we're all works in progress.

Charlie nodded as Antony removed the technicalities from their conversation and took a seat. It was nice to be causal, especially in a business where absolutely everything was so formal. “Likewise, Charlie’s more than fine with me,” they smiled. 

“Thank you, Antony. I’d like to think my time in research qualifies me to create legislation like this, despite my status as a junior representative,” Charlie said. “Although I’m certain that not everyone will be so eager to take it seriously due to the matter of the the second half of that statement,” they shrugged. Seniority was everything in education, and if Charlie had learned anything, a bright young face wasn’t always what Congress was willing to bet on, regardless of their accomplishments.

“I’m expecting pushback, as I’m sure you’re also thinking. I can’t rely on the hold of the house, and I most certainly can’t rely on the Senate at this time… I have a meeting scheduled with the Minority Whip soon, although I was a little weary about reaching out before I had the bill’s language perfected,” Charlie admitted. “Which, I still think could probably use some work. Phrasing this bill in a way that shows benefits for both sides of the aisle… that’s been the real challenge.”

“No,” he clarified quickly- maybe a bit too harshly, so he pressed on. “Charlie. You’re right to pursue the Whip’s loyalty as soon as possible. An idea like this one- an idea that causes Congress to scramble- will need all the backing it can get. You’ll need the whip to ensure the Dems in the house stress their party loyalty.”

He wished he had something to occupy his hands, but the pen from his briefcase was all he had. It twirled around and around between his thumbs and forefingers. “Preferably before the midterms in November. It’s better to deal with the devil you know rather than take your chances on a new one.” 

Something one knows can be quantified, the statistics are more set in stone; much more reliable and relevant. All movement stopped whenever he came to an important conclusion. “You- the Whip- you’ll both need to stress that those running in toss up districts can ride the coat tails of this historic bill if they promise their vote; that will drum up support to move it up to even before the presidential election.” In case it’s not clear. “Which would be a good idea, as to not have everyone simply forget. It’s important to keep the momentum.”

Charlie was knee deep in paperwork when he heard a small buzz at his desk, his phone ringing. “Keeting?” their secretary’s voice rang over the telephone line. They had done away with formal titles in their office early on, which probably seemed like some sort of weird violation of respect to a lot of individuals, but until Charlie could put the Doctor prefix in front of his name, he didn’t see the point in the use of such binary labels, specifically with them. “Your 2:30 - Mr. Rivera is here.”

“Lovely, thank you Adrianna,” they smiled, moving up from their desk to go greet their next meeting.

Charlie approached Antony Rivera with a smile. Usually, they didn’t call in advisors outside of his office, but with this bill, Charlie figured he’d need some outside help, especially if he was going to try to convince a handful of headstrong democrats and republicans that the government should have more control over their spending. “Mr. Rivera, it’s a pleasure,” Charlie said, extending their hand out. “Thank you for coming - shall we?” Charlie said, gesturing to head back into their office.

“Nice to meet you, Representative.” As always, start with a friendly hand shake and gleaming smile. “Yes, of course. But please call me Antony.” The Mr. invoked a certain sense of his father and well... some sort of age difference he was happy to ignore. 

Settling into his seat, Antony continued, “It’s impressive enough to see you proposing legislation as a junior representative.” The individual across from him may begin to feel watched, but they should know it was entirely normal and possibly expected. Antony did well to research clients, prepare and outreach, before even the first scheduled contact. “But it’s already evident that you have your wits about you; you’re carrying this ECTA Bill into your upcoming campaign for re-election.”

Maybe he’s hinting at a possible why am I here, but Antony knows very well the primary combatants of green legislation occupy the Senate. Just as he’s all too aware that party loyalty cannot always be expected on third rail issues; unfortunate that something such as environmental friendliness would be considered third rail. But this bill expects climactic change, and very possibly to implement it over night. Democrats will be eager to compromise, Republicans will be eager to invoke state’s rights.

     It was hard for Sarah to ever accept a compliment from anyone who wasn’t overtly on her same side. To her, most things were black and white, and she struggled to comprehend how someone who believed her to represent everything they considered wrong would have anything remotely flattering to say to her. On their previous encounter, he had already surprised her, but she was stubborn and she would never admit to anything, not if it meant confessing she’d been caught off guard. Her public appearance had her be so sure of what she said, she posed as the firmest believer in every single word she pronounced, she couldn’t give that up. That identity would be what made her survive this industry. Even if, in reality, she could only dream of being as certain as she pretended to be. Oh, what she would give to walk with such a strong step and her head held high, and not be wondering over and over what small stone would make her trip.

