Bad things don't happen to writers; it's all material

“No, I haven’t,” Meghan corrects her with a pointed finger. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. It’s a win for everyone.” She glances towards the steps, then back to Olivia. “Well, not for him, I suppose, but that ship’s already sailed. I help you, you help me, and we help prevent another G.I. Joe from turning our morning commute into an episode of Law & Order.”

Meghan takes another drink from her coffee and turns away from the crime scene. She’s facing Olivia now, an interested brow raised in her direction. 

“So? Have you found the wife yet?”

Olivia nodded, “spoke to her this morning... let’s just say she used some colourful language.” Not that the blond blamed her - how do you get over something like that? Especially when your grief is put on display for everyone to ogle at. She was party responsible, but that was her job, showing the nation the uncomfortable reality. 

She sighed looking down at her watch. She’d been at the white house for the better part of the afternoon, and all it had done was cement in her mind how grossly underprepared this administration was. Not that she would ever up and tell Hernandez that: she wanted to remain on the woman’s good side and calling her incompetent was hardly the way to do that.

“You heard any whisperings about what this press briefing is about? Apart from the body on capitol hill?” she asked titling her head. No one was giving her anything, and as a journalist, being out of the know was the most frustrating thing of all. 

“No one seems to know what the hell is going on around here.”

“Isn’t it your job to think about it?” Meghan asks, voice even. It could’ve easily been condescending– and she certainly would’ve preferred it that way– but she needs Olivia on her side. They have a deal, see: Meghan calls Olivia up whenever she needs something done, and Olivia does it. It’s a near-perfect system. Meghan gets what she wants, and Olivia– well, who cares what Olivia gets? That’s not the point.

The point is Meghan, of course.

“It might even be a good story,” she offers, this time turning to look expectantly at her companion. “A hero dies and his family grieves. A few good members of the government set out to avenge said death, and the young reporter is the first one to get it all out there.” She pauses to take a sip from her latte. 

“What do you think?”

“Well, it’s my job to write about it,” she corrects the older woman. When it came to the gory details, Olivia tended to take an out of body approach. There were times when she just had to -she honestly didn’t know how’d she sleep otherwise. It didn’t mean she didn’t care per-say, it was simply for self preservation.

For a moment her mind flickers to a fire she’d reported back in post, the fatalities had been great -  “you write about it, then you put it into a box and lock the contents away until you need to use it again.” It’s what she’d done to get through that event, and it’s what she’d do to get through the striking images she’d seen of the body on the capitol steps. 

It had either been that, or to simply stop feeling at all - and she would not allow herself to become an unemotional spectator, compassion lost - that would mean becoming her parents - something she couldn’t stand.

Olivia laughed. “You forgot the part where the young reporter gets the interview with the wife,” she said. 

Olivia hummed, “that’s good to know,” she replied politely. It must be positively irritating to always have to give a diplomatic response especially when she was sure there were times people at the white house just wanted to tell her to piss off. The blond leaned against the brick wall, letting out a sigh - she looked up at the pale blue sky. “It’s almost surreal after the winter we’ve had that spring has finally arrived,” she mused. Spring had always signified the start of a new chapter in her books, and with all that was going on, it really felt like it.

That it was - the people wanted answers, and so far the white house had offered little if none. Olivia wasn’t exactly surprised that social media had become a great pressure cooker than usual on both sides. “You have a no idea,” she replied taking a sip of her own coffee, at the same time she reached over to throw the cardboard coffee cup sleeve in the trash. “So,” she said slowly dragging out the word. “How have things been since the tragedy.”

People kept jostling into her table, and once in a while she’d open her eyes, looking first at the laptop in front of her, closed though it was, before up at the people jockeying for their position in the line to get a drink. She should be used to this, used to all of it, and yet she seemed… annoyed?

“If you need a seat, just ask.” Allison offered seemingly to no one, as it was directed in any particular direction, but the offer was open, and if someone had been looking, well… now they knew.

Olivia had been taken back, she hadn’t expected Allison Kingsley of all people to be so forth coming. Her friends were always impressed but Olivia’s extensive knowledge of persons in power - but she made it her job to be able to put names to faces. 

She never wanted to be an opportunity to make a connection. “Oh well, thank you,” she said, “if you don’t mind?” she tacked on at the end. She’s arrived at the white house early hoping to figure out what was going on but had had no luck so far - so she’d settled for a coffee in the cafeteria as she waited for the briefing to start. 

