"Well," Toby said evenly, "this certainly doesn't bode well."

Josh kept his nose buried in his polling book, Sam kept his gaze on his laptop screen, and CJ didn't even glance up from the Sacramento Bee. "What doesn't bode well? And," she continued, "doesn't bode well for what?"

"That," Toby answered cryptically, gesturing at the window. "And us."

"Us the campaign or us the four of us in this--Oh!" CJ's gaze slid past him to the window. She tossed the editorial aside and stood, peering eagerly outside as she moved to Toby's side. They'd arrived at the small hotel--really a gorgeous old house that had more in common with a bed and breakfast--the night before, and CJ had been entranced by all the trees. They were so green and tall and plentiful, nothing like the scrubby specimens of Southern California. Tonight, in the dim light streaming out of the window, the trees weren't green so much as they were... white. CJ brightened at the very thought of a wintry wonderland. "Is that really snow?"

"No, CJ, this is what they mean when they talk about the White Mountains," Toby answered grumpily.

CJ stuck out her tongue at him. Having lived in California so long, she'd developed a nostalgic love of snow. Which usually was buried by resentment and annoyance after slogging through it for more than a day. But the Bartlet for America campaign had been spending quite a bit of time in South Carolina, limiting her exposure to the winter wonderland of the New England states.

Josh's head jerked up. "Snow?" he said, his tone reflecting boyish panic that was, CJ thought, amusing coming from someone over the age of ten. "Like, a lot of snow?"

"No, Josh," Toby retorted, "I thought I'd get worked up over a little flurry--"

"Okay, okay," Josh interrupted.

"Was it supposed to snow?" CJ asked. She frowned, trying to remember any mention of inclement weather. "Did I watch two hours of news coverage on Franconia Notch and somehow miss the part where the meteorologist said it would snow?"

Sam joined them at the window. "It wasn't predicted. They said a chance of freezing rain for this area, but not snow. Maybe this is a Nor'easter," he said, rather enthusiastically. CJ still didn't know Sam very well, but his constant optimism was turning into a nice foil for Toby's curmudgeonly ways. Not that Toby saw it quite like that. But CJ knew he'd been impressed by a speech Sam banged out on his laptop while huddled in the corner of a small grocery store in South Carolina. Sure, Toby's exact words were "Hmmm, this'll do," but she had a feeling he now harbored a grudging respect for the sometimes appallingly naïve young speechwriter.

Toby expression grew more sour, which CJ hadn't really thought was possible. Josh, who CJ had surmised was the kind of person who adored the sound of his own voice talking, couldn't resist a comment. "Maybe it was the aliens."

"Josh," CJ groaned. While Josh's ego and sense of humor should be something that set her teeth on edge, he had an irrepressible charm and the kind of not-very-well-hidden vulnerability that made women like Mandy Hampton fall for him despite their better judgment. And it made CJ treat him about the same way she treated her brothers. "Again? Really? It happened in the 1960s, can't we let it go?"

"The first alien abduction in the nation, CJ," he retorted. "Right here in New Hampshire. You don't think we should know what kind of fruit loops we're soliciting for votes? Alien Abductees for Bartlet."

"I'm going to have to say no to that slogan, Josh, though it would," she admitted, "get us some national exposure really quickly. And I'm thinking we can attribute the snow to, you know, clouds with frozen water or whatever it is that makes snow." CJ stared out at the snowflakes falling rapidly. They were so beautiful, sparkling in the light, piling gently atop cars and fenceposts and mailboxes and streetlights.

"Okay, Scully," Josh answered. "Then you explain why no two flakes are alike."

"Well," Sam said, "snow is formed when water freezes in clouds over cold land masses, and things like air currents, temperature, and humidity affect the shape of the resulting flakes. Though," he added as an afterthought, "they're all hexagonal."

Toby turned his head, leveling an intimidating stare on Sam. "You're a real freak, you know that?" he remarked mildly.

"Freezing rain," Sam answered with a small smile, "is super-cooled water that freezes the instant it lands."

"Scully?" CJ repeated, ignoring Sam's meteorological outburst entirely.

"Yeah, CJ." Josh nodded, looking entirely too proud of himself. "Scully from the X-Files?"

"Yes, I get it," CJ shot back. "But isn't she, like, four feet tall?"