     “I’m full of surprises,” she simply said with an inconspicuous shrug, finally taking a sip of her sparkling water. She did, however, take some pride in being considered the White House’s most prominent critic ( she would have disagreed, pointed his way towards one Esther Danvers, but what was the point? He didn’t mean it as a compliment, anyway ). He was right, to a certain extent – she would have skipped the event, too, if she’d been told in advance Bell and Sanford weren’t going to be there. She would have also skipped the event if she had been allowed to, but she worked for a network and a newspaper and it was both of those company’s policy to attend this dinner. That wasn’t the most glamorous answer, was it? It wouldn’t really do anything for her speeches against the communist conspiracy theories on corporate America. “If he shows up, it’s because he stole the limelight; if he doesn’t show up, it’s because he doesn’t respect the Office… We can’t really win with you, can we?” The use of the plural form was hardly an accident – Sarah knew it was a bold move, not with him but with anyone close to the Republican ticket, but she was a registered Republican, as well as a reporter, and she considered herself to be part of the solution to America’s problems. 

     He kept going, and she knew ( she knew ) it would take a bigger person to simply nod her head and walk away because this conversation wouldn’t give her anything new, anything she wanted. He wasn’t a candidate, he wouldn’t give her a juicy quote, he definitely wouldn’t make a good guest if he was so analytical about every single thing. What Democrats failed to understand was that people needed strong words, facts, not numbers and long speeches. If everyone was interested in politics, then politicians wouldn’t be needed. She just wanted to help get them off their high horses. 

     His theory on what he would have done if he’d be running the campaign really did make her smile, in an assumed you’re-kidding kind of way. He didn’t look like he would ever step anywhere near her candidates and, even though she couldn’t respect that ( nor did she want to ), she felt the same way towards his. At least, they were even. “Maybe – and this is just a theory here – the real campaign manager has some other things planned for Admiral Bell’s time,” she nearly added a precious but it sounded like a stretch. Besides, Alfred was at this event, but she was making a point, so he better not walk past them anytime soon. “Other things more worthy of his time than a gala in which politicians scratch their own backs,” for lack of better and more lady-like words, that would do. 

“That’s sort of the point. The House always wins.” The pun is perfect, and worthy of appreciation despite party lines. Antony hopes she can see that at least.

She’s young, that’s what he tells himself, because it’s a little hypocritical to antagonize the company one currently keeps. But the way she phrases it absolves her of choice; she feels let down, like she arrived early for a front row seat at a standing concert only to deal with a last minute cancellation. He supposes he can empathize if the tables were turned. She feels out of place, she thinks Bell would, too- and that’s why he didn’t show. The idealization of her candidate is admirable, innocent and naive above all else. But it seemed uncharacteristically cruel for him to crush her dreams tonight. He was fairly certain time would deliver the blow in November.

“Not just politicians.” His voice is low like he’s sharing a secret, and he motions briefly to wealthy patrons as they pass by. “Donors, elitists. The type of people that are here are the same people who think they really run this country. Or that they have a say in who does, at least.” He corrects her, but he tries to avoid sounding patronizing as he does it. If anything, it’s to enlighten her- at least she could come away from the experience with having learned something. 

“Appearances are everything, Ms. Modrik. You know this. So what could be a better use of his time over than rubbing elbows with the 1%?” Those are only the votes he cares about anyway. The question is rhetorical. He actually wants her to think about it.

‘The real campaign manager’ - he can take a hint without being offended, one of his many virtues. He laughs instead. “Fair enough, you’re not wrong. So just like you, I’ll keep my professional opinions buried down deep inside for the sake of the cameras.” He takes notice that his glass is empty. It seemed he needed quite a surge of bubbly to get over the hump of confronting the elephant supporter in the room. 

   “Oh trust me, you say hi to someone online at a Starbucks and suddenly you’ve known them since Junior High according to some outlets, and trust me I am sure anything you say, with a career as distinguished as yours, will be believed no matter what the truth actually is. Honestly, it doesn’t even matter how reputable you are or what position you’ve ever held past or present, why do you think so many past administrations have had to worry about so many best selling, tell-all books?” In his capacity, it was also part of his job in the new digital age to help shape the image of the First Family. 

