perfectly political

On and off, Julian checks in with the leader of state whom he’d set out to honor tonight. Lockwood’s ideas all coming to fruition around them, all of which had produced utmost praise from the First Family — communicated directly to his own. Now again he steps away, the cue of people who wait for their turn spiking up in anticipation. 

His assistant mutters notes into Julian’s ear — the essentials. Guest approval, those still left to greet, and a sea of diplomatic questions he would allow to simmer in his head for just a while longer. In the in-between, he spots one who is likewise vacant. A less prideful and self-indulgent man would perhaps have taken this opportunity for a simple smoke break, but a different vice awaits. He takes a step closer.

“Senator Sanford,” he greets the man, offering a hand. They’d done this before, a million times over. “Or should I say, Vice Presidential candidate?” Given the last meeting between the two of them, the new title didn’t entirely come as a surprise — if anything, he’d expected Silas to seek a second best —, but the way it was delivered. Julian would be a fool not to assume it to be a personal jab at him, not even by Bell, but Sanford himself. Retaliation, if you will. “...I do hope you don’t have anything planned for tonight. You wouldn’t want to look desperate.” 

“I- Thank you, Mr. President, that means a lot to hear, coming from you,” Charlie said in response to the compliment. It meant a lot that the President believed them to be intelligent, even if he followed the complement up with a bookend about idealism. And yes, Charlie knew that he was an idealist - especially by today’s standards, but they also knew that this bill was… well…. rational. 

“But that’s the thing,” Charlie says, noting the question of where the funding was coming from. “The BUILD Program, which is what states are currently using to help subsidize these projects anyway, already has a budget of 2 billion dollars of funding that we’ve deemed discretionary. This money only gets divided up between the states that apply for it. Which means some states could be getting away with just… not applying for it at all. And even if that 2 billion is divided evenly, it still gives 40 million dollars to each state to invest in, or to begin to invest in eco-friendly transportation. It isn’t like governments aren’t already investing in these kinds of methods of transportations, either. Before I was elected, a lot of my work in DC was as a liaison for numerous states in regards to writing BUILD grants with engineers and officials. The problem isn’t with the desire to do it, it’s the fact that it’s considered discretionary…” Charlie trails. He knows the bill seems much more ambitious than it is, but they wonder if people are only concerned because they don’t know that the money already exists in a different way. 

“Forgive me for being blunt,” they said, taking a small breath, “but if we don’t make changes, we’re going to be running into a whole new set of problems in the next ten years. I’ve done the research personally, and there isn’t a solution where this country comes out on top without some major and immediate changes. I’d argue that even this is a small step - I mean, the least we can do is begin to reallocate the funding that’s already there. Even if the bill passes with the amendment that we just re-allocate the BUILD funds, that sets a precedent that investing in eco-conscious transportation is important and necessary. And we’ve thought about the logistics. About how this could take away from states who might need more funding vs less funding, but as long as a ratio basis is put into place, where states who need the funds are receiving adequate amounts, then I think this is a completely feasible bill - Congress just has to look at it the right way,” Charlie shrugged. The bill wasn’t really about the funding, was what Charlie was really trying to say - the bill was about how the country views climate change initiatives. And that included Berkeley.

“I mean, I wouldn’t ever be risking penning a bill I didn’t believe in. But I’m also Manhattan. My projected vote percentage is near 80%, we’ve been democratic for the last hundred years and my constituents want to see meaningful action. Still, there’s a reason I’m fighting climate change right now and not trying to pass major legislation on trans rights…” Charlie said. The implication was there, re-allocating funds that already existed was easier than trying to convince half of congress and the country that they should pass major legislation in support of a community they wanted to believe didn’t exist. 

“I understand,” Julian says — somewhat meaning it. At the very least, he hopes to be. “I know we must make changes now, to make things better in the future. It’s what my presidency, should I be re-elected, is all about. And I agree with you Charlie, one-hundred-percent. But I’m just trying to think, how do we get the rest of them to think this way also?” 

