WUNDERKIND.

MERRITT TAYLOR. XXIX. CHIEF OF STAFF TO REP. ALBA CRUZ. INDEPENDENT.

[merrittaylor]

hans-starke‌:

“It’s not a trap,” Hans laughs, only because yes, it very much sounds like one. “I can do time-outs sometimes. Consider this intermission.” Hans listens then, observant of the way she talks. He would never condemn someone who’s willing to play his games. He smiles, and nods. “Good enough.” 

He’s almost ready to let it go, already reaching back for his drink — but just as the glass touches his lips he realizes there’s more he wants to know. “Are you?” He asks. “A liberal sell-out?” He does drink then, feeling the whiskey settle. “Do you believe in everything you’re selling?” 

Merritt gives pause for a moment, chewing her lip as she considered the question. “Does anyone believe in everything they’re selling?” She counters, “Do you?” Merritt may have been many things, quite a few of them rather unsavoury, but she didn’t believe herself to be a sellout, not really. On most issues, she agreed with Alba, or at least, she agreed enough. If anything, she found herself watering down her own ideals, making them more palatable, more likely to appeal to the people whose votes would determine whether she got to keep her job. 

“I believe in enough of it.” She answers, finally. “And I’m convincing enough about the rest. That’s all that matters, right?”

[merrittaylor]

gvcoleman‌:

“You can call me Gabrielle - please. I don’t mind.” She was warm even in the subtle discouragement. She could never really bring herself to be a stickler for etiquette at events like this, where she may as well have been talking to an old friend, not to someone she had just met. 

“I can imagine. That’s the thing - when you attach yourself to someone whose work you can believe in - it makes things better. And you can push them to be better, too. If they need it.” Of course, she had always held that belief with Theresa, but whether or not it had really been effective was entirely different. “Yeah. I get it. For probably…. thirty years, I never really thought I was gonna leave Charlotte. Then I went to Raleigh, and that was fine. Then Theresa decided to run for President, and -” She huffs a laugh. “The rest is history, right? Everything here is a different ballgame. But once you get used to it - things stop fazing you, you know?” She shrugs her shoulders, pausing a moment. “Yeah. Harder for some than others.” She leans back for a second, studying Merritt closely. “What made you wanna get into politics? It’s a grungy business.”

“Alright, then. Gabrielle it is.” Merritt says with a smile. It was sometimes difficult to strike the right balance when speaking to more prominent figures in the world of politics -- whether she needed to treat them with respect and reverence, or simply treat them as her equal. Merritt, personally, saw herself as -- at the very least -- an equal to just about everyone she encountered through her work, but a little flattery never hurt in getting what she wanted.

Merritt hums in agreement. It was very easy for her to agree with Alba’s politics. Ever since they had started working together back in California, Merritt had known there was something special about Alba -- that she had the capacity and the drive to make actual change, she had a passion for things that Merritt cared about, which it seemed many politicians sorely lacked. If Merritt had been a driving force in Alba running for Congress, it didn’t matter, because the outcome would be better for everyone. “I’ll have to take your word on that.” She chuckles.

Merritt shrugs, considering her answer for a moment. Unfortunately, Merritt’s initial reasons for getting into politics were quite superficial -- to impress a girl, which, while being a rather funny story to tell when she was a few drinks in, wasn’t exactly the image she preferred to project to the world. “I started getting involved with local politics -- grassroots campaigns, rallies, protests, that sort of thing. I kind of fell in love with it, changed my major and decided this was what I wanted to do.”

[merrittaylor]

rmoskowitz‌:

@merrittaylor​

  “The heat drives my hair mad, but there’s something particular about the flowers bloom in July, that I’m willing to suffer for.” The White House gardens were a sprawling expanse of green and littered with bright spots of color; days prior, it had hosted the Fourth of July Party - an affair Rory both longed to forget, and treasured. Merritt Taylor, a Chief of Staff Rory felt particularly fond of, had indulged the senior staff member’s sentimental nature, agreeing to sacrifice her lunch to the flowers. “How’s the summer treated you thus far, Ms. Taylor? Working for D.C.’s most invigorated young rep, surely doesn’t lack any dull moments - nor substantial downtime. I’m ashamed we had little time to talk at the party - the old white geezers, and a couple young ones, took what little energy and braincells I had left.” 

Merritt would need to be a particular brand of stupid and naive to turn down a meeting with Rory Moskowitz at the White House -- even if it did interfere with her plans to heat up week old leftovers and eat them at her desk. Ms Moskowitz was someone that Merritt particularly respected, not only for her position as the White House’s Chief of Staff -- a position that Merritt would quite like to hold herself, one day -- but for her personal priorities and politics. Merritt laughs at the comment about Rory’s hair, “I think they’re beautiful enough for the sacrifice.” She’d never had to worry about such humidity in California, but it reminded her very much of Pittsburgh, where the humidity seemed to cling to you at the height of summer, much like it seemed to here. 