   Chuckling a little when Antony could confess he could only relate to one aspect of his job, he was hard-pressed to believe there were many jobs like White House Social Secretary. “Being meticulous, and people-pleasing is what makes up ninety percent of the White House. But yes, that’s probably the oversimplified description of my job, I also have to handle what rooms are free when I make sure the menus and the guest lists are appropriate for whatever the event may be. Truthfully, it’s like being an event planner, but if the event goes wrong instead of an angry bride, the President of China is offended and starts a trade war over a cultural slight or for inviting an offensive guest.”  Adrian often found it hard to explain his job because it could go from very laid back and fun to tenuous in mere seconds. Adrian shrugged when asked if that was why he was seated next to him. 

   “Oh I have no idea about that, you’d have to ask the White House Correspondent’s Association about why we were sat next to each other.” Adrian grinned a little, flashing his pearly whites, playing with the cherry in his drink. “Why do you want me to try and figure you out? Because I promise I can be quite seductive when trying to get info out of people.” Obviously, he was joking, though  Nodding a little bit, he smiled again at the mention of him being mentioned in HRC’s autobiography.  “Oh don’t worry I know, we have quite a few copies of her books lying around. Aunt Hillary and Uncle Bill are after all my godparents. My grandfather and parents are super close to them. I was actually there on election night when they won the White House. You might actually not remember this, but we’ve met before, it was during the Obama campaign, in 2012 I was the Deputy Spokeswoman for the First Lady’s campaign team.” 

“It must get annoying; dealing with people who don’t foresee real consequences or appreciate fine details.”

What he means is, it must get annoying to not be taken seriously. If the guy- Adrian Lockwood, he saw on his place tag- told strangers his title, he was probably due for a strange series of questions as to exactly his matter of importance. But he made a decent point; heads of state were among the most privileged humans on Earth, almost itching for something to call an offense. 

Oh shit. “Oh shit,” his mouth hangs open for a few seconds before his jaw snaps shut. So much for poise. “I’m sorry. Really.” Antony wonders how long the guy planned on carrying on the conversation with the elephant of lost identity in the room. But he deserves every aspect of humiliation. They’d met, and even worse, technically Antony counted as among his previous employers. Good thing he never called for a reference. 

The next time he speaks, the words come out very quickly. A bad habit for when he feels flustered. “Then again, if I don’t remember you, it’s probably because I wasn’t chewing your ass out in my office everyday. So thanks for all your hard work. I appreciate it.” Good save. He still feels bad. To the point that he can feel his face getting hot and the blood pounding in his ears. If Adrian noticed, maybe that would soothe any aspect of a hurt ego. Antony’s was certainly suffering; he didn’t appreciate being blindsided. It was evident of a miscalculation.

What he needs now is a change of scene. 

   “Oh god, the Enquirer, yikes, I don’t know any living being that would ever be proud to admit they actually work for the rag, ya know who even works for that rag? I’ve never actually met or seen any writers, writers, of course, being kind to them.” Chuckling, “Hey you never know, they may want to shift their reader base, and any good looking guy in a suit who happens to know the president is certainly going to be given a place to share his thoughts and images, I know they constantly are asking for interviews with me.” 

   Chuckling, Adrian smiled a little more. “Well I am flattered that someone with as distinguished as a career as yours would find that interesting, the best hack to figuring out if it’s my event or not, is if the location is actually the White House. I have to pretty much plan everything that happens there, from the events themselves to things ranging from who’s invited, who sits where, of course, the President and First Lady supersede me, I just make sure everyone who needs to be there is there, and they’re sitting with what could be described as worthy table mates.” Another short laugh left his lips, before nodding a little. 

   “It may look that way, but just by doing things like talking to you are considered working for me, building connections, getting to know people, finding out who likes who, who doesn’t like who. I guess you could sorta say I’m like a gossip fairy, cause I need to have the tea on everyone.” 

“That’s a bit of a stretch- and while I’d hate to suck the fun out the Enquirer and edit its various misapprehensions- President Berkeley and I are not personally acquainted.” No surprise. White House officials were constantly hounded in the press. Antony had become old news when he stepped back in politics in 2016. Something he’s glad he’s stood by. At least it wasn’t him that got Theresa in the White House.