While Julian might view it an specific way, there were many other angles in which such an initiative could be regarded from. That was something that escaped his grip entirely. His voters, as well as Wright’s, as well as everyone else’s. It isn’t a one-blanket demographic. “I’m just saying, Charlie, there’s a need to know where these funds will be coming from — where they’re’ll be a deduction from. Most likely, your voters will agree; but it needs to be disclosed. And, depending on your goal, I do believe a higher budget will be needed, if you want all of it to come into effect as soon as possible. The faster you want it, the harder it will be to achieve.” 

“Whether it’s climate change or trans rights, you know I stand with you, Charlie.” Julian offers, sympathetic in the way he nods. “But from an administrative point of view, I’m simply trying to see how well this can do in the polls — realistically.” He adds: “Sometimes, we have to sacrifice a thing or two, to get the bigger picture out there, beyond the smaller scale and flaws on the canvas. To get the public on your side, is an entirely new deal altogether.” 

Charlie nods, feels themselves laugh a little bit. “I have a feeling I’m headed down the same path, unless something drastically changes,” they shrug. It was rare for Charlie to find complete support on their own side of the party, let alone across the aisle. “It’s the working version of my dissertation on practical actions for environmental sustainability. It’s a first-step kind of bill, but I don’t know if I’ll have enough support for it. Coles Notes is that it breaks down the current BUILD grant program, and redistributes those funds into the states. The caveat is, though, that a portion of each state’s transportation funding would be required to be used for environmentally-friendly and eco-conscious transportation innovation - bike paths, streetcars, the like. It’s going to be a tough one to pass, but it’s a step we have to take if we want to take re-adjusting our society towards a sustainable future seriously. We can’t be relying on discretionary funds to finance these projects.”

I’ve been in DC for nearly twenty years, Julian had said only minutes prior. Thank God for every second. Every gaze he’d had to hold with unfaltering intent, every lie, every smile that had been crafted not for real life, but for the cameras. Thank God for it now. 

Throughout Charlie’s explanation, Julian holds a stable façade, that of a simple listener. He remembers Wright’s own Green Energy Bill, and how he had — behind the scenes of course — plotted against it. It made for a perfect fall, her very first, and hiccups would continue to follow. While Julian could pretend to care for the environment, and to some extent he did, he wasn’t so blind as to think one could have a successful career or government without some aid from the ones holding the keys to the banks. One must count on the Republican vote, even if that is not the demographic they want to please. So back then, he’d served as a bridge between her nonsensical bill and the Republicans, making key amendments after the bill’s first failure on the Floor so that it could come to pass. Not that this is written down in history. Much to the contrary, it remains unknown to most of those who weren’t there at the time. 

It’s utopian, is Julian’s first thought. But he must remember, this isn’t his bill. Nor Wright’s. If it succeeds or if it fails, the repercussions would fall on someone else — at least this time. 

But even if he wishes to blindly believe in Charlie now, it’s difficult to shut off the part of his brain familiar with this type of management. He’d been at it for far too long after all, and not only are the technicalities ingrained into his brain, Julian has also learned not to dream so large. 

“It’s a very bold idea,” Julian says after a moment of consideration, thumb under his chin. He’s honest. “’A portion of each state’s transportation funding‘. Where would that be coming from? You’d have to take it away from one of their segments. It sounds simple, but it’s not cheap. Bike lanes can cost up to six figures, depending on the city, the neighborhood. Multiply that by the size of each state and it can hardly fit in the budget. You’d need to put a percentage to it, and a timeframe. ‘35% of a city’s streets to incorporate bike lanes by 2023’, or whatever your research says is reasonable. If you go too high, you might need to ask for a higher budget, too. Other means of transportation are a whole new beast altogether.” 

Charlie smiles as the President motions for him to move into the office. They’ve rarely stepped foot in the carpeted room, and they can feel their stiletto heels sink slightly into the carpet. They take a seat on the couch opposite Julian, gently guiding their skirt to fall nicely onto the couch, putting a comfortable conversational distance between the two of them. He can’t help but notice how much Julian looks like how he does in the media.