“Other than the heat, it’s been treating me well, Ms Moskowitz.” She says, nodding as a polite smile graces her lips. “It’s still only been about a year since I moved here, I’m still trying to work out exactly how everything around here works -- it’s very different to the local politics I was involved with in California.” She explains, “But I’m keeping very busy. I’m very lucky to be working with Alba -- she wants to get things done, there’s not a lot of sitting around planning the next move, we always seem to have something on the go.” Merritt chuckles again, “Don’t mention it, I imagine those sorts of events involve a lot of talking to people you’d otherwise try and avoid. Even I felt like that, and I’m not the one working for the President.”

[merrittaylor]

hans-starke‌:

“More specific?” Hans echoes, arching an interested brow at her. He’d left the question open with a rightful purpose — of letting Merritt share just about all that she’d wished to. It’s a system that had worked for him, anyway. But not always. “You’re perfect,” he says then, “as far as everyone can see. Through yours — or your bosses’s eyes.” He refuses to say her name then, committing to the act that perhaps yes, they are more than what Alba could sell them for. The same courtesy that Merritt has offered him, he offers in return. “What’s something most don’t know about you? Something most people would condemn you for?” He eyes her with interest — and with familiarity. Maybe she’ll accept him as her equal, someone who always had to fight against rumors also, or maybe she’ll stick by her own rules. It doesn’t hurt to try. “Eh. Maybe. But I think anyone who dares stumble inside has nothing left to lose, anyway.”

“Perfect, huh?” Merritt repeats, raising a brow. She’s not quite sure she’d agree with that assessment. She was brash and abrasive and didn’t know when enough was enough -- though these traits might be looked upon as a positive for someone like Hans, they were quite the opposite for someone like Merritt. She wasn’t exceptionally likeable -- not in the way that a young woman should be. That’s part of the reason she imagines a political career of her own would crash and burn and spectacular fashion, if she ever had the desire to pursue the spotlight herself rather than fight passionately to get other people into it. “Why do I feel like this is a trap?” She laughs breathily, resting her head against the wall of the bouncy castle. She shrugs, “My whole family are Republicans, pretty passionate ones, at that,” She says, “They think I’m a liberal sellout, though I don’t think that’s such a bad thing to be. My mother thinks I ‘abandoned’ them.” She rolls her eyes. “That good enough for you?”

[merrittaylor]

albacruz-ing‌:

Congresswoman Cruz had a very strange relationship with the Fourth of July. It had never really felt like a holiday for her, instead a celebration of White America and their perfect families. It had gotten better, she supposed, but generally Alba tried to avoid this. But she was expected to attend the President’s event, and would have to grin and bear it. 

A knock at her door interrupted this minor pity party, and she sat up from where she had her head down on the desk, greeting Merritt with a smile that was more like a grimace than anything. 

“Remind me why I let you talk me into this again?” She smirked, just so Merritt was sure that Alba was joking. “Here’s where I am supposed to say all legislation changes the world or some bullshit like that,” she looked at the papers in front of her. “And this is a birthday card for some old white man who calls me Maria. Excellent.”

“Sometimes my powers of persuasion surprise even myself. They wanted to run tests on me when I was younger, they thought it might be a superpower.” Merritt says, deadpan save for a slight quirk of her lips to indicate the humour behind her words. “All legislation does change the world,” Merritt insists, “For example, did you know that it’s been illegal to share your Netflix password in Tennessee since 2011? We can only hope to pass legislation that game-changing.” Merritt shakes her head, not wanting to think about the number of hours that went into passing that law, what more important things were tabled to discuss Netflix passwords.

“Wait, your name isn’t Maria? Remind me to update your business cards.” She chuckles, “If it helps, I’m sure he’ll be very appreciative of the hand-written message. I put a lot of thought into it. I left out any mention of age because I couldn’t verify whether he was turning two hundred and eleven or twelve.”

[merrittaylor]

royisms‌:

     Amanda had never learned the fascination for coffee, and it was a shame because this city seemed to feed off it. She’d only started drinking coffee at her first job when she saw everyone else did it and desperately wanted to fit in with the grown ups, the experienced consultants. She took a liking to the beverage, but certainly wouldn’t drinking it alone. Like some people are social drinks, so is Amanda – except, in her case, it’s caffeine and not alcohol what draws her closer to others. Merritt was a known coffee-drinker and Amanda respected that. After all, she too had her poison of choice ( it just wasn’t socially accepted to drink a glass of red in the middle of a working day just yet ). It hadn’t been an issue for her to move basically across town to the address her friend had texted her and meet the woman there. It was a good excuse to get away from the office for a while and, technically, it could be labeled a professional meeting. The perks of working in the same field as your friends, right?