Josh smirked at her. "That's what makes it funny. Because you're ten feet tall."

Sam tapped lightly on the window, distracting CJ from making a sarcastic comeback. "Wow," Sam said. "There's gotta be six inches already."

"Six inches?" Josh parroted.

"What's six inches?" Donna asked, breezing into the room with a sheaf of papers which she deposited in front of the still-stunned-by-the-idea-of-snow Josh. Then her words registered, and he started to smirk.

"Snow," CJ answered before Josh could open his mouth. "Six inches of snow." The last thing a long-shot campaign needed was a sexual harassment claim brought by the naive college-aged, corn-fed Midwestern volunteer. CJ gave him the eyebrow for good measure. Josh shrugged it off and paged listlessly through the papers. No doubt they contained polling data.

"Six inches," Donna declared, "is nothing."

Josh's smirk reappeared, but Donna continued before he could make the inevitable off-color remark. "The area around the Great Lakes gets a lot of snow. You know, because before the lakes freeze the water is warmer than its surroundings. So the wind blowing over the top collects more moisture, which freezes once the wind brings it over the colder land and creates little snow squalls that affect the immediate surroundings."

Josh stared at his assistant in mild shock. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"That," he answered, waving a hand at her. "Remember all kinds of useless information."

"It's not useless," Sam opined with a small frown. "It's interesting."

"To freaks," Toby intoned.

"It is interesting," Donna ventured, still unsure around Toby. "Did you know that snow is really yellow, but the human eye automatically subtracts the color?"

"I did not," Sam answered.

Josh didn't manage to suppress a groan. "I don't remember meteorology being one of your majors."

"One," Toby echoed, eyebrows lifting, "of her majors?"

Donna blushed. "I'm well-rounded."

"You had--what was it? Five majors and two minors?" Josh scoffed.

"I'm a Renaissance woman," she tossed back with an impertinent tilt of her head.

Josh rolled his eyes. "And I'm saying none of them was meteorology. I would've remembered meteorology."

"Can you major in meteorology?" CJ wondered, absently staring at the snow wafting down.

Sam shrugged. "Probably. Otherwise, the five-day forecast would be something of a shot in the dark, wouldn't it?"

"It's a shot in the dark now," CJ pointed out.

"It's more of an educated guess based on historical patterns of weather," Sam countered. "They have charts and stuff."

"You're right," Donna told Josh brightly. "I did take chemistry, though, and they generally cover the basics." She waited a beat. "Like, say, the freezing point of water. Didn't they cover that at Harvard?"

CJ grinned in approval. Maybe this wide-eyed, porcelain-skinned Wisconsin... er? CJ frowned. Wisconsiner? Wisconsite? Whatever. Maybe Donna could handle the ball of political fervor that was Josh Lyman.

"Yes," Josh retorted cheerfully. "It's 32 degrees."

"Fahrenheit," Sam added. "It's zero on the Celsius scale. And snow is really yellow?"

"Yes, but snowflakes are made up of a bunch of tiny crystals, and it's something about the light reflected from the surfaces of the crystals that makes us see it as white," Donna said, a little crinkle appearing in her forehead as she tried to remember the details. "Sunlight and fluorescent light and incandescent light--none of it is really white, but our brains subtract the color."

"Huh," Sam said pensively. "I wonder what color the light really is?"

Donna grinned at him. "You know why they call it 'ultraviolet?'"

Sam looked impressed. "Violet light," he mused. "Really? Interesting. What about--"

"Oh, for the love of God," Toby muttered, rubbing his beard.

"You know," Josh said, looking back and forth between Donna and Sam, "you two would be pretty scary in a Trivial Pursuit game."

Toby raised his voice. "Can we please talk about the blizzard going on outside this hotel right now instead of obsessing over the color of snow?"

"Blizzard?" Josh asked, jumping up and joining CJ, Toby, and Sam at the window. Donna followed, tilting her head to see over Josh's shoulder.

CJ scanned the little clearing carefully, unable to discern where the lawn ended and the driveway began. The rental cars were indistinguishable masses of brilliant white snow hunkered down near the house, and the entire area was eerily bright. It looked like they'd suddenly landed inside a snow globe that was sitting directly under a lamp.

"That's not a blizzard," Donna decided. "It's maybe six inches."

