nefarious

felix oliveira. white house director of communications. democrat. player.

[felixoliveira]

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 didn’t 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 didn’t 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.

“Haven’t missed any speeches, have I?” He asked, hands in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels. “Swear I’m not tryin’ to hide from anything but the heat. Except maybe a drunk reporter from Buzzfeed. I think she was tryin’ to hit on me.”

Every year the Correspondents’ Dinner rolls around in the midst of a warm DC summer, and every year Felix is reminded why it’s 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 politician’s schedule. 

So it comes as an inconvenience more than anything when Felix realizes he’s itching for a cigarette. He’s not addicted - really, he’s not, he swears he’s 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 someone’s already out there. “Just a couple, but I don’t think any of these speeches are going to be bringing home a Pulitzer.” With the smell of a cigarette still in the air, he’s not sheepish when he goes on to ask, “Do 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.” Then, a reassurance he can already anticipate: “Don’t worry, I won’t tell The Hill you’re violating all that’s sacred about your own tobacco bill. Just because I rallied for gun control doesn’t mean I’ve never stepped foot in a shooting range.” Actually, he hasn’t, 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 it’s 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. 

[felixoliveira]

FELIX OLIVEIRA’S WHCD LOOK

Looking smug after glancing at the polls this morning, Felix Oliveira rolls up to the WHCD in a classic black and white bow tie look. His hair may look casually tossed together, but make no mistake, he spent a good twenty minutes making sure a single curl dangled over his forehead just-so (he'll tell you that the first step to beating Republicans is looking better than them). 

[felixoliveira]

ginnypark‌:

“See? This is why I keep you around.” Ginny’s smile is immediately wide. Frankly, she has more than one reason to keep Felix around. He’s consistent – some may say in the wrong ways, but anything is helpful here and now in a place and job that often feels so new still. A familiar face feels valuable. Their pattern is normally an easy one and so she can’t help how she responds with banter despite the potential weight of the present conversation, though her brow raises at the closing of the door. It’s usually wide open, so… this should be interesting.  “I’ve told you time and time again that what tie you do or do not choose to wear is neither confidential nor pressing.” Still, she gestures to the chair closest to her desk then turns to mute the closest TV, reveling in the post-Fox News silence for a moment before looking to Felix with sincerity. “Alright. Advice at the ready, though I can’t guarantee its quality. What’s up?”

“Careful, Park. Let’s not forget who’s keeping who around.” There’s a playful sternness to his voice, but the threat is, of course, an empty one. Beyond their mutual hatred for the goblins who populated Fox and the Wall Street Journal, Felix has a genuine appreciation for Ginny’s capability in the press room. With anyone else, Felix could very easily be beyond irritated at having to work in such close proximity - with Ginny, however, her competency made her compatibility, and Felix was usually left appreciating her ability to relay his notes rather than reprimanding her for them. He’s not about to let her go anytime soon. 

He shakes his head as Ginny continues. “I’m afraid this is a bit more serious than a tie color,” he says. He reaches for the phone in his back pocket. “I’ve thought about it seriously, and I think I’m ready to move onto the next stage of my life. That is, being a pet owner. I just can’t decide who to go for.” He scrolls to the Photos section of his phone and brings up the first image. “This is Pancake. Pros include very soft, an excuse to keep more vegetables around, and can go on long walks.” He could take a rabbit on a walk, right? The technology had to be there. “Option number two,” he swipes one picture over, “is Francis. Pros include very affectionate, fun to look at, and easy to carry around in my pocket - which, if you think about it, could be an intimidation factor in meetings with Republicans.” He looks up, nodding towards Ginny. “Thoughts?”

[felixoliveira]

presidentberkeley‌:

rmoskowitz‌:

 “You know I adore your ego, Felix - it’s become a dear friend.” She’d shed the lingering evidence of howling anger that seized her in the silent moments, following Bell and Sanford’s announcement. Something feral had been touched in Rory’s heart; her resentment for the Admiral and his aggressively white male regime, the smug cadence’s in Sanford’s voice. Her skill restraint had given way to a primal emotion, one diffused - though an array of balloon carcasses littered the ground, as evidence of her displeasure. Cooled and delighted by the presence of her favorite men in D.C., Rory’s visage isn’t colored by the hues of burning rage - it’s soft, thoughtful. 

