The Right Amount of DIHC (2/8)
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairing: Jack Donaghy/Liz Lemon
2. Intelligence
“No.”
The word sneaks out through gritted teeth, throaty and threatening, as her skin begins to itch with hot-blooded frustration. This conversation has all the weird, gaudy ornamentation of an escalating disagreement: diametrically opposing viewpoints, blooming irritation, someone who knows what they’re talking about, and an idiot.
This time, Liz Lemon is not the idiot.
Fighting with Dennis is like driving into oncoming traffic. It’s rarely, if ever, done on purpose, and once you’re in the middle of it, there’s no telling which way is up. His logic is circular and dependent on a series of increasingly intricate misunderstandings. Unfortunately, no matter how frequently she reminds herself that it doesn’t matter if he knows that he’s wrong as long as she knows, there are times - such as today - when the temptation to prove his ignorance is too great.
On these occasions she cannot justify the existence of their relationship, the comfort and good humor she finds in his company. While the things she loves most about him exist in the present - his determination to succeed, his cooking - the rest of him seems mired in the swamp of a bygone era. His worldview is as modern and practical as his beeper store.
She talks to him, at him, with him, for hours on end, but the structural integrity of her argument makes little difference. Dennis is incapable of seeing her point, grows tired and confused and, finally, hungry.
Although she's certainly smart enough to best him, she's also smart enough to know when to give up.
Pairing: Jack Donaghy/Liz Lemon
2. Intelligence
“No.”
The word sneaks out through gritted teeth, throaty and threatening, as her skin begins to itch with hot-blooded frustration. This conversation has all the weird, gaudy ornamentation of an escalating disagreement: diametrically opposing viewpoints, blooming irritation, someone who knows what they’re talking about, and an idiot.
This time, Liz Lemon is not the idiot.
Fighting with Dennis is like driving into oncoming traffic. It’s rarely, if ever, done on purpose, and once you’re in the middle of it, there’s no telling which way is up. His logic is circular and dependent on a series of increasingly intricate misunderstandings. Unfortunately, no matter how frequently she reminds herself that it doesn’t matter if he knows that he’s wrong as long as she knows, there are times - such as today - when the temptation to prove his ignorance is too great.
On these occasions she cannot justify the existence of their relationship, the comfort and good humor she finds in his company. While the things she loves most about him exist in the present - his determination to succeed, his cooking - the rest of him seems mired in the swamp of a bygone era. His worldview is as modern and practical as his beeper store.
She talks to him, at him, with him, for hours on end, but the structural integrity of her argument makes little difference. Dennis is incapable of seeing her point, grows tired and confused and, finally, hungry.
Although she's certainly smart enough to best him, she's also smart enough to know when to give up.