"We're in the damn mountains," Toby sighed. "The roads are probably impassable."

"Oh," Donna said as realization hit. "The event tonight--"

CJ couldn't help but grin as she stared out at the pristine white snow. "You know what we should do?"

"Pit Sam against Donna in a Trivial Pursuit battle?" Josh offered.

"Commandeer a snowmobile and get the hell out of here?" Toby muttered.

Sam grinned at his boss. "I don't think we're allowed to commandeer stuff yet."

CJ flashed him a skeptical look. "You think we're going to be allowed to commandeer stuff when we win?"

"When we win," said a familiar voice. "I like that we're thinking positively."

The group at the window turned guiltily to face Governor Bartlet, who stood in the doorway in jeans and a Harvard sweatshirt. He was so strange, CJ thought, so changeable. Such an odd mix of the homey, kindly, compassionate guy who was most at home talking to a group of people about how he could try to make their lives just a little bit better, and the cold, angry, forgetful man who snapped at his staff and didn't trust one among them. CJ definitely didn't regret her decision to join the campaign; at the very least, it got her away from the image-soaked entertainment-driven politics of Los Angeles. But she still wasn't quite what was behind the Dr. Bartlet/Mr. Hyde dichotomy.

The Governor's wife, Abbey, was a lot easier to understand. Abbey was smart, kind, and generous with the campaign staff. She and Zoey, the Bartlet's youngest daughter who was taking a year off from Dartmouth to help with the campaign, came on almost all the trips, spending plenty of time with the newcomers on staff. CJ had a feeling that Abbey was in many ways their champion when her husband started to doubt Leo's wisdom in bringing in such young, relatively inexperienced operatives to run his campaign.

Abbey, in a casual sweater and khakis, slid past her husband and greeted them all with, "Good evening. I see you've noticed the problem."

"Problem?" echoed Toby, his tone one of disbelief. CJ would've laughed at the look on his face, but she wasn't sure the Governor would find it very funny.

"Sir," Sam said, "aren't you supposed to be leaving for--"

"It's cancelled," CJ told him.

Governor Bartlet watched the interplay with the hint of a smile playing at his lips. "AJ's right."

"It's CJ, Jed," Abbey corrected him with an exasperated look. She settled onto the couch, and beckoned to her husband.

"CJ," he repeated, frowning. He studied CJ's face for a moment, as if committing it to memory, then sat down next to Abbey. "Right."

"It's cancelled because of the snow?" Sam asked, glancing over his shoulder at the glittering outside. He was a Californian, but while most people from mild climates found a single snowflake daunting, he seemed to think that the hardy northeastern people should be adapted to the point where they could drive in a blizzard. CJ found his unwavering faith in people rather endearing.

"Leo's on the phone with George Flender," the Governor answered. "But, yes, I believe the roads are too dangerous for us to get there. And the snow shows no signs of stopping."

Abbey rolled her eyes at her husband. "You're a meteorologist now?"

"Donna is." Josh gave his assistant, who turned quite red at his words, an amused look.

"You're a meteorologist, Dana?" the Governor asked.

"Donna," Abbey corrected with an apologetic look in Donna's direction.

"No, I'm not, sir," Donna answered, shaking her head. "Josh is just mad because I know more about snow than he does."

The Governor turned his attention to Josh. "Aren't you from Massachusetts?"

"Connecticut," Josh said. "Westport."

"And you don't know anything about snow?" Governor Bartlet persisted.

"I wouldn't say that," Josh equivocated. "But I would say that Donna's claim that she could smell snow coming earlier today was ridiculous."

"That's what I said this afternoon when we arrived," Bartlet said, grinning at Donna. "Smells like snow, I said. Didn't I, Abbey?"

"I don't know," Abbey admitted mildly. "I wasn't listening."

Her husband frowned at her, but didn't comment. Josh turned a similar expression Donna's way. CJ and Sam exchanged amused looks, and Toby looked like he'd just swallowed a Sour Patch Kid.

"I still don't understand how there can be no hotels in Hartsfield's Landing," Sam said in an obvious attempt to change the subject. He didn't seem to like conflict between his friends and coworkers. CJ wondered if that would hinder his ability to work with Toby, the most disagreeable man in the Western hemisphere.

Toby, who had always possessed a rather scary ability to read her thoughts, flashed an annoyed look her way.

