisses her goodnight. But they're friends and that's what friends are for, right?

Kalinda Sharma is not an investigator for nothing. She has a knack for ferreting out information, uncovering the things people try to hide. At the moment, she's having a drink with her friend Cary. Cary has been offered a partnership at their firm. He's happy, because it's what he's wanted forever, but apprehensive over the niggling bother in the back of his mind. Kalinda is happy for him, because whatever else they are, they're friends, and she wants him to be happy... but it's tainted by the knowledge of the true motive behind the offer. She can't say what she wants to say; she's not at liberty, and there's no way around it. So she smiles a smile that's a little too tight, and doesn't quite meet his eye all night, and when they've moved into round 5 at the bar, she takes him out to dinner to soak up the booze and teases him about Alicia and lets him give her a sloppy kiss goodnight and pours him into a cab.

What was it that woman said? Kalinda ponders as she walks home through a blind alley, her train of thought only briefly derailed as she breaks the jaw of a would-be mugger and dislocates his knee before calmly walking on. Oh yeah. I'll think about it tomorrow.

Diane Lockhart is not used to getting her way. She has become accustomed to things progressing along in a beneficial manner, and deals with unfortunate shifts as gracefully as possible. However, watching Alicia gladhand the equity partners and smile obsequiously is somewhat irritating, even though Diane forced her hand to do it. She's silky smooth, socially savvy with a politician's perception of a situation… and she never came off as oily or grimy. This is Chicago, she's a lawyer, married to a politician, and best friends with backstabbers and fixers- who all know not to cross her. Crooked should be her middle name, but Diane knows Alicia has always tried to comport herself with integrity and aplomb, the portrait of grace under pressure. Yet it's the grain of sand in the oyster shell, watching her be so affable… that instead of bonding over gender-based slights or narrow minded like circumstances, Diane has been reduced to a "grow up and act right" ultimatum like the headmistress of a finishing school. She feels mean and a little petty, and somewhere in the back of her mind she wonders why she feels so out of sorts: because she's been reduced to pushing Alicia the way she had… or because Alicia has given in but still seems to be conducting things on her terms. Was she jealous? Annoyed? Why does this upset her? She should be and is happy for another woman breaking through, whatever the cause, and genuinely likes and trusts Alicia. What's wrong with her? Has she been secretly hoping Alicia would refuse to come, throw some misguided (and highly uncharacteristic) tantrum… or is it that she's still so coolly calmly obedient, and that the sight is making Diane feel like a tin goddess, a little dictator in a designer suit. She hates the feeling. She hates not knowing. And she hates not quite hating Alicia.