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Normally, Tory didn't drink such pink things.
Normally, Tory would still be in President Roslin's office doing damage control over her remarks at the UN. However, Donna had other plans.
She told Donna that she didn't want to go to a bar. She ignored Donna and tried to work as she sat on the corner of her desk and told her that all work and no play makes Tory a dull girl and god she was resorting to clichés and after so many years of floating is space she at least deserved a margarita and this bar her former roommate's ex-boyfriend bartended at was having a special.
Finally, Tory said yes so Donna would stop talking.
Now, she sat at the bar, playing with the remnants of her fourth? fifth? pink drink. Donna still was talking but she faded in and out. Gods, it may be pink but it packed a punch like ambrosia.
Tory swayed on the stool and blinked hard. Donna became audible.
"...and then he smirks at you and he knows that what he did was wrong but he also knows that it was right, y'know? And of course, I have to smack him and say 'Josh!'" Donna leans in, lowering her voice. "But of course, what I really want to do is jump him." This thought makes Donna laugh. "Y'know what I mean?"
"Yeah," Tory responds.
Donna continues, "I guess probably not, I mean, President Roslin's a wo --" It hits her. "Yeah?"
Donna blinks a few times. "Not that I have a problem with that. I'm a Democrat, party of inclusion and all that. Well, actually I think the Republicans say that, but y'know, whatever floats your bo -"
"Shut up, Donna." Before Donna can say anything more, she leans in and kisses her.
As Donna tentatively returns the kiss, Tory revels in the silence and reminds herself that the woman's name is Donna.