“That definitely sounds both meticulous and people-pleasing,” his nose wrinkled a bit. “I’m afraid I can really only relate to one of those.” Not really that he’s afraid. He doesn’t show much regret for clashing with people. But he wasn’t necessarily a people person; not in the traditional way, at least. He was too impatient, too straightforward- he didn’t like the dance of sniffing around for what people wanted. Only the concrete facts. Everything else was just filler.

     For how the conversation had started, Sarah was taken aback by his compliment. If not because not a single person from the party he supported would ever be caught dead saying something nice about her, then because it didn’t even seem like he meant it as a tease. “Thanks,” still, she eyed him warily. Obviously, her danger radar was way off if she was untrusting of this man and not every single other one who had approached her tonight. “Nice suit,” there was something about an all-black outfit that looks so flattering on some men, and it just turned out that he was one of them. Still, she didn’t speak her words with a particular passion for fashion, but simply returning a compliment she had appreciated.

     And then, ah, there it was. As if they’d known each for a long, long time, Sarah shot him a knowing glare, though she paired it with a growing smirk as if she knew where this was going. “What is that supposed to mean?” she dared him. Let’s hear you say how unwelcome I am. After waiting a beat, she raised her glass up to her lips but stopped before drinking any of the liquid inside. “What I think is we live in a free country and there is no obligation for someone to accept an invitation,” she at least tried to raise the stakes. “Besides, it’s not like the headlines would have been positive if Bell had come, would they?” 

Of course, he’s immediately amused. Something about striking at her practically manifest nerve never failed to please. “Just that you’re the White House’s number one critic. I would have thought you’d follow his example and decline,” he shrugged. “Someone with your conviction? I figured you’d rather stick pens in your eyes.” Using mementos courtesy of a Pro-Life rally, of course. Underneath the wit is a compliment in disguise; it did take a certain manner of courage to abide by one’s beliefs when surrounded by multitudes of evidence to the contrary.

She always assumes the worst; that she’s thought less of for it. He doesn’t think less of her, he merely surmises that it’s a shame.

“There’s a chance they might have been negative, yes,” he agrees. “But a no-show guarantees negative feedback. It makes more sense logically to bait a positive chance than accept certain defeat, right?” Or maybe that’s beyond his mental capacity. “If I were his campaign manager, I’d welcome any chance to get some sort of backing behind him.”

Something Bell didn’t understand is that the ‘relatable’ ideal of a president is a dead horse. Not since Andrew Jackson did the common man appeal to anyone- and the Trail of Tears was a thorn in that legacy’s side. People didn’t want a relatable President. They wanted something powerful, something that inspired awe- something invincible and impeccable. Above regular human standards. 

   What could only be described as a grin slowly grew across Adrian’s face when the other choked on his drink and was so insulted by the suggestion that he could possibly be working for People Magazine. Though he was soon laughing when his table partner began laughing, Adrain did always enjoy making people smile, laugh, feel good. It was why he was good at what he did. “Would working at People Magazine be truly that bad? What if I had been weighing taking a job offer from them? I imagine it’s easy money, especially for a man of your talents.” Adrian wasn’t, and he would never but he was curious to now see the other’s reaction. 

   Nodding a little, “I’ve always liked Ford’s designs. They’re simple, sleek, stylish but not opulent or over time.” Again another small nod, when the other confirmed his position. Although at the question of how over the moon he was going to be when this was over, brought a smile to his face. “This one? A 1, The White House Correspondance Dinner is one of the few major events that has White House in the title that I don’t have a hand in planning. So I truly can just put my feet up, lay back, and relax tonight. This is my night off after all.” In reality even during something like this he wasn’t working, he was constantly networking, but at something like this that work felt so much more casual than if it was an event he had actually planned himself. 

“Certainly a better fallback than the Enquirer; integrity is important.” The compliment is well received, but Antony is skeptical the giver was overly familiar with his daily operation. “Thank you, but still, it’s hard to imagine People scooping up my trending talks on econometrics.” He doesn’t profess to be overly attached to any designer, so he gives a shrugging nod of understanding. If he ever needed a gift for the social secretary, he would remember how fond the other man was of a certain Tom Ford. 