"Yeah," Josh added. "That's un-American."

CJ gave an indelicate snort. "Not having a hotel is un-American? I think not having a McDonald's in town would be un-American."

Josh smirked at her. "I'm guessing if there's no hotel, there's no McDonald's."

"Well," Toby said, wickedly sarcastic, "as fascinating as this inane discussion is, if we could focus on the problem at hand--"

"What problem?" Josh demanded. "The event's cancelled. Period."

"Can we reschedule?" CJ asked the Governor.

He shrugged. "You'll have to ask--Ah. Leo. What ho?"

Leo paused halfway to the armchair and gave his old friend a dubious look. "What ho?" he repeated.

"Yes. What news?"

"Okay," Leo said, "let's try to steer clear of using that expression in public, Jed."

"It's Shakespeare," the Governor answered haughtily.

"Whatever," Leo said, turning to his staff. "There's no way we're getting thirty miles over the mountains in this weather. The primary's less than a week away, and our schedule's pretty tight. I don't think we're gonna reschedule this one."

Josh and CJ exchanged looks. Because CJ was still finding her sea legs, so to speak, she gave Josh a small nod. He turned back to Leo and said, "I don't think that's the best idea, Leo."

"Why not?"

"Because Hartsfield's Landing has successfully chosen the winner for the last forty years," Josh answered. "Yeah, we're going to take New Hampshire, but that's a gimme. We need to win in Hartsfield's Landing. That's human interest."

CJ jumped in, "Josh is right, Mr. Secretary--"

"Call me Leo," he ordered, that enigmatic half-smile on his lips. CJ knew she owed her job to Toby, and that the Governor could very well decide he didn't want her, but the person she had to prove herself to was undoubtedly Leo McGarry. Leo was kind, but firm; he was incredibly smart and had no patience for stupid mistakes. And he had more political experience than anyone in the room; CJ's string of statewide races in California did not give her the kind of confidence she needed to convince McGarry she was the right person for this job.

"Sorry. Leo. Josh is right. The networks are going to pay more attention to the Republican primary in this state, and write off a win by the Governor as home state loyalty. If we can win in Hartsfield's Landing, that's a much more interesting story. And one they'll be able to tell all day long while they're waiting for official results at seven that night."

Leo glanced past her to Toby, who CJ could see in her peripheral vision. Toby dipped his chin slightly in agreement, Leo hesitated a brief moment, then turned to the Governor. "Jed? What do you think?"

The Governor nodded slowly. "I want to win in Hartsfield's Landing."

Leo looked back to CJ and said, "Okay. Josh, look at the schedule and see where we can get back up here with the least disruption to the other events."

"We can reschedule the trip to Nebraska," Josh answered immediately. "It's one event, their primary's not for three weeks, and, well," he shrugged, "it's Nebraska."

Leo glowered at him. "Meaning?"

"Hoynes has Nebraska locked up, Leo."

Governor Bartlet raised his eyebrows. "I thought we weren't even trying to beat Hoynes."

"We need to beat Wiley," Leo confirmed. "I'm not arguing with you, Josh. We can postpone the trip, but don't dismiss Nebraska. It's an early primary, and we need double digits."

Josh nodded, and a momentary silence fell.

"So," Sam said brightly. "We've got an evening off, huh?"

"If being trapped in the mountains is your idea of fun," Toby grumbled, "then, yes."

"It's not like we're wrapped in thermal sleeping bags camping out above the treeline, Toby," CJ shot back. "We're not being deprived of modern conveniences."

"This hotel," he answered, "does not have cable."

CJ's mouth dropped open. "What?"

"Toby's right," Sam said with a rueful shrug. "Network only, and we're so far north, some of the stations are Canadian."

"Not only do we not have CNN, but what we do have is Canadian?" CJ dropped into a chair and rubbed her forehead miserably. "How am I supposed to keep up with--"

"It's one night," Leo interrupted. "I'm sure you can think of something unrelated to politics to do for one night."

CJ glanced up in time to see Josh attempt to cover his laughter with an unconvincing cough. The Governor raised his eyebrows at Josh, who waved a hand vaguely at the window, "I think I'm allergic to snow."

"Snow is water," Donna pointed out, eminently reasonable. Josh glared at her, and she shrugged. "You're allergic to water?"

