@senatorli

  “Senator.” If her guest was not under extreme duress, the appointment would have been held in the Senator’s office, under whatever terms she desired; but they were now engaged in awkward conversation on Rory’s turf, the former seated in a lone chair before the latter. The email leak led way to a myriad of probing questions into the details of Rory’s personal life - whilst Vivian’s sparkling career had lost a hint of its veneer, as detractors claimed her unfaithful to Julian. Rory’s eyes fell upon Vivian’s face without trace of distrust or dislike; as always, she retained a great deal respect and admiration for the Senator. Julian’s personal agenda regarding the woman had yet to be unfolded, and his feelings regarding the private betrayal (some claimed it to be a stab in the back - while others quietly agreed with Vivian’s dismay, over being denied VP). But the fact remained that Rory needed to quickly and seamlessly repair the damage inflicted by the leak - Vivian, returning kissed by the glory of California’s sun, was a prime target on her to-do list. “I confess, I’m not sure where to begin. I know these last weeks have been as taxing for you, as for me - so, I’m not looking for apologies, reasons, etc. I want solutions, for President Berkeley - for you.” The Republicans had suffered a bitter defeat with the passing of Julian’s radical bill; and so they pounced upon the bill with vigor, seeking to destroy any momentum incurred by the gun legislation. “For the greater good, and all that jazz.” 

If her tail was between her legs, it was hidden beneath the sharp tailoring of today’s custom suit. The awkwardness of the situation could be dealt with, it could be ignored and managed and worked through. What was important that she was sharing these uncomfortable spaces in the first place - the White House was just as eager to fix the news cycle as she was. As of this moment, it appeared the responsibility fell on the shoulders of one Ms Moskowitz. That was another flash of their hand, if their bluff had to be so strong. And so capable. “Yes yes, we can move past all that and get to business. You know that had I wanted any of this public, it would be. If wounds need to be licked then so be it, but let’s have it all behind closed doors.” 

I’m bisexual and I’m proud of it.  Brown eyes widened hearing the phrase, repeated to her by the agent directly to her right.  “I want security maxed, now.  Discreetly,” she spoke into her earpiece, quickly, and clear enough for her neighbour to hear.  The timing for a public confession was never a good one, but right on the debate podium…it felt like the a catastrophe waiting to happen.  The same statement cost her a senate seat in the 90s, among the more serious attempt on her life, and she couldn’t let that happen to the President, of all people.  She’s out the back door in seconds, fumbling for a cigarette in her purse to light up while she waited for backup to trickle in.

After a few minutes, she smudged it out on the edge of a trashcan.  Turned around just in time to see someone approaching her.  “Looking for a little fresh air?”  I might have just polluted it.  She nodded towards the doors.  “What do you think about the answers so far?”

“Nowadays that wins you votes,” Vivian commented, sensing the tension wafting up with the smoke. But she didn’t have to be much of a mind reader knowing Anne’s past, or her own hidden one that had filled her stomach with a . similar sense of dread. The Senator sometimes wished she had learnt from the woman’s bravery in coming out, rather than taking her loss as a stark warning. ‘Until then every answer seemed like they were too nervous to say anything interesting.”

Suspended in a moment of memory, Celeste imagined the sensation of comforting touch, a brief examination of what could be — no, what had been. Vivian was a familiar face in her mind’s eye, and yet impossibly distant as the two women stood near each other now. Her reverie brought along with it the keenest sense of trauma, all at once inescapable and wholly demanding in its need to be addressed.

“Suit yourself,” Celeste replied and shot the drink back, quick and burning as it went down. Trauma addressed, and now drowned. “Scotch, wasn’t it?” She asked tepidly, already knowing the answer to Vivian’s choice in alcohol as she poured the dark amber liquid. She extended the glass tumbler to her former client, not quite an olive branch, but not entirely a bitter pill to swallow either. Just scotch. Just small talk. “No ice here, but there’s suddenly quite a chill in the room to keep it cold.” Perhaps not just small talk, after all.

She pitied Celeste because that was far easier than pitying herself. She pitied her for her innocence, and misplaced morals and because she gave up. There was an army of people in this town who could be heard referring to Vivian Li as their mentor in boastful conversations at this very moment. They were various in their appearance and achievement but all shared characteristics of the young women in front of her. Few had been quite so disappointing. She could handle those that failed to meet her goals, she didn’t look kindly of those that rejected them outright. It was a wonder she had remained around long enough to be back in a room with the Senator, no doubt her mother had given a helping hand.

The scotch was a nice touch. Could she take credit for such a move? She would anyway. “Thank you,” she answered, needing to drink to deal with all the elements left of her evening. “It’s better neat,” was all she had in reply, if Celeste wanted to have a real conversation she’d have to approach it as such. 