“Really? Huh, that’s interesting...” The hierarchy of event planning was lost on him. So maybe the assumption was a bit of an overreach, but no harm no foul. As far as relaxation goes, the grinning politicians and hoard of journalists groping for the right sound bite offered the contrary. Maybe Bell wasn’t here in the flesh, but that offered little consequence; from what Antony had overheard, he was still a popular topic. 

   Adrian was not aware of the actual reason the President wore white tonight, not that he as going to criticize the choice, the President looked very good in the tux he had chosen. Adrian had also thought it was childish that the Republican ticket had decided they were not going to be attending the dinner tonight. Apparently, they were afraid of a free press, the only conclusion Adrian could come to anyway. “I think the President wore the tux he is wearing tonight because it flatters him. I promise that as the Social Secretary of the White House, I can promise that there is no hidden message in his outfit for tonight.” Smiling a little, he chuckled, “I can tell you I am wearing blue tonight because I am told it goes well with my eyes and that the suit is a Tom Ford.” Raising his eyebrows a little, before chuckling at his tablemate. “Antony, Dr. Rivera, you did not strike me as the type to be commenting on what the President is wearing, writing a piece for People Magazine?” 

He quite unceremoniously chokes on his champagne. “People maga- Oh God.” Maybe it was more that it caught him by surprise than by the wit itself, but he did laugh- and it was surprisingly genuine. As for the sparring between Berkeley and Bell, Antony retained the opinion that the latter ought to have stayed in uniform. “I may have taken a step back from campaigning, but things aren’t so bad- I can assure you.”  

     She’d worn a nice dress, a longer dress ( thank the Lord for formal wear events ) and her candidate hadn’t shown up. She wasn’t complaining, not vocally at least – it really seemed that, in the eye of Democrats, William Bell could do nothing right, and she pitied the man. Still, she wished she would have known sooner. Now, she had to re-think her strategy for the whole night: she was hoping to get a quote or a few questions, hopefully, in with at least one half of the ticket. Now, her Mom’s voice echoed in her head as it suggested she could try to find a husband in this crowd of wealthy, powerful men.

     Instead, she found this math wizard man whom she’d met once in the street. He was, at least, not disgusting to look at and made for interesting and witty banter. She really could have done a lot worse. “Can’t say the thought didn’t cross my mind,” she replied, gripping her sparkling water glass firmly. “For an administration that accused their opponents of being petty and non-patriotic, it does seem like a strange call-out,” she added, giving him a what do you know look. 

How let down she must have felt. But better a no show than the Post capturing Bell unable to put one foot in front of the other. Berkeley had the charisma to profit off of pomp and glamour; Bell on the other hand... had a lack of personality most people found unenjoyable. Stale saltines weren’t for everyone.

“Nice dress.” And it wasn’t like he was lying. He didn’t like lying and he was notoriously bad at it. He figured he should say something since it seemed the majority went out of their way to ignore her. Honestly, was she really so bad? Well... Time to find out. He had plenty of time to kill considering he came alone. 

Granted, baiting her didn’t make it exactly fair but it could still be fun.  “Hey, speaking of call outs, I’m curious...” 

2020 | WHITE HOUSE CORRESPONDENT’S DINNER.

“The President in a white tux? I can’t help but think there’s a hidden message in there somewhere.”

He’s always been exceptionally outspoken. But so far the threat level seems minimum; staff members were tossing out jabs at the Republican candidate like party favors. Never within ear shot of anyone of consequence, of course. The White House was never to be showcased in the light of pettiness.

Antony doesn’t consider himself a celebrity, but it’s always nice to be recognized; either from being credited by the Obama administration or for his presence in economic journalism. Every so often someone would ask if his gold medal actually counted as being on par with the Olympics- which never failed to get a laugh out of him.

“Maybe to compensate for the lack of Republican presence?” 

     He was either a very good liar or simply a moron. It wasn’t nice to make her acquaitance. Except, of course, he didn’t have a clue to who she was, in which case she shouldn’t have said her name at all… She could have used that to do research, approach him with a friendlier smile and posed questions that wouldn’t have made him jump out with his numbers and… Stuff. Whatever it was he did, exactly, she wasn’t sure, but she knew his name was repeated over and over again in the political sphere and Republicans hated him because he wasn’t working for the right party, the right people. At least, people back at home, in Wyoming, did.