“Well, Mr. President, I guess you could say there’s a couple of things on my plate right now. Finishing up my PhD, working on a proposal for a new bill, but most importantly, I want to ensure you and Zafar get re-elected. If I have the opportunity to continue to take up a seat here on Capitol Hill again, I can assure you right now the Republican Party certainly won’t entertain my ideas in the way the Democrats will.”

“I appreciate it,” Julian says, honest. Although any and all support was up in the air right now, with people leaning all sort of unexpected ways, he had hoped Charlie would stay by their side — but wouldn’t be all that shocked if such a decision were to shift at the last minute. As far as he knows, Julian and Oliver’s America is the only one that’s set to accommodate Charlie, and all those who share the same platform as the three of them do. Not in his wildest dreams, could he picture a meeting between William and them, skirt and heels and all, in which the result was positive. Now that might mean Julian is sacrificing the percentage of Americans that doubt Charlie’s ways, but now is the time when he has to choose between appeasing to the masses, and sticking to his own beliefs. Verdict’s not out yet. Not that it shows. “I’ve been in DC for nearly twenty years, not once have Republicans entertained any of my own ideals.” He offers, half joking. Although they had agreed on certain issues from time to time, it had only been convenience — or much expert chess playing. “What is this bill you are working on, if I may ask?” 

   Nasir was finishing a conversation with an author of a book that had recently been released that he had greatly enjoyed, and was getting ready to just about call it a night, as he was preparing to go off to find his jacket, and make his grand escape from the White House Correspondent’s Dinner when he felt a hand make contact with his back. Thinking he was in someone’s way, he was turning to apologize and make way for them when he realized who it was. Just barely preventing his mouth from hanging open at the realization of who it was. He quickly smiled a little, nodding a little at the joke, he let a soft chuckle escape from his lips as he tried to find words that were suddenly escaping him.  

   “Mr. President, I- thank you, it’s nice to be making your acquaintance too. I’m a long time admirer of yours.” Looking over the President as if to make sure it was actually him, Nasir couldn’t help but rub at the back of his neck. “You know you’re always welcomed on the show, or ya know I could always pull up to the White House, and we could just do an interview there. I think we’d always be willing to find room for you, sir.” 

Julian smiles, “Likewise.”

He pulls back then, allowing again for a fair amount of intimacy — though none too grand — as he listens to Nasir, hands clasped at his front. “I’ve been generally advised to avoid live shows,” he says, as though gossiping, ever cheekily eyeing Ginny from across the venue, warmth in the way he eyes her. “But I’m sure we could make room for you. As I do for everything I believe in.” 

It wasn’t every day that Charlie had the chance to sit down with Julian Berkeley, but with the campaign beginning to heat up, Charlie wanted to make sure he was doing everything he could to ensure that the current President and VP stayed in office. To be honest, he didn’t expect to talk to the President himself, moreover someone like Amanda as a go-between, but he was pleasantly surprised when he had gotten there to be directed right to Julian. “President Berkeley,” Charlie said as they walked into the office, extending their manicured hand. “A pleasure to sit down and chat with you.”

[ @presidentberkeley​ ] 

“Representative Keeting,” Julian greets them, all bright smiles — down to every pixel, the one they’d witnessed on TV — if only to stick to protocol, and the fantasy built. “Likewise. I’m always happy to see people such as you pushing the cause forward. I admire your work greatly. Please,” Julian motions to the rest of the room, “take a seat.” 

As expected, such terms are loose at best. Julian knows it’s his role to lead the way and so he does, sinking down into one of the broad Oval Office couches, motioning for Charlie to claim whichever spot they like. “I have followed your career along, of course — but am ever eager to know what comes next.” Julian smiles. It’s bright, American. Presidential. By now, he’s nailed it down to detail. “Talk to me, Charlie. Have you any wishes, any concerns?”