Blunt words fill the room before Anne can even sit down herself, so she stands, taking them all in at once.  She understands Vivian’s anger, and tries to stay calm, professional.  A fight won’t help solve the situation.  “My job is to brief the President on all intelligence matters and to take care of any misconduct within the Intelligence Community.”  Ideally, they wanted to stop everything, but you could ride a bike a thousand times and still fall and scrape your knee.

She may as well be honest about what she knew when it directly involved the woman in front of her.  “I advised an investigation that went underway before the newspapers went out this afternoon.  I can tell you that we know it was an internal leak, and emails were BCC’d to white house staff.  We believe it was a staff member who posted the emails online, or someone in close contact with one.”  She shuffles a bit on her heels, an unease when the subpoena is mentioned.  A little extreme, don’t you think, Vivian?  “I’ll keep you updated, Senator.”

“Just a staff member. Someone’s leaking from the White House and they could have clocked into work today?” The sooner there was a new face on this story, the better. Then she could get to work on what bits she didn’t want to completely cover up. Secretly, it was a shame it wasn’t a more interesting story, it at least kept the focus on the White House but there was far more public appetite for some kind of foreign interference. “What measures should I be taking in the meantime?” she asked, checking her phone periodically as she spoke, the buzzing incessant since she woke up.

“Now…who in their right mind did not expect this bill to pass in this century?” The Chief Justice asked no one - eyes looking down at the Washington Post’s most recent front page story. The headline blared in the woman’s mind: President Berkeley Makes History! With her lips puckered, the blonde finally placed the paper down before picking up her steaming latte. Blue Bottle of course - no less. “I expected nothing less from him.” 

“We’re barely 20 years in, give a little credit,” Vivian sighed, not yet having taken the time to recover from all the wining and dining it took to push the bill through. She wasn’t exactly giving Julian much credit, in her slightly sleep-deprived smug delirium it didn’t say President Berkeley on that headline. “Your hero moment will come darling, I can hear the lower court briefs being filed from here.”

She reacted as the papers were being released hot off the press, calling the Director of Air Force Intelligence to start taking care of the exposed restricted airspace expansion plans.  The rest of the security matters, on their part, would just require require something ‘more’.  More backups, more bodies, more taken from the budget.  Pre-clearances, schedule and location adjustments.  The ‘windows check up’ renamed to ‘patrolling the panes’.  BCC’ing emails temporarily disabled for usa.gov and wh.gov until they discovered the source of the mix up leading to the leak.  The rest was out of her control.  

“We’re doing out utmost to resolve this,” she assured, waiting for her guest to follow her into a conference room where there were glasses and a pitcher of water waiting in the middle of the table.  “Please, have a seat and a drink, if you wish.  I’ll gladly hear your questions and concerns.”

The Virginian senator certainly wasn’t celebrating news of the Disarmament Bill being passed, but he, and the circle of Republican congressmen who staunchly attempted to quash the bill, clung to the hope that a successful passing did not mean a successful execution of the bill, and there were still various stumbling blocks imposed that prodded Berkeley to fuck up. Still, that didn’t mean Luka would pass up the opportunity to be seen in the wake of the bill’s passing, his face splashes on various articles that depicted the senators who’d voted No. “I’m guessing my Ak-47 wouldn’t be allowed here either, then.” He reached into his coat and produced a bottle of wine, procured from the depths of the St James’ own august collection. “Kidding. You look wonderful, Li, and this is for you.” 

It was a wonder what a change in mood could do to her tolerance. In particular her tolerance for men like Luka. She did already have a considerable immunity to him given years and years of exposure. 25 years did wonders as a vaccination. But the last few months had seen her particularly high strung - in a state where even a gun related joke would have been enough to send her off that high wire. Not today, though. Not when Zeus could strike her down in her step and she’d still be happy standing there with a cold glass in her hand. “Thank you Luka. I’ll have to hide this away before the vultures descend, unless you’d like a glass now?”

She had been discussing with a few other senators - mostly about the disgrace that is the disarmament act. Although she counts herself as being unaffiliated when it comes to politics, Joan still voiced her opinion where she saw it mattered. This disarmament act mattered. To Joan, she felt as though the bill took away a basic right - although these are thoughts she would keep to herself. For now. She found herself following a couple of those senators to the office of Senator Li. Upon hearing the woman’s requests, Joan couldn’t help but chuckle. “No worries - I’m just here to enjoy a glass of bourbon on the rocks.” 