“I’m in agreement with Felix - The Admiral and Sanford would delight in nothing better, then knowing their announcement has had its intended effect. And certainly, Bell’s eager to use his veteran status to silence his opposers.” She turns from the balcony’s edge, where she’s wistfully examined the lawn - no better embodiment of their labor of love for Julian’s presidency, could be found outside the White House itself. It’s Julian however, still painfully endearing in his handsome, eagerly kind , that solidifies Rory’s mind. “But we cannot yield to Bell; silence is his game. Never, has Will had a semblance of the upper hand - I’ll give it to him, the move is brazen, amongst other adjectives I’d use.” 

  Julian serves, Felix volleys; Rory’s uncertain of her returning move. Both made arguments she can give credence two, which is a beast of its own kind - and for another days reflection. The appropriate response to Bell-Gate, was their most pressing issue. Sanford was certainly frothing at the mouth, eager to twist a carefully crafted response into a speech rife with anti-veteran and freedom of speech rhetoric. Yet silence, not matter how dignified, or how it exemplified intelligence, maturity, would simply not do. The Admiral had come into Julian’s house, shat all over the ground and expected the Democrat’s to endure the stink with a smile, lest they run the risk of insulting a veteran. 

“And so we respond, in a manner that his party could never fathom - with empathy, restraint, and a biting retort that his campaign will take three weeks to untangle, though it’ll be too late to reverse the positive news Julian’s incurred. Acknowledge Will’s duty as a serviceman, the lovely right to freedom of speech, and Julian’s desire to place the American people above bipartisan politics.The Fourth of July isn’t veterans day, after all. The nation’s independence from tyranny, or a raging white man …. there’s something there we can use.”

Off Felix, Julian shakes his head, still keeping his Baseball Coach act intact. “Republican women are the kind to listen and think, Maybe we should have rights, when we say that.” But perhaps that’s but wishful thinking. Perhaps they their views truly are that skewed. And as far as their running mates are concerned: “Sanford doesn’t have debate experience before this. Oliver does. Not even Veep— Presidential. Hated to admit it back then, but he was doing good. He’s… unpredictable, but he can command a room. He’s got this. And we’ve got him.” Under our thumbs. 

“I hear you both, but —” Julian smiles a little, though it lacks all humor. It’s knowing, with a certain experience behind it. “This isn’t Bell’s game. Yes, you’re right— his is a game of silence. And what’s Sanford’s? Drama.” He doesn’t have to dig too deep to recall countless moments where this has proven true. “This is the guy who admitted to me he wanted to get my attention by being on the senate floor for thirteen hours straight blocking my bill. He’ll bust one if we do so much as acknowledge his presence.” Julian paces around further, finally settling for a place against the balcony wall, next to its glass doors. From here, he stands exactly across from Rory, a perfect angle to Felix. “I say no reaction. At all. We can’t let them think we stopped to discuss them now, amidst all this.” These are Julian’s thoughts — but he’s always been a listener. And if Rory suggests some reaction instead, he’s willing to bend into it. These are the two people, after all, with whom he’s willing to share this power with. “Tomorrow, then.  Anything else, and we’re playing by their rules. In a game of our making.” 

“Fee?”

Compromises built this country. Felix has poured over the words of Henry Clay, over what it means to understand every angle of an argument and pick out the most promising parts of it. So while he can be a hardass about his own opinions (and let’s face it, though they can be a bit violent or illegal at times, they’re also usually right), he can also look at a situation and settle on a middle ground. “Tomorrow then. We have Ginny mention it briefly to the press, then say we won’t be taking any questions on it beyond our statement. Maybe reach out to Zimmerman’s office and make sure we have similar statements - make sure the Democratic Party looks as united as possible.”

His hands itch for a cigarette - not something he craves often, but something that’s good for getting his thoughts in order while he thinks critically in these strategy meetings - but without the forethought to think this is where his night was going to go this morning, he’s left wanting. Instead, he channels his nerves into systematic taps against the balcony railing he leans again, thinking. “Media response aside, how are we feeling about Sanford?” he asks next. “He’s got us on experience. Oliver may have done more debates than him, but he’s been in the Senate for - I don’t even know. I need to look into that.” The drumming on the rail picks up its pace a bit. “But Bell certainly opted for a golden boy as far as Republicans go, I’ll give him that.” 

