All the writers – even those not from Studio 60 – had learned to greet Suzanne's arrival on the picket line with cheers and gratitude. They'd even started to save a parking space for her, when they could manage it. Granted, most of that was because she invariably arrived with coffee and doughnuts, funded by Matt and Danny, but it was love and adoration nonetheless.
Danny had to wonder, though, just how intelligent the idea of giving everyone coffee had been. It wasn't even the writers he worried about – Lucy and Darius seemed no more excitable under the influence of caffeine as they did at any other time, and Matt's neuroses could not be affected by just caffeine. But since the actors had joined them on the picket line...
Alex and Dylan were sparring with their signs, with Tom and Simon egging them on. No good could come of this.
"Suzanne?" he said as she handed him a coffee. He didn't look at her, mostly distracted by the whole... spectacle with the signs. Someone was going to get hurt. And he was going to laugh.
"From now on, decaf for everyone but me."
"And me!" Matt said, sitting on the curb near Danny, head bowed over a notebook.
Matt looked up, blinking at her. "Was that to him or me?"
"You realize our requests were completely contradictory?"
He stared at her a moment longer, and then shrugged, turning his attention back to his notebook. "Yeah, okay."
"Danny?" Suzanne asked, turning away from Matt to face him. Seeing Danny trying to juggle both his coffee and a fussy Rebecca, she stepped forward to grab his coffee helpfully.
He smiled in gratitude. "Yeah?"
"Why is Matt wearing a pink shirt?"
Matt looked up again. "I'm sitting right here and you can't ask me?"
"I assumed you were busy."
"He's not. He's just writing new chants because he doesn't like the ones we have."
"The vast majority of people here are professional writers and we're stuck with 'We won't write until it's right'?"
"Does he think the chants aren't funny enough?"
"As a matter of fact, yes, and– Why are you still talking to Danny and not me?"
"Because I'm in charge here, Slim."
"Who said you were in charge?"
"I'm always in charge."
Matt stared up at Danny for a minute, apparently gave up on finding a comeback, and turned to Suzanne. "We were supposed to wear red."
"And that's why I'm wearing a pink shirt."
"He couldn't find a red shirt," Danny added helpfully. He decided to be nice and not point out that he'd found a red shirt for Rebecca, whose wardrobe consisted of primarily pink things.
Suzanne frowned a little. "That doesn't even look like it's supposed to be pink. It looks like..."
"It got mixed up with some of Harry's laundry," Matt grumbled, looking as if he might be considering killing them both. Danny knew he was safe, because he was holding a baby. Suzanne was also safe, because if Matt killed her, he wouldn't have anyone to bring him coffee.
"You know, I could get Jordan to buy you a red shirt and bring it to you when she comes down here..."
"Is Jordan even allowed to come down here?" Matt asked.
"I have her child with me. If the network's going to accuse her of fraternizing with the enemy, it's a little late for that."
"I don't need you to get me a red shirt."
Suzanne stood there in silence for a second, glancing from Matt to Danny, and said at last, "There's some more coffee in my car. I'm gonna go get it before it gets cold."
Danny nodded. Matt gave her an absent wave and turned his attention back to his notebook. Suzanne stepped a little closer to Danny and stood up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "There's a red shirt in my car for Matt whenever he changes his mind."
"Oh, thank God. He looks ridiculous."
"Just keep writing your chants, Norma," Danny said, watching Suzanne as she trotted back to her car.
"You know, it's a mistake to provoke the wrath of someone who makes his living mocking people."
"You're not busy unleashing your wrath on the AMPTP?"
"I will direct my wrath as I see fit!" Matt said, pointing a finger up at Danny. "Don't push me."
"Okay. Hey, would swinging by the studio and picking up your clock help you finish these chants any faster?"
"You know you're not funny at all."
"That's why I'm not a writer."