adamconnelly·:
open starter
Even late into the evening, the muggy Washington heat was feeling near stifling, and a room packed to the brim with people, a full meal, and a tightly-tailored suit jacket didnât really help matters all that much. So the jacket had been abandoned at the table, his collar opened just a little bit as he stepped out the nearest door for even the hope of a slight breeze. Though that was too much to ask for, he at least was able to get a little piece and quiet from all the chatter inside. Naturally, that didnât last, and Adam was quick to stamp out the cigarette he had half-finished as the door opened - not unlike a kid caught by his mother. It was, after all, hypocritical in some respects for the man who had advocated for tobacco restrictions to be caught with his second cigarette in a row.
âHavenât missed any speeches, have I?â He asked, hands in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels. âSwear Iâm not tryinâ to hide from anything but the heat. Except maybe a drunk reporter from Buzzfeed. I think she was tryinâ to hit on me.â
Every year the Correspondentsâ Dinner rolls around in the midst of a warm DC summer, and every year Felix is reminded why itâs one of his favorite events of the season. See, with other events, networking can so easily become a hassle. People are spread out, talking amongst each other, buzzing with energy, easily distracted - the list of inconveniences went on. With this dinner, however, people were nicely organized in seating charts that Felix had access to, and in between speeches, they were so ready to blow their brains out from boredom that they would take any excuse to briefly talk with Felix or even step out of the room for a longer conversation. If anything, it at least saved Felix the hassle of trying to force his way through a secretary into a politicianâs schedule.Â
So it comes as an inconvenience more than anything when Felix realizes heâs itching for a cigarette. Heâs not addicted - really, heâs not, he swears heâs got enough control of himself to not be - but hours of rubbing elbows always gets him craving for a smoke to mellow him out. He figures he can spare a few moments anyway, and in between two speeches, he slips out inconspicuously for a quick smoke, only to find someoneâs already out there. âJust a couple, but I donât think any of these speeches are going to be bringing home a Pulitzer.â With the smell of a cigarette still in the air, heâs not sheepish when he goes on to ask, âDo you have another cigarette on you? I usually carry one or two around just in case, but I only remembered a lighter this time around.â Then, a reassurance he can already anticipate: âDonât worry, I wonât tell The Hill youâre violating all thatâs sacred about your own tobacco bill. Just because I rallied for gun control doesnât mean Iâve never stepped foot in a shooting range.â Actually, he hasnât, and he considers shooting a gun for the fun of it to be the most primal thing a man can do with his free time. But like any good politician, he knows itâs about establishing trust, about coming off as one of the guys, and he figures that Connelly and all his other borderline-redneck counterparts south of the Mason-Dixon Line thought manhood to be synonymous with going pew pew on the weekends.Â










