"Thanks, Sugar, I can always count on you to just lift me right up," he replied sarcastically. He then went up and found a cup and water and brought it back to her. "Never say I never did anything for you."
Bud hooted with laughter at the image of their Secret Service agents putting them through training. "Sam would die of laughter! He wouldn't even be able to contain himself at the sight of me running." He paused. "Well, trying to run. I wonder if they are still being interrogated about our where abouts." He hoped someone was smart enough to realize that Sam and Clark had nothing to do with their disappearance, but even if they had realized that they probably hadn't yet figured out they had nothing to do with it. Bud couldn't fault that thinking too much, when five high profile people instantly go missing and their body guards aren't injured, it is only nature to look at them suspiciously.
"That's good," Bud mused after Elaine's description of Margaret's training. "Yeah, Sugar, and they told me the same thing. It is so ridiculous. They are so concerned about their security, you think they'd realize they'll either die before they'd get lung cancer from second hand smoke or they'd make it back home before then. Plus I'm running out of cigars. I'm surprised they even allow us to smoke. I would think their paternalistic regime would be against all things fun." Bud of course knew it wasn't that bad, but it didn't mean that venting with hyperbole wasn't cathartic.
"I was really looking forward to seeing you on that stage tonight, Sugar," he reached out and took her hand into his own. "It would've been the greatest speech in the history of the conventions."