“Long day?” she asked, trying to make small talk. 

that they were— times which he never would have wished upon even the worst of his enemies, and yet was living in them, himself. as were several of his friends, relatives and new colleagues. a gentle nod signifies his acceptance of her words, though the requirement of which is nil.

and there it was, a question he hadn’t addressed since taking his seat. not out of any particular form of respect or admiration for POTUS, but one thing after another had taken precedence. 

timing was key, in all things. “ miss. shepherd, i’m afraid i don’t particularly find it becoming to discuss our president at a time like this. ” least not in public, nor before the wrong audience. he was more than happy to voice his thoughts to his closest confidants— most notably his wife. but these weren’t the confines of his office, and she certainly wasn’t his wife.

“ though if you stick around, i might be available to give you a comment at a more suitable occasion. ” that didn’t hinge on which way the flames fanned; clayton liked to believe he had more class than that.

Olivia nodded in return, “completely understandable senator,” she replied. It wasn’t exactly like she had been expecting any different, getting anyone at the white house to voice their actual opinion of the president as of late had been like pulling teeth. 

She’d hurt a lot about the ‘honeymoon period,’ however it times like these Olivia didn’t feel the president should be granted one. That was part of the problem, she thought. Giving her leeway meant admitting she was inexperienced, and the blond doubted her readers would be filled with the upmost confidence with that omission.  

Reaching inside her hand bag she pulled out a box - taking out a card. To her, the whole process of exchanging business cards with out of date - but some traditions just refused to die in Washington.  

She extended it out for him to take. “Apologies I had to ask it’s my job - when you do feel it is an appropriate time, I’ll take you up on that offer. Have your office call, we’ll set it up.” 

“Absolutely fucking not.” he swirled his coffee furiously. Then, decided to add another pack of sugar, just in case. He looked at her in the eye squinting, to see if she was serious. “Off the records for me, you know that, sweetie.” How naive of her to try that move on him. Was she unaware that he was a journalist himself? That he was doing this try-to-quote-you shit even before she was even out of high school. “Unless you’re reconsidering that dinner date…?” He winked at her. He was against missed opportunities, so he saw everything as opportunities he couldn’t miss.

She laughed shaking her head, “like I said last time, give me something worth writing about and i’ll consider it,” she replied back. Obviously, Olivia was aware that Aaron knew the score, however she couldn’t help but push the older man’s buttons. She could never see herself working for the white house, but then again she could admit she hadn’t been in the game as long as he had - give it ten years and she might see things in a whole different light. “Besides you used to be one of us.”

he hums in response. was it an admission of agreement? perhaps.

talk always turns to soundbites where a reporter is involved. he didn’t have to venture into politics to become aware of that, what with having dealt with them expertly over the years. the press had a knack for clamouring around anyone with even the slightest sparkle to their name. his family had that, and much more.

“ first of all, i must apologise for being unreachable. ” she’d likely have heard the same thing several times over and would be able to ascertain that it was as truthful as staffers who covered for their bosses when they didn’t want to comment. “ and i endeavour to adequately meet the curiosity of your readers but i must ask what it is, specifically, that you want my opinion on. ” 

assumptions were costly in business, but deadly in the world of politics. so while he had a general sense of what she was getting at, his response hung on her elaboration. 

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, Olivia did so hate the political correctness of politicians - in her opinion they always came off disingenuous, the schooled carefulness in his tone shining through from years of experience. She licked her lips. “Not at all, we understand these are unprecedented times,” she replied politely.

It’s the same rehearsed line she’d been receiving from offices across the country. If this had been before the state of the union she would have unapologetically called them out, written an opinion piece about the breakdown of democracy starts with the exclusion of the fourth estate, however, normally had been thrown out the window. 

“Well senator, for the first time in this country’s history we have an unelected president, we’re all wondering what the opposition really makes of anderson,” she said. More than likely Olivia was expecting a diplomatic response, but she couldn’t help but ask. 

That wright was right about (pun unintended) normal had blown up with the State of the Union, however herself and other reporters craved the normalcy. It was hard for them to do their job when no one in the white house appeared to know what the fuck was going on - last time she’d been there it was like watching a bunch of lambs just waiting to be slathered. Olivia shrugged, “well bradbury isn’t taking my calls and your right here,” she replied. At this right the blond was starting to wonder if a snap election was on the cards sometime soon. “Is that quote-able? Vice president’s own chief of staff hasn’t got a clue what’s actually going on?” she smirked. 

Meghan’s thoughts on this morning’s spectacle at the Capitol? There’s no need to mince words: gross. And, frankly, she doesn’t think anyone is asking the right questions, like whose body it is and who killed them ( I mean, right? ) and how they were able to pull this little charade off, anyway. One would think that blowing up fifty percent of the world’s most powerful leaders would increase security measures around here, but clearly she’s the only one with any brain cells in this fucking city.