Her drinks cart was serving a whole host of functions in this moment. For those starting an evening of celebrations, those looking for one drink to toast the vote, there was no reason it couldn’t serve commissary drinks too. Not that Vivian made any effort to stress that as she came in contact with a few of those she had considered opponents a few hours ago. Especially for those like Joan, who’s allegiance flipped like a switch depending on the issues and the race. One day she couldn’t be a crucial ally on Vivian’s road to the White House - and it was that thought that decorated the smile on her face. “Welcome, welcome. Let me get that for you myself. I hope you’re well, it’s been too long.”

Her opinion on the bill wasn’t a strong one and she hadn’t tried to influence the outcome, instead focusing on other areas of foreign security.  Her job now was just to make sure the votes were counted fairly in the electronic realm.  If she was still a Maryland senator, Anne would have voted for it with the amendment.  The lack of an age change would at least settle the moderates.  “I don’t think I can manage getting rid of the recorder, Senator, as much as I’d like to respect your office rules,” she smiled, indicating the little earpiece hidden behind her ear.  With so many politicians in one place for the vote, security had been maxed. “Congratulations.  Everyone worked hard on this bill,” she prepped for a handshake.

Felix came into his office this morning with a full stack of appearance requests on his left and headlines to address on his right, and though he knows logically that he’s been working the entire morning, he looks at the paperwork on his desk now and it somehow feels like more than what he faced when he first got in. The public profile of a Senator and a Vice President was no easy feat, trust and believe, but a President feels like a whole other monster, an image that hangs on a tightrope just waiting to be tipped over by the slightest breeze. It’s manageable (for Felix, it’s never allowed to not be), but it’s certainly giving him a migraine on this particular Wednesday morning.

He glances at the clock on his wall, and though he’s technically got another half hour until he should be taking his lunch break, he forgoes the logistics of time in favor of a break. “I’m heading out, Spencer! Forward my calls!” he calls to his secretary as he grabs his wallet from his bag and heads towards the door.

He pushes his office door open with every intention of leaving for the next hour or so, only to be met by a familiar face right outside the door. “If it’s about the reelection or the bill or the Bachelorette finale, the Administration has no comment,” he says as he closes the door behind him. “For anything else, you’re welcome to follow me to lunch outside. I’ll pay.” 

There had been so much to disentangle following her meeting with Julian. Not least her belief that he was about to pick a Republican as his number two. Somehow what had stung the most was the knowledge that it was their similarities that kept her from joining him in the West Wing. All that did separate them and their careers after all was her years more of experience and seniority. However, it was only a few wasteful hours of self-pity before she flipped that all of its head. They had been connected for so long, that was what got her in the door, she hadn’t thrown away that advantage completely yet.

With a convenient lunch break around the corner, she grabbed her purse and headed towards the office of an old friend. She had known Felix for as long as she had Julian. Perhaps loyalty meant a little to him than it did his boss. At worst, she wouldn’t head back to her office knowing any less. “I only ask that you speak as you and not your special ventriloquism for the President. And you know I’ll pay,” she said after running into Felix before even having time to enter his office.

There was something rabidly personal gnawing at Celeste as her gaze scanned over the comments section of the POTUS’ most recent Instagram photoset. The occasional bout of vitriol popped up underneath the photos, a carefully curated collection that featured the Berkeleys standing with as diverse a group of journalists, government officials, and businesspersons as Celeste could manage to wrangle together, given that the function now winding down was a meager $15,000 a plate. It wasn’t personal, of course, not for the President and First Lady. From Celeste’s vantage point, the phrase ‘water off a duck’s back’ seemed to belong to the Berkeleys more than anyone else in Washington — but that was a quality she’d never learned, instead choosing to fight with fire even when met with gasoline.

Slowly but surely, Washington was schooling her in the art of patience, with this new job providing constant excersises in restraint. But now, it was a distraction she was in need of. As the MC concluded his remarks, she hunched over an unattended bar cart in the corner of the generously-sized banquet hall, and worked furiously on a mixture she was never quite satisfied with. Brows furrowed, then softened, and tensed once more as the big band played in the background, a soothing complement as her mind bandied ingredients about after each new taste test.

“Try this for me?” Celeste asked pleasantly, holding out the generously-filled glass. “With an ounce of imagination, it should taste something like a Commonwealth.”

It was rare to find Vivian at any dinner beyond the final course being served. It was a practised routine how she was graciously excuse herself just as the digestifs were placed down by gloved hand. If she was lucky, a work emergency would appear even before dinner and she could slip out even earlier. It wasn’t like she ate carbs anyway. But on this particularly boresome evening, there was a few donors she needed to still grab some face time. And perhaps a conversation with Julian would be useful. For now she was pressed to the back of the room, not willing to waste her time with anyone she wasn’t there purposefully to see.

