There's a little too much alcohol around, and they're all in dresses that show off something, whether shoulders or cleavage or legs or a long, lean back, and it's all just a little too boarding school for complete and utter comfort.
That is sexy. Just sexy.
Dr Bartlet is stunning, and anyone would fall in love with her. Or so CJ tells herself. ... And seeking her out.
That paragraph - from beginning to end - sets the tone for your entire story, a tone that is sweet and sad and completely understandable.
It's natural for CJ and Dr Bartlet to drift together after campaign functions. Natural that they would spend time together in the few brief moments CJ had when there wasn't work to be done. Or so CJ tells herself.
With just a few brief sentences, you have captured the entire explanation of how and why C.J. and Abbey fit together so well.
In the residence, among the wine bottles and glasses, Donna stumbles over the distinction between "Abbey" and The First Lady, and while she blushes and apologizes, CJ drinks more wine, because she's spent more time than Donna trying to navigate that tricky route of identity, and she still isn't good at it.
You have done what I have wanted to do for years: Given an identity to both C.J.'s guilt and her lack thereof.
It's been a long time, and when Abbey surprises her, early morning in her office, CJ calls her "Mrs Bartlet," and doesn't know where in her mind the title sprang from.
This line is the perfect way to blend C.J.'s want of Abbey with C.J.'s descent into her job.
She watches Abbey across the room and realizes that she hasn't moved on entirely. She still wants her, still wishes that life were different, that Abbey wasn't married and that they weren't both Catholic.
That entire description is true, sweet, and painful, very much like the relationship itself.
Well, my dear, you have picked up a fan today. I love the hug at the end, I love the mention of the SSA, and I love that Abbey cries. Basically, I love it all. Bravo.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
regna![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
I hope you like long feedback.
Date: 2007-04-24 04:21 pm (UTC)That is sexy. Just sexy.
Dr Bartlet is stunning, and anyone would fall in love with her. Or so CJ tells herself. ... And seeking her out.
That paragraph - from beginning to end - sets the tone for your entire story, a tone that is sweet and sad and completely understandable.
It's natural for CJ and Dr Bartlet to drift together after campaign functions. Natural that they would spend time together in the few brief moments CJ had when there wasn't work to be done. Or so CJ tells herself.
With just a few brief sentences, you have captured the entire explanation of how and why C.J. and Abbey fit together so well.
In the residence, among the wine bottles and glasses, Donna stumbles over the distinction between "Abbey" and The First Lady, and while she blushes and apologizes, CJ drinks more wine, because she's spent more time than Donna trying to navigate that tricky route of identity, and she still isn't good at it.
You have done what I have wanted to do for years: Given an identity to both C.J.'s guilt and her lack thereof.
It's been a long time, and when Abbey surprises her, early morning in her office, CJ calls her "Mrs Bartlet," and doesn't know where in her mind the title sprang from.
This line is the perfect way to blend C.J.'s want of Abbey with C.J.'s descent into her job.
She watches Abbey across the room and realizes that she hasn't moved on entirely. She still wants her, still wishes that life were different, that Abbey wasn't married and that they weren't both Catholic.
That entire description is true, sweet, and painful, very much like the relationship itself.
Well, my dear, you have picked up a fan today. I love the hug at the end, I love the mention of the SSA, and I love that Abbey cries. Basically, I love it all. Bravo.