Look at this. A sign from the gods--
Hey--
I am trolling for favors, and here you are. I also need to hit up Russell Jackson as well.
This might not be the best time.
Yeah, I heard. Bit of an ouch-y in court. (Elizabeth gives him a stern look) How else would you describe it?
Oh, I don't know, Mike, maybe sensitively. What favors are you here for?
I need recommendation letters for my kid's super-elitist, beyond-his-intellectual-capacity private school.
Mike, do you really want to send your son to a school that he is not suited for?
One hundred percent. So can I count on you?
Well, it's a hell of a day to be asking for a favor for your privileged kid. (Mike gives her a begging look) All right, send me his application and his essay (Mike produces the paperwork immediately) No promises.
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