"Sam-"

"It's blinking!" He pointed to the screen, where Microsoft Word was merrily winking its text cursor at them. Toby rolled his eyes, and glanced down at the yellow legal pad on his lap.

"Yes, Sam," he muttered, clicking his pen. "It is blinking."

"Like it's impatient," Sam said. He laughed, and couldn't find his breath. "Like, like, it's waiting for us!"

"What are you on?" Toby mumbled, scrawling on his pad. "This speech needs to be done by tomorrow morning."

Sam wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, grinning widely. "How far along are we?"

Toby checked his notes. "First paragraph."

He stopped smiling. "First paragraph?"

"Yeah."

"You're kidding."

"Am I laughing?"

Sam stared at him, then guffawed. "No, but maybe Word is."

"Funny, I don't smell marijuana," Toby grumbled, scratching the back of his neck with his pen. He pulled the pen away from his skin abruptly, and glared at it; the point was out, which meant ^Ö "I just wrote on the back of my neck."

Sam snorted. "You wrote on the back of your neck?"

Toby's grimace deepened, and he said, "Check it out, maybe the speech is back there." Sam barked laughter, and stumbled out of his chair to check Toby's neck; Toby got up, and glared at Sam. "What -- what are you doing?"

"I'm checking your neck." Sam looked at him with wide blue eyes, all innocence and confusion.

"You're checking my neck?"

"For the speech," Sam clarified, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"I -- wait. I didn't actually mean-" He ran a hand over his scalp, and sat back down. "Never mind. Let's, ah, let's get back to the speech."

Sam sat back down and turned to the still-blinking cursor. "Where are we?"

"You just asked me that a minute ago, Sam," Toby groused.

Sam glanced at him and snickered, "Yeah, but the look on your face right now is funny."

Toby rolled his eyes. "What time is it?"

Sam checked the computer's clock and said, "It's three AM." Snickering some more, he added, "Which means this needs to be done in four hours."

Toby scratched the back of his neck again, and pulled the pen away just as abruptly as earlier; again, the point was out. "Unless we were in Britain," he muttered absently, furiously rubbing the back of his neck. "Then it woulda been due an hour ago."

"But if we were in California, we'd have a lot more time," Sam piped up. "Three hours, right?"

"Yeah."

"Except," Sam added, hiccuping. "We're in DC, and you can't -- you can't move DC to-" He started laughing, and slapped his hand on his desk. "The Presi -- president's gonna, goh -- kill us. No, Le -- Leo. Then -- the -- President. Then -- CJ!" He paused to catch his breath, and turned, grinning, to Toby. He pointed to the screen again. "Blinking!"

Toby rolled his eyes, and sighed. "You need a nap, Sam."

Sam giggled, and fell off his chair.