Meghan supposes she should thank the barista who took forever to make her latte this morning; she at least spared her from staring at a dead body at six in the morning. Of course, all this didn’t stop her from sharing a passionate string of tweets about the country’s need for better veteran services and the strength of their troops and all the accompanying nonsense. Naturally, her Twitter followers ate it up.

Anyway. Meghan stands at the steps of the Capitol Building, looking appropriately distressed for the occasion, lest any reporters choose to pan their cameras her way. She glances at the person to her left, seizing an opportunity. 

“Terrible, isn’t it?” She asks, her voice heavy. “I can’t help but think about their family.”

Olivia usually tried to think of these sort of things clinically, especially because she had a tendency to go to some pretty dark places if she let herself. “From what I’ve heard on the ground it’s been pretty brutal,” the blonde replied. 

Obviously Hernandez had been on the reporters radar for a while - she was the the representative for texas’ 30th district and as her home state she paid special attention when it came to who was running the show. Recently they had struck a quit pro quo with each other, Hernandez would call her whenever she had something in particular she needed to push and Olivia would make sure it ended up on the editors table. 

At the end of the day for her, getting the story first was the most important thing - and at times moseying up to politicians and making them think they were “friends” of sorts usually helped when it was crunch time and she needed a favour. “Personally I try not to think about it.”

Olivia rolled her eyes, aware that she wasn’t anyone’s favourite person. When you build your career asking the hard questions, winning popularity contests kind of goes out the window. “That’s anomalously vague,” she replied folding her arms tightly across her chest. “It’s not exactly standard practice for the white house to call a press briefing and not state a time.” She would say she was surprised, but some things never changed no matter the party in power - their distain for the media was one of them. “Come on,” she said titling her head. “You could at least tell me what the announcement is, blindsiding the press is never a good tactic.”

“ i would hope as much, ” he offers. it isn’t entirely comforting, nor remotely helpful— something he’s painfully aware of. if he cared more, he would seek to rectify his disposition. 

still, it wasn’t rude enough to warrant a second glance. that, and he was not exactly in charge of co-ordinating things around here. thank god for that.

while clayton wasn’t hotly anticipating another attack, and tried not to spend much time recalling the last one but thinking the state of the union was a one off didn’t set well with him. it would be a naïve assessment to make as well as serving as a disservice to the critical minds that inhabited their country and those beyond. “ are you—? nervous, i mean. ”

it’s a mild query, evidenced by the monotone delivery. was it intentional? not exactly. these were fresh waters, and overly calculating every single interaction may have been the approach some who have previously walked through these walls, but it was not the way he conducted himself.

Olivia turned towards the senator, brow raised. She had hoped her neves weren’t on display - perhaps he was merely asking because he himself was, she wasn’t entirely certain. A familiar uneasy feeling sat in her stomach as she stood next to the politician. It wasn’t him per-say, more her relationship with the republican party, and the trauma that had stemmed from her broken relationship with her parents. 

“Aren’t we all it’s a nerve wrecking time,” she answered. She settled for a version of the truth, because Olivia wasn’t in the business of lying. Showing emotion didn’t equate weakness, if revealed at the appropriate time.

 “It appears I’m in the right place at the right time senator rutherford, i’ve been trying to communicate with your office for some time. I know our readers would be interested to hear the opinion of the senate majority leader on unfolding events.” Despite working for a liberal media house, Olivia understood the importance of talking to all sides.

Olivia walked through clearance, having arrived clearly to try and scope out the situation - in her hands where two coffee’s, the third having been given to Bill one of the security guards. It was always good to keep on the right side of people who worked at the white house, it made things easier and usually gave the blonde more leeway. “Looks like I came right on time,” she said as she stood outside Caroline’s office. Olivia was hoping to have a word with the commutations officer before the conference started. “Have time for a chat?” she asked.

Olivia whips out her phone looking down to see the time. She’d just arrived, hoping to be able to take down a few notes before the press briefing started, flesh out a few questions she had for the white house. The last few months had been a blur, the newsroom in a constant state of chaos, everyone rushing, trying to get the story first. It was hard to breath at times let alone focus, but Olivia pushed aside her nervous. This wasn’t her first rodeo - since moving to Washington two years ago she’d covered her fair share of press conferences. The blonde was pulled out of her thoughts, recognising the familiar face of Amberly Gilmore. She clutched her note pad, she hadn’t expected to see the president’s press secretary out in the open. She shrugged, letting out a sigh. “No more than you,” she replied. “The white house hasn’t exactly been forth coming as of late.”

olivia jean shepherd is a reporter for political wire - she took up the post a year and a half ago in late 2018, after working for the Boston Globe for two years. olivia is a no nonsense reporter who is unafraid of asking the hard questions if it means pulling the truth from people, even if it can make her unpopular at times. she isn’t there to be anyone’s friends, she’s there to look out for the interests of the american people.