[felixoliveira]

silassanford‌:

He wasn’t expecting anyone from the Berkeley administration to come up to him tonight, even less after the announcement (apart from those wishing to keep their jobs). But Felix doesn’t doesn’t fall into that category, being too close to the president. Silas was at the bar to get a glass of champagne, but more so to get a minute to himself and check his phone. But Felix’s presence was not unwelcome, making able to gauge a little bit of how the other side was handling it all. He put his phone away to give the man his full attention, grasping his glass of champagne. He doesn’t get a chance to join in the cheers with how quickly Felix chugged the shot. To a most interesting election season. The slightest moment of surprise crossed not his expression, but his eyes, when Felix threw Julian’s rejection in his face. There was no reason to believe such a conversation would remain private, but it had been a personal one, despite the opportunistic overtures. He’ll have to ask Julian if he regretted not accepting it, next time they talk. But the words don’t sting him as Felix might have hoped. He’s waited too long for tonight to come. There’s something almost like confusion on his face, as if Felix has gotten him all wrong. “What is more bipartisan than all of us celebrating this day under one roof? In the White House, no less.” There would be no traces of animosity to pick up in his tone because he doesn’t hate Julian. That conversation that had been alluded to proved that already. “Is that not what you want, Mr. Oliveira?”

He almost wants to laugh, the way Silas talks about this move as though it’s an innocent display of political unity. And maybe to some Republicans, that really is how this would look. After all, he’s heard it said a lot in this business that there are three sides to every story - their side, his side, and the truth. Of course, Felix never bought that. He scoffs, says instead that if his side isn’t the truth then he’ll make it that. 

“I don’t think the Democrats will be celebrating for much longer,” he comments with a raise of his eyebrows. Maybe in another life he would have dug deeper, acted hurt and offended that Silas used this open invitation to the White House to make a statement for his own sake. But Felix knows this game, and he recognizes where Silas is coming from - it’s not personal, it’s just politics. “I wanted to use the remainder of President Berkeley’s term,” which, if Felix had anything to say about it, would be another eight years, “to uniquely work with a Republican Senator who had already demonstrated a willingness to collaborate. But I guess it was never about the bipartisanship, was it, Mr. Sanford? Power is power.” He taps his fingertips on the rim of the empty shot glass.  “There’s a lot to be said about loyalties. I like to know who men work for in this town. And at least now I know you work for yourself.”

[rpmememaker]

Send “✆” for a MORNING text. Send “✉” for a text that WASN’T SENT. Send “☎” for a RUSHED text. Send “⁇” for a DRUNK text. Send “✿” for a SUGGESTIVE text. Send “ø” for a LATE NIGHT text. Send “✘” for a HATEFUL text. Send “#” for a RANDOM text. Send “@” for a SCARED text. Send “&” for a LOVING text. Send “%” for a CURIOUS text. Send “ツ” for an EXCITED text. Send “$” for an ACCIDENTAL text. Send “♀” for a HEARTBREAKING text.

[felixoliveira]

ginnypark‌:

{ open! }

She can practically smell whoever it is before they arrive at her door. Maybe it’s because her ears are still ringing from the din of the noise she’d heard from up on the podium. Loss of one sense, strengthening of the others, right? Either way, the approaching visitor makes her sigh. Not exactly their fault. Blame those mongrels she’d had to face with a smile as they gloated about Will Bell’s ‘stunning’ announcement. Stunning, yeah. Two silver-haired white men of barely-average height. Truly groundbreaking shit. Ginny’s essentially hate-watching Fox News on one of the many television screens in her office as this unfortunate soul approaches the door, and she raises a palm, not even looking back toward the doorway. "Only those who have also thought really hard about throat-punching a greasy mouth-breather from the Wall Street Journal in the last twenty four hours may pass over this threshold. Tread wisely.”

“Thought about it? Absolutely not, I’m a man of action — what do you think I’ve been up to during my lunch break?” Felix says it all with a smirk, closing Ginny’s door behind him as he walks in. It isn’t uncommon for Ginny to be one of the chosen few that can also get a real, genuine grin out of Felix. ‘Friend’ isn’t quite a strong enough word to describe the relationship between him and Ginny, and he’s not quite as openly Communist as Zafar to refer to her as his ‘comrade’. Instead, there’s a fondness there that’s maybe too deep for a word to quite describe it, due only partially to the nights they happened to share together back when Ginny was still a C-lister in LA. At the end of the day, there’s a lot of people who Felix could have been very annoyed at working so closely with, and Ginny just so happens to be an exception. “I do need some advice though, if you have a moment,” he continues. “It’s a bit urgent and fairly classified.”