"You're not helping," he muttered.

"I wasn't trying to," she admitted with a small smile.

"Sam," Toby said so suddenly that Sam started. "We can polish the Winston-Salem speech. Go get--"

"No," the Governor interrupted. "If I get the night off, so do you, Tom."

Toby cleared his throat. "Toby."

"Toby," Bartlet repeated, turning an expectant look CJ's way. "I believe I interrupted CJ when I came in. Weren't you about to suggest something to occupy your time?"

"Yes," CJ answered, impressed that he'd gotten her name right. "Yes, I was going to suggest that we go, you know..." She hesitated, wondering if she'd compromise her air of professionalism by admitting that she wanted to go play in the snow.

Jed Bartlet smiled broadly. "You wanted to go play in the snow, didn't you?"

CJ flushed. "I grew up in California, sir."

Sam perked up. "Snow angels?" he asked. "I've never made snow angels."

Toby gave him an odd look. "Didn't you live in Manhattan?"

"Yes."

"And you're still amazed by the snow?"

"I'm not amazed," Sam protested. "Would you lie down in the snow in Manhattan?"

Toby frowned. "Fair point."

"Let me give you the Reader's Digest version," Josh chimed in. "You go lie down in the snow, you move your arms and legs a bit, and then you feel this hellishly cold spot on your back and realize the snow is melting a little beneath you, leaving you with very wet, very cold clothes. Not to mention the fact that your snow angel has footprints all around it, and, considering your height, CJ, looks more like the aftermath of a barroom brawl than any sort of angel. At which point you run back inside, take a hot shower, and you end up back in this room with nothing to do except shiver."

CJ stuck out her tongue at him.

Abbey laughed aloud. "It is pretty cold out there, CJ. While I appreciate your desire to play in the snow, I'd suggest you wait until it starts to warm up tomorrow. Mid-morning, maybe."

"I believe," Jed Bartlet said, eyes twinkling mischievously, "that there was another option on the table."

Leo gave him a suspicious look, Josh seemed confused, and Abbey groaned. "No, Jed."

"Why not?" he demanded, draping an arm around her shoulders.

"You know why not," she answered cryptically.

"Oh, no," Leo sighed. "A board game?" he guessed.

"Yes," the Governor answered cheerfully. "A friendly game of Trivial Pursuit."

"No," Leo answered immediately.

"Why not?"

"I've played Trivial Pursuit with you before, Jed, and it wasn't pretty."

"You're just saying that because you lost."

"Whatever, Jed," Leo answered, giving Abbey a sympathetic look. "Luckily for our campaign staff, we don't have Trivial Pursuit here."

"Ah," the Governor answered, "there's where I bet you're wrong. Abbey and I had Scrabble in our room."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, Josh and I had Pictionary. Remember, Josh, I said I wished we'd have time to get a round of Pictionary in?"

"Not much chance I'm gonna let you forget that," Josh answered.

Governor Bartlet turned to Toby. "Did your room have a board game?"

"I wouldn't know," Toby said. "I'm not much for board games."

"He has Monopoly," CJ answered. Off Toby's curious look, she shrugged. "It was next to the chair, and you took long enough to dig out your laptop. Anyway, Governor, it looks like we're not going to be able to--"

"CJ," Donna interrupted. "We've got Trivial Pursuit in our room."

A chorus of groans greeted her announcement, and the Governor clapped his hands together and replied, "Excellent, Dena. Abbey's on my team."

"No, I'm not, Jed."

The Governor turned to his wife. "Excuse me?"

"I'm with Leo," Abbey decided.

"Oh, no you're not," Leo protested. "I'm not playing."

"Yes, you are," the Governor argued. "And my wife is on my team."

"No, Jed," Abbey repeated. "You're impossible when you lose."

"You think I'm going to lose?"

"With the wealth of information in this room," Abbey said, indicating the group still standing near the window, "I think it's a distinct possibility, and I'm certainly not going to be the one who gets the dirty looks later on."

"Donna's with me," Josh said quickly, moving closer to his assistant.

CJ glanced over at Toby with a devilish grin. "I've got Toby."

Toby rocked back on his heels and stared at her. "You've got me?"

"Shaddup, Tobus."

Josh smirked. "Tobus?"

"Shaddup," CJ repeated conversationally.

