Come around and try to stomp on our ground

[viced]

WHO: Mitchell and Raina
WHERE: Senator's Office, Washington D.C.
WHEN: Sunday Aug 27th
WHAT: exchanging services
WARNINGS: none



Mitchell drummed his fingers against his desk, agitated. The mug of coffee was stained with a dark black ring from the number of times he'd refueled in the past few days, and the stack of physical letters was only halfway through, as he pulled out sheaf after sheaf of paper, trying to write a response to every single letter -- and this was only dwarfed by the number of emails he'd gotten. It wasn't just his constituents, of course, as the only import Senator, he represented... all imports, really. He had the pleasure of being the import that everyone looked to, when they had problems with the community. Even other Senators had occupied their time, giving him talk after talk after talk about their grievances with the community. Particularly lately, with the recent surge of grievances.

"Senator?" one of the aides poked her head in, and Mitchell's head swung up. He'd been -- in another place, clearly, his fingers stilled over a blank piece of paper, still, his head elsewhere while it drifted through the chorus of ever-present mechanical sounds around him. "You have a visitor," she went on, ignoring the look from the senator. This was normal, after all. "Should I let her in?"

Mitchell, in all of his wisdom, just waved a hand, as if to say it was fine, and he started to cap his pen, and put his paper away. He rubbed at his chin, and stifled a yawn. He really needed to not stay up late working tonight, even though he knew he'd do exactly that.

Comments

[flowerette]

"Senator." Raina stepped inside the office, wearing a little smile of greeting. She waited for the aide to close the door behind her before sauntering over to one of the seats and making herself right at home. Her purse was tucked to the side, one leg swung over the other, and her attention lingered on him. "I hope it's not a bad time..."

His yawn. His exhaustion. Being pulled every which way. Well, she can imagine any time was usually a bad time because he was always in the middle of something.

"I promise you, though. You need to hear what I have to say. I had a vision. This one about you."

[viced]

"About me?"

His head swung up, surprised.

It cleared the exhaustion from his face -- like a second wind had just breathed life into him -- the kind of thing that made his entire body thrum with an alertness that had just been missing. Mitchell operated on a low-level of exhaustion most days, and he hid it well, unless it was a rare moment of weakness... but the moment passed quick enough, and his palms flattened to his desk.

"I don't know if I like the sound of you having a vision. I assume you're going to share?" a pause, and he stood. "Coffee?"

wings it!!! idk let me know if this works

[flowerette]

She nodded. Sure. Coffee was always appreciated. Raina, too, often didn't sleep enough between working ridiculous hours, side projects and Chilton. She waited for him to pour their cups before starting to speak. "The Senator for Oregon is conspiring against you. He's hated that an imPort is in office and has plans to see you removed before you serve a second year. I have seen him talking to an anti-imPort group. At some point in October, they plan on staging both a devastating attack and a disastrous clean up in De Chima, and then frame you for it as the one trying to make yourself look better by cleaning the mess and failing."

Raina shook her head slowly. "It sounds a bit ridiculous, but he has gone out of his way to fabricate paperwork, network logs, and other incriminating evidence." A pause and she took a sip of her coffee. "The good news is that he's up for reelection this November. So you have the potential to ensure he doesn't get reelected by sidestepping all of this and possibly exposing it."

Or using the knowledge for blackmail. However Mitch rolled.

this is perfect!! I AM THE WORST THO

[viced]

Mitchell paused, his fingers curled around the coffee cup as he considered the words. Behind him, an analog clock ticked the seconds, and he heard the other layers, the whispers from the machine. He had never been really all that open about his powers, and it was...refreshing to think about the fact that this might work in his favor.

"He is," he said, his voice almost eerily dry, devoid from emotion. It wasn't hurt -- not really. Mitchell was the sort that was so used to the workings of Washington that this was just another bump in the road. He'd been an ex-Superhero Presidential candidate, after all. Not to mention the...other secrets he squirreled away. He hid things for a reason. This was one of them.

"Well, I guess I'll have to start listening to the good senator's information a little more closely," he said, a sharp inhale. "Do we know what sort of attack it is, or where to look?"