[kanjabeto-deactivated20180421]

[felixoliveira]

presidentberkeley‌:

@felixoliveira​ @rmoskowitz​

“Mr President,” his assistant calls for his attention, quiet and polite and unalarming. It’s the same voice she’d use to ask to fix his tie or warn of a nuclear war. “A word?”

He’s told of the news in one of the private balconies, Rory and Felix at his side. Julian muffles a chuckle, equal parts incredulous and amused.

“What’d I tell you?” He says to Felix. “Wonderbread.” 

Then he stops to think. “This is actually our best case scenario.” It’s not necessarily true, especially not without analyzing it from every angle first. But here, now, an hour away from the firework show, this is the best he can do. For himself and for his team, Julian builds themselves up. It’s not like him to accept defeat; it is like him to turn things around, make it benefit them instead. He lists, “They have no reach for diverse voters or women, they seem desperate for doing it here, and not to mention that making the 4th about yourself is about the least patriotic thing one can do. We’re throwing a huge party for veterans and they’re standing in our lawn saying Hey, look at me!” Would he have expected any different from Sanford? Certainly not. Julian paces around as he talks, reaching for any good considerations within reach. Just then, he allows himself to smile. “Maybe we should give them back their guns just to watch them shoot themselves in the foot.”  

“He probably wants a reaction, too.” Which we’re not gonna give. “I think Sanford’s got a crush on me.”

He didn’t think he’d be laughing much tonight after that announcement, but Julian’s already got him chuckling at the mention of wonderbread. “Don’t know why I suspected anything different. The GOP’s never been notorious for having presidents that could host these Fourth of July events without spending half of its budget on sunscreen.” 

Then, it’s time to play strategy. While Julian’s first resort is optimism, Felix's first thought is ‘How does this lose us the election?’. It’s what he’s here for, after all - preventing the apocalypse before the first trumpet is even tuned for it. “They can spare the diverse vote. Those have always been our grievances, not theirs. And if anything, Republican women are the type to prefer male duos and call women candidates shrewd and unlikable,” he says. “But you’re right, it feels a bit desperate to do it here. They’ll probably still end up spinning the Fourth of July angle in their favor - Bell’s a veteran, after all, so any announcement he makes can be claimed under patriotism and serving our country.” He sighs shaking his head. “It’s not our best case scenario, but it’s also not our worst. Sanford shouldn’t be underestimated, though - Zafar should know that. In fact, you should be the one to tell him that, the kid doesn’t trust my word the way he trusts yours. We need him started on debate practice sooner than you, he doesn’t have the 2016 experience you do.”

He looks out at the view from the balcony, the city seemingly small beneath them. This is the view all those other men desperate to win a presidency have looked out on, Felix can’t help but think - this is the reason they fought so hard to stay in power. “I won’t lie, I’m a bit torn on what kind of reaction we should give,” he says. “On one hand, it would feel a bit odd to not say anything to the press or the people here, like you’re playing hard to get or being purposefully coy. On the other hand - this may be my selfishness talking, but after they were so sure that doing this here would get a response from us, it would feel a little too good to not give them the satisfaction.” He turns to Rory with a grin. “Liberate us from our fragile male egos - what do you think?” 

[felixoliveira]

"The man of the hour,” is how he greets Silas as he slides up to him by the bar. He points to a liquor on the top shelf and the bartender is intuitive enough to reach up and grab it for a shot. As he waits for his drink, Felix considers Silas for a moment. He spends a lot of his days pulling strings, cleaning up messes for the American people all while propping up the president as the man to do it all. It’s a thankless job, perhaps, but it’s a necessary one, and Felix has never been all that enamored with the spotlight. It does make him think, however, who exactly was the one to put all of this into motion - Did Bell and Sanford manage to coordinate this all on their own? Or is there a puppet master hiding from Felix in the crowd? He’d love nothing more than to ask Silas, but it’s hardly the kind of light patriotic talk they’re supposed to be engaged in. 