Abbey pushed herself upright and approached Sam, who was looking more than a little worried. "Be a dear and team up with the Governor, would you?"

Sam glanced helplessly at Toby, who stared back, expressionless. "Uh..." Sam said. "Okay."

"Excellent!" Jed Bartlet enthused, standing up and moving towards the round table on the other side of the room. "Let's play ball."

***

"What did I tell you, Abbey?" Jed Bartlet crowed, leaning back in his seat. He rubbed the dice between his palms with palpable glee. "Twenty-seven questions. That's got to be a new record, getting all six pies in just 27 questions."

"Gee," Leo deadpanned, "I can't imagine why I thought you'd be unbearable."

CJ caught Toby's amused look and had to bite back laughter. It really was quite something to see Jed Bartlet like this--teasing his old friend, bickering jovially with his wife, and generally not acting like the sour, arrogant jerk he'd been towards his new staffers. CJ much preferred this guy, the one who won people over from the podium.

Bartlet grinned at Leo. "Just because you and my darling wife are trailing by--how many?--five pies--"

"Oh, stuff it, Jed," Abbey interrupted. "Roll the dice, would you?"

CJ snickered just a little as he complied. The Governor glowered in Josh's direction when he rolled a four instead of the six he needed to land in the center. "History, of course," Bartlet decided without bothering to consult Sam.

Donna selected a card, her face falling as she read the words. "Who's the only President--"

"Oh, c'mon," Josh grumbled. The Governor smirked gleefully.

"--to have survived two assassination attempts by women?"

"Well, let's see," the Governor started. He had the annoying tendency to reason his way to his answers aloud. At some length. CJ suspected the habit had something to do with displaying his formidable breadth of knowledge. "There have been four actual assassinations of Presidents--JFK, of course. Abe Lincoln. William McKinley. And James Garfield. None of them, incidentally, were killed by women."

"Governor, do you have an answer to the actual, you know, question?" Toby wondered. CJ nudged his leg with her knee.

"I do," Sam piped up.

The Governor turned a suspicious look his way. "You do?"

"Yes."

"You know which president was--"

"Gerald Ford, sir."

The Governor frowned. "I was getting to that."

Abbey reached across the table to pat her husband's hand. "Sure, you were, Jed."

With a measuring look, Jed handed the dice over to Sam. "I guess you can roll."

"Thanks," Sam said. He rolled the dice, scanned the board, and said, "Pink."

"What's Marty McFly's favorite recreational sport in Back to the Future?"

"Back to the Future?" the Governor echoed.

"Skateboarding," Sam declared.

"Well, this is fun," CJ opined. "I especially like the part where we just sit and watch."

Toby gave her an amused look while Donna pulled out the next card and read, "Which Party's Presidents--"

"Okay, Jed," Leo interrupted. "Did you stack the deck?"

"Providence," the Governor answered with an imperious sniff, "is smiling on me, Leo."

Abbey rolled her eyes, and Josh made a choking sound.

Donna tried again, "Which Party's Presidents have thrown out the most opening day baseballs?"

Finally, one that neither Sam nor the Governor knew offhand. They consulted for a moment, then Bartlet said, "Party loyalty, my friends. The Democrats."

"No," Josh answered, grinning widely. "And believe me when I tell you this is the only time I will happily say that the Republicans beat the Democrats at anything."

With a derisive snort, CJ snagged the dice from Sam and rolled, letting Toby pick the category--a compromise they'd worked out beforehand to ease their Arts & Entertainment versus History tension. Toby chose History, of course.

Abbey offered the box of cards to Leo, who declined. She selected a card and read, "Who was the first astronaut to make two trips into space?"

CJ smiled at Toby. "This one's yours."

Toby dipped his chin. "Gordon Cooper."

"Wow," Sam said. "How did you know that?"

"I am a fount of wisdom," Toby answered, talking the dice CJ offered and landing them on pink pie. "Arts & Entertainment."

Leo snagged a card, rolled his eyes, and read, "What five words start Shakespeare's line ending with, 'And all the men and women merely players'?"

"'All the world's a stage,'" CJ and Toby answered in unison, though CJ was much louder. She blamed the alcohol.

"What ill-fated Irish wit and playwright quipped: 'To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance'?"

"Oscar Wilde."

***

10.20.04