safiyedurmaz:
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Safiye remained where she was sat for a moment or so longer, nodding along at Luis’ comments and making a few quick notes on the ever-growing pile of papers she’d amassed to do with this event. It was too important to leave to chance, to leave to anyone else, so she’d see to it herself and get all these papers backed up digitally later. Then, once she was finished, that was her cue to turn her attention back to Luis, setting down the papers and picking up her iPad instead, twisting in her seat to look at him. “Yes, lets”
She’d picked those she’d worked for carefully, that first shoe in the door from her father had given her a running start, and then it was a few carefully calculated choices that got her here, working for someone she felt sure could make it all the way into the top office, and who would owe her a great deal for her part in making it all happen. “The general election is a while out still, but I took the liberty of putting out some feelers, seeing if there’s anyone sat pretty in a safe seat that’s thinking it’s about time for retirement” Connections were king in a world such as this. “But I was thinking, a by-election would get you in even sooner, set you up for a serious go at party leader whenever you think you have the support for it, you could be mayor and an MP all at once, it has been done before” Though she didn’t need to say the rumours she would need to dig out and leak about some one or other of the Labour Party’s own MPs to get someone to stand down now.
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"Yes, we have plenty of time before the election,” which meant she had plenty of time to get some scandal out, something for the public to get the pitchforks and the torches for the others and rolling down the red carpet for him. At least, that was the plan. God knew what would actually happen.
The mayor sat down on one of the two small couches on his office, kicking his shoes off and propping his feet up on the cushions. “We can probably count on a few of them retiring, but we could use endorsements too,” he nodded, picking up his coffee cup and getting lost for a moment in the brown liquid, his thoughts drowning there for a few moments. He had yet to tell her about his dating life. At first, he figured it was best to wait for things to get serious, and then he had figured he’d rather have something, someone all to himself. No PR, no journalists, nothing. When all the things you did, said, chose, were analyzed, decoded, plastered over newspapers, tv and radio channels, you grew to cherish every secret you could keep. “I suppose I could do both. What do I have to lose trying to juggle with both?” And this was why he had deputies and such.