As the bartender passes him a shot glass with his drink, Felix raises it with a bitter smile on his features. “To a most interesting election season,” he says before he finishes the drink in one long gulp. The bartender’s about to fill up for him again, but Felix waves him off - he’s never been one for being too out of control. “So I guess that means bipartisanship is no longer on the agenda when it’s not what gets you into the White House, right?” he muses. It’s a bit of a petty jab towards the conversation Julian told Felix they had had, but then again, this entire unveiling during a White House event is the epitome of a petty jab. 

@silassanford

[felixoliveira]

When Felix was in his early years at Princeton, he went to his first high-class political event with one of his first mentors. Felix was quick to want to run to all of the congressmen and officials in the room, but he was told to stop, to hold back, and instead, Felix’s mentor spent the entire night talking with the wives and husbands of the people in power. Felix learned one important thing that night (besides the fact that he’s allergic to certain brands of cocktail shrimp, but that’s another issue) - if you really want to know your opponent, have dinner with the person they share a bed with. Tonight’s fixation after that announcement just happens to be Cindy Bell. 

He waits until the commotion dies down a bit right before the fireworks are about to start, then just so happens to go up to the snack table at the same time as her. He flashes her a smile as he grabs a clementine from a pile which is strikingly lower than when the event started in the afternoon, then nods towards the dip in between them. “I don’t know if you’ve tried this coleslaw, but it’s on another level. I’d be happy to spend the rest of the White House budget on an endless supply of it.” He hadn’t, in fact, tried it at all, but he figured he’d throw something at Cindy that he knew all white people liked (and coleslaw was a close second to colonization). “How’s the evening been treating you? I’m sure the media’s about to hound you any moment now.”

@cynthiabell

[felixoliveira]

delilahcconnelly·:

Despite the fact that her father had let her in on this little plan merely two days ago, Delilah has smoothly assumed the responsibility of drafting the statement of support from the party and controlling the story. Her father never liked these little details, delegating or simply ignoring them, even before she assumed the role as co-chair she’d been picking up the slack and preventing things from falling through. The devil was in the details or so they all said. 

The uproar first came from the media, sequestered as they were outside the main party. A flutter of camera flashes and distant shouts, reporters trying to get a picture of the newly announced team. The commotion continued to spread as people checked their phones and looked up to confirm with a neighbor. Delilah strategically placed herself between the two men at a distance far enough to spot any wayward media who’d conned their way into the actual party and able to run interference. So far, so good. She felt a presence behind her and turned quickly, taking a sip of her drink. 

“You’ve heard the news then?” 

He isn’t planning on talking to Delilah (or any Republican who must be feeling particularly smug tonight, quite frankly) until she asks him something truly absurd. “No, actually,” he replies. “What news?” He gives her a sardonic grin before taking a few sips of his drink. It’s just apple juice, but he likes the illusion that it could be any number of dark cocktails that Felix is drinking without an ounce of a hit to his tolerance. It’s about building an image. 

“You already knew, I assume,” he says as he regards Delilah again. He knows her position in the Republican Party, obviously, but he wouldn’t be surprised if her knowledge actually stemmed largely from who her father is - there is something to be said about blood and water. He considers Delilah for a moment, young and female as she is (certainly not the paradigm for a co-chair of the GOP), before continuing. “It’s not the choice you would have made, is it? Sanford for VP,” he says. A bit of a bold inquiry, maybe, but sometimes you have to ask for what you want.

@delilahcconnelly

[felixoliveira]

He’s done a lot of thinking these last few weeks about what William Bell’s VP pick could look like. Someone more experienced was a given, sure, but from there Felix couldn’t decide how willing Bell would be to play identity politics, how much he was willing to bend the rules of the traditional Republican ticket. So hearing the news now that his anticipation and careful considerations have accumulated in Bell picking a white man not unlike the generations that have preceded him - well, while everyone around him seems in a state of frenzy, Felix is left frowning at his phone, thinking ‘Really? Is that it?’. 

Then, once the initial haze wears off, he considers what’s next. That’s the key to these chess games, after all, is not getting stuck on the move that was just made but to be consciously considerate of the moves still to be made. He’s looking for one of a few possible members of Berkeley’s team to discuss press angles with, but he spots Amanda coming out of the White House before any of them. He figures he may as well start with the Vice President and work his way up. “Amanda,” he calls over to her. No longer Miss Roy now that they're working on getting the same duo elected.  “How are we handling Zafar’s media response?” 

