Ms. Fiderer's Bottle of Water

Ms. Fiderer rummages through her purse amid Oval Office tension, yanking free the bottle—clear water churns inside translucent plastic, cap twisting off with a sharp crack. She brushes aside Charlie's hovering offer, tilts it back for a deep pull, liquid vanishing down her throat as stoned haze clouds her grin, droplets clinging to the vessel's chilled curve while Bartlet fumes and staffers gape at the casual prop piercing high-stakes decorum.