     “Your firm launch? Well, then, congratulations are in order,” she bowed her head shortly ( something she’d been taught to do as a young girl ). ‘Treat men with respect, that’s what a young lady should do, and you’ll have them wrapped around your finger’, Mom would say, and she’d been right – for a while. Obviously, her mother had never dipped her toe into politics. The rules of debutant balls and frilly dresses didn’t apply to the dark, twisted alleys of Washington D.C. “And how are you celebrating? A drink downtown? I hear Off the Record is the bar to go,” obviously he would have little interest in her opinions. The best she’d been able to afford so far had been the Blackfinn, but she’d eventually make it all the way to the top. She had to, with what she’d endured. An easy laugh rolled off her tongue and she shook her head slowly. “No offense, sir, but I don’t need to do too much digging for that. This Presidency is falling on its own–” probably better not to curse in front of him. One never knew where life would take her, and she wouldn’t risk it.

     His matter-of-factly approach to data was… Confusing. She’d been in politics for nearly a decade now and she was still struggling to keep up. Sure, on her show, she was rapid-fire questions and witty remarks, but she also had help writing her scripts. She had help coming up with rebutals to possible answers a potential guest might shoot her way. She still needed to get a grip of how to handle beeing one-on-one with something who was so obviously more informed than her. For now, she’d just nod and pretend and ask questions to make them uncomfortable. That was her forte, anyway. “Is that a quote?” she simply mused with a cheeky grin.

“Oh.” Antony chuckles. “Thank you very much. And yes, exactly.”

He mulls over her recommendation only momentarily. Her comment about the administration has his mouth spilling over into a cheshire grin. It amused him. He always appreciated strong opinions. More than not, he appreciated strong misinformed opinions. He was already sure this headline would read like an angry, teenage white boy’s take at dirty mad-libs. 

“Probably not the best idea to quote a source about numbers when they’ve had a bit to drink. Pull up an electoral map of 2016. Better yet, the midterms, and you’ll have a better semblance of the direction this election will take.” But journalists of her calibre resented the best ideas in lieu of the  melodramatic ones. To be clear: her calibre began and ended with the right. They had always had more affinity for anything that made the most noise over the most sense. 

“I think a far better quote would be how the current administration shot itself in the foot with the Disarmament Act. I’m not saying I support it. I’m not saying I don’t. But I can think of several states that don’t. And that disagreement alone is enough to give Bell electoral votes; practically by default.” Third rail issues were incomparable and polarizing. There was very little wiggle room for in between: a politician either does or does not abide by a certain stance. More often than not, such a stance guaranteed the direction of the vote. 

And all of that stood true without even crossing over into the discussion of party allegiance.

“I am afraid I tire of most people within the first 30 seconds of having to meet with someone. I much prefer working in solitaire but unfortunately for me, most of my work requires me to work with other people, and it unfortunately always has.” Chuckling when the other mentioned that he was at least ordering an appetizer before he was going to get to work, the older man had been expecting this, and he had hoped his efforts to jump right into work would actually work this time around. Finishing up his last notes on a matter as Antony put in an order with the waiter, he shut the portfolio and lowered his pen, looking at the other fully now with his undivided attention, though he smirked a little at his joke about the UK”s GDP. 

“I am fine, dealing with the usual stresses of being the head of the State Department, the third most powerful man in the Executive branch, only several heartbeats away from being President of the United States. So I could just call myself peachy.” Raising an eyebrow at the other, before waving a hand. “Now you must know I cannot run the risk of saying anything that will offend our friend’s across the pond. It is my duty to preserve and protect the special relationship we have with them. Now what I can say is the United States will almost always stand beside the United Kingdom, and we are eternally grateful for the relationship we hold with them. I will also add though, I personally hope they find such a solution, despite it not being my job to deal with their internal affairs.”  

“Close as you’ll ever manage? You wouldn’t cut the cord to take a run at the Oval for yourself?” It seems odd to ask given that Antony already knows the likely answer. But the mentioning of any higher office gives leeway for the inquiry; making conversation is all that’s intended at the moment. He does let slip a simple baritone chuckle at the opening statement. Let slip? Wasn’t Richard aware he wasn’t involved in that type of work anymore? Or was he suspecting? “Yes, of course. A very good diplomatic answer; always so polite but vague.”