@royisms

[felixoliveira]

Felix can’t remember the last time he’s eaten alone. His job - besides acting as Julian’s full-time Kris Jenner - involves more shmoozing than he cares to admit, and there’s really no better time to do that than when his companion is full from DC’s world-class French cuisine or IHOP's award-winning, Maxim-Cortez-approved pancakes (the ones with sprinkles, not the one chocolate chips, because he may be a murderer but he’s not a fucking psychopath). 

He sits with Oliver now in a five-star Hibachi restaurant, watching as Felix’s chicken and Oliver’s vegan nonsense both get tossed into flames. “Do you know what Daniel Webster said when he was asked to become Vice President?” he asks. “He refused and told them ‘I do not propose to be buried until I am dead’. Nelson Rockefeller, when asked what he does as a Vice President, replied ‘I go to funerals. I go to earthquakes’. So I’m curious, what’s the Oliver Zafar take on the office so far?” The chef grabs the entrees from the fire and throws them on each of their plates, landing almost meticulously next to the rice and vegetables already there. It’s a respectable artform. 

@oliverzafar​

[felixoliveira]

Felix has always believed that a man’s value could be pretty well determined by where he rests his head every night. Flashy cars and designer watches are short-lived bursts of expenditures, and a profession has too many moving pieces to truly be indicative of anything. But the circumstances surrounding how one chooses to spend their last and first moments of the day - the place, the surroundings, the people - Felix is sure to be a pretty good indicator of the kind of person they are overall. 

Exhibit A - it’s almost midnight after another restless day of equal parts campaigning and governing, and Felix is sprawled across the Oval Office couch, damn-near close to passing out after being up since dawn. There are only two things really keeping me awake - the Rubik’s cube he keeps tossing up and catching as it comes down, keeping his limbs occupied in a way that doesn’t let him doze off, and the conversation he’s keeping with the other person in the room. “I just can’t decide on what the fuck Bell is going to do,” he says to Julian. “On one hand, he goes for the moderate, level-headed female veep - the anti-Palin - and he gets to pretend that the Republican Party is the beacon of feminism and diversity while reeling in some extra 'girl power' votes. On another, he gets a black veep and fucks us over in any part of the South with a significant black population. And then I think, am I overanalyzing this? Is he just going to go for the same white wonderbread Republican and not bother with identity politics at all?” His eyes crinkle as he thinks about it, the Rubik’s cube all the while getting tossed up and down in a steady rhythm. “I can't decide. What do you think?”

@presidentberkeley​

[felixoliveira]

The problem with young progressives like Alba is that they don’t actually understand politics. They throw all their weight behind extremes and furthest extent to their beliefs, so ready to die for their cause, that they have no real ability to actually get things done. Instead, their only real achievements are creating larger rifts within the party, retweeting things on Twitter, and getting young people to reelect them come November to rinse and repeat the cycle. It’s what’s left Alba where she is now, sitting across from Felix after endorsing a no-chance candidate who, as a shock to absolutely no one, ended up dropping out of said race that he had no chance in. Now it’s just a matter of Alba not being more stubborn than her presidential candidate of choice. 

See, for as many problems as there were with young progressives, there was certainly one overwhelming positive - with the right kind of convincing, they bent just as easily as everyone else in this city. “Thank you for making the time to see me,” he tells her across the table. “I know campaign season is right around the corner, it’s certainly a bit hectic for us all. How are you holding up with everything?”

@albacruz-ing

[felixoliveira]

Felix values few things more than loyalty and competence, and Rory happens to be a winning combination of both. It’s why Rory is one of the few members of the Berkeley staff that knows the full extent of every malicious detail that went into the making of a president. Felix and Julian may be on the frontline of the ruthless means that have brought them their current ends, but Rory has been by their side all throughout - more docile in the way she supports their agenda, but no less determined. Together, they are the worst version of the three musketeers, the three horsemen of the country’s silent political apocalypse.

He walks down the familiar hallway leading to Rory’s office, waving to interns and and smiling pleasantly at her secretary once she gets to her desk. “She’s not in a meeting right now, is she?” he asks her. “All yours,” she replies. He smiles pleasantly at her, makes a brief comment about how he’s sorry he can’t make it to her son’s bar mitzvah, and makes a promise to send a gift over anyway. It’s only when he opens and closes the door to Rory’s office that the smile fades and his demeanor becomes all business. “How close are you to Amanda Roy?” he asks in lieu of a greeting.

@rmoskowitz​