She had assumed the woman standing in the shadows by the drinks was on staff. Some closer attention made it obvious that that was incorrect - but it had already led to an unexpected encounter. “I can’t say I know what a Commonwealth is meant to taste like,” she replied. “And I don’t have much desire to find out,” she added, making no moves to accept the drink. Celeste seemed comfortable engaging with her out of blue now she had made it all the way to the White House. But Vivian wasn’t too interested in acting as if they were old friends, even if it had reached the slightly strange and wonderful portion of the evening.

“We’ll discuss it, yes,” Julian assures her, already going over the names in his head — the faces that would make up this meeting. Vivian, Daniel, Benjamin, the rest of the Senate leaders. Leon, perhaps, if he was up for a challenge and a fight against wolves. “A meeting should come up in the following days, and we’d announce it just before the Senate voting for the Disarmament Act. It should give us an advantage, seeing as the Vice President’s seat would be vacant and that he’s compliant with the bill. He can make up some of the… indecisive Republican minds.” Bipartisanship could be useful, after all. 

Julian didn’t know that, in fact. He’d always held Vivian to high regard, but others did him, also— and he knew this game too well to deem it as simple as black and white. 

“I know. And thank you, Vivian.” He gives into a small smile, softer around the edges than the one she was probably used to seeing on TV. “I promise your support isn’t misplaced. And I appreciate it — greatly. We don’t have to talk about that now, but I just wanted to let you know, early on, that that door is open.”

He had half of her attention. The words registered just long enough for the meaning to impart, simultaneously she was making a great deal many decisions. Some to do with the gun bill he brought up, most were more personal. That was until the word complaint did far more than register. It refused to fly in one ear and out the other, rattling her nerves as much as it did around her head. From that alone she could have drawn the conclusion his next statement made certain. He was a Senator and none of her Senators were compliant. She didn’t work with compliance, if the hesitant among them didn’t leave her office thinking they genuinely supported the bill than she wasn’t fit for job, for her reputation.

A Republican. She was currently operating under a very tightly controlled degree of anger. That she hadn’t raised her voice yet was only due to years of patient training. That he brushed over it...it would no longer be congressional leadership she would be contacting after, this had gotten far bigger than that.

“Your pick isn’t from our party?” Vivian stated through clenched jaw, though framed as a question. The 53 mainly white faces flashed through her mind. Most dropped quickly from possibility - too conservative, too old, too irrelevant to be worth such an idiotic move. One stood out - for obvious reasons - but she couldn’t bring herself to settle on the name. She would have to hear it from Julian himself. 

Pilar’s smirk grew wider hearing her confusion - her foot moving to the beat of its own drum. Her fist rested against her head as she continued to entertain what Senator Li had to say. “My unique perspective?” The brunette asked, pursing her lips. Her arms soon crossed over her chest as she squinted her eyes. “What could possibly be unique about my perspective?” She asked quietly - spotting an unopened bottle of champagne near the bar fridge. Her ability to find comfort is others discomfort was natural at this point. Lifting the bottle, she acknowledged Vivian. “Do you mind?” She asked - although it seemed more like a statement seeing as though she already began peeling the foil from the bottle’s top. 

“I won’t stay mincing my words, I don’t have the time as fun as this is,” Vivian replied. “I know what you do Ms Vercio, in fact in many ways I admire it. You’ve taken the worst part of my job, having to entertain uninteresting people. And that suggests to me that you must be a very talented woman,” she spelled out, doing her best to not appear condescending. Sure some of this was for show, she was here to get something. But there were plenty of avenues for that, she only took the ones she thought worthwhile. “I want to know if you are interested in using those talents for even more,” she added, falling into a groove.  “Help yourself,” Vivian answered with a nod, picking up two glasses from on top of the bar and turning them over. She could indulge, she was firmly off the clock after all. Off the clock and off the books.

It was very much like her that she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she was wasting time - something that had never settled with her well, even if it was well-intended. She tried to fight the feeling, leaving her heels under her desk and nodding along as she looked up at Vivian. “I think you know me too well,” she countered as she stood, still a little puzzled but open to it. “But that sounds great. I’ll follow your lead just about anywhere, you know that.” She moved around her desk, shouldering her purse - at least grateful she was wearing slacks today. The boots didn’t match, but she’d just have to take it. “Lead the way, Senator.”

If there was one place they could walk without any stares in DC it was through the West Wing. Quickly into the car afterwards, it was only arriving at ‘Kraken Aces’ that there were a few confused glances. They couldn’t even hide behind a fake name on the booking because Vivian had forgotten that detail. Usually her assistant purposefully even included her title in order to get the best table or automatic flight upgrades. It wasn’t easy to keep up the secret with the blaring neon sign outside, she just hoped she hadn’t completely missed the mark (and wouldn’t later with one of the axes). “I’d say trust me but I don’t quite know what’s about to happen. But I’ve heard it’s a lot of fun.”