     As she finally reached the café, Amanda stepped inside and immediately her gaze landed on the woman already expecting her. She’d tried her best to be on time but, alas, that truly wasn’t one of her ( many ) positive traits; she really ought to focus her energy on something else, that was obviously a lost cause. Before making her way down to the table Merritt was at, Amanda stood in line for a few minutes and ordered herself a regular latte, which she held securely in her hand as she approached the other. “Hey, sorry,” had been her opening line for years. At first, she’d used traffic, public transportation, office hours, other meetings, whatever excuse to justify herself but, now, she would just apologize and have her acquaitances know… This was just her. “Geez – I haven’t seen you in forever it feels. How have you been? How was your morning?” Please, don’t ask about mine. She needed some time to drink her warm beverage and relax in the comfortable chair and not talk.

Merritt had never been the type of person who made friends exceptionally easily -- mostly because, for the most part, she didn’t try particularly hard. It was very easy for her to become consumed by work, and it had been from a very young age, for her to become lost in the cause, in whatever she was working towards at any given moment, to become entirely swept up in seeing results, that she neglected other aspects of her life. Some would argue that it was unhealthy, but Merritt would argue right back -- saying that she was young, a woman, and a person of colour, that getting half as far would take twice as much work, and if she wasn’t focused on what she wanted, it would slip right out of her grasp. She would fall behind in the rat race that was politics, and she wouldn’t be able to catch up again.

Since moving to DC, however, she’d been surprised to find that she’d actually made a few friends. It was probably easier here than it had been back in California or Pennsylvania, in that just about everyone she spoke to was involved in the same world she was -- they all understood what it meant to be part of the world of politics, and, for the most part, they all shared similar ambitions to Merritt. They would understand if she had to cancel plans to work through the night or forget to call them back for days at a time, because that’s just what happened here. 

“Busy,” She answers with a laugh as Amanda sits down across from her. Busy seems to be her standard answer, but it’s always fitting. “I don’t know if you realise, but politics is a lot of running around trying to get very stubborn people to agree with you.” She says, taking another sip of her coffee, humming in contentment as she does so. “I can’t complain too much, though. How about you? Surely the great Amanda Roy has some stories for me right from the top?”

[merrittaylor]

henryxsanford‌:

He grinned as she laughed, allowing himself to indulge in that moment of humour. Henry doesn’t really care much for most politicians other than his father (and of course that stemmed from a heavy bias). “It does,” he replied, and knew that he would be even busier in the coming months as he assisted with the campaign. “But I don’t mind.” His father had taught him the value of hard work, and he would certainly prefer to be consumed by his work than for his father to inquire about his personal life. “When you know that working harder means you can make more of a difference.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Merritt says, the ghost of a smile gracing her lips. She’d always been work-focused, sometimes to the point where her friends might argue that she was no fun -- she just liked to think that she could see the bigger picture, that working towards something was far more rewarding than frivolous exploits. “Well, Henry, I won’t take up any more of your time, I’m sure you’ve got a lot of shoulders to rub. But I hope we see each other again.”

[merrittaylor]

perseusandrews‌:

“At the very least - wealth and pride aside - it’s all of us coming together to celebrate. When’s the last time you saw this many democrats and republicans in a room together that wasn’t an official work setting or a press briefing?” he shrugged. “Your job to be here - what do you do?”

“Pushing everyone together to drink fancy cocktails and watch marching bands isn’t the same as a true united front. Still isn’t going to make anybody agree on anything.” Merritt herself wasn’t registered as Democrat or Republican -- though if you were to ask her, she’d say she was the former -- she didn’t think that anything came from having two diametrically opposing groups vying for power, except, perhaps, for bringing out the very worst in people. “I work in Congresswoman Cruz’s office.” She supplies.

[merrittaylor]

gvcoleman‌:

“It is. Helps perfect the branding, and looks good to invite military families.” That was, to her mind, the only reason she could think of that Bell (not to mention a number of others) had been invited. It certainly wasn’t any sort of goodwill from Julian or his staff, even she knew that. Political calculation.

“I guessed,” she admitted with a smile. “I hope you take this as a compliment, because that’s how I mean it, but you look young. And a little like the shell-shock hasn’t worn off, just yet.” Gabrielle was honest and kind in equal measure, and she took the hand offered her way gratefully. "Nice to meet you, Merritt. Gabrielle Coleman.” She suspected that she might already know that, but it kept her humble. “Cruz. California? I don’t know her well, but I remember hearing she worked for Berkeley.” Looking into Theresa’s potential running mates had been part of her work in the months leading up to 2016, and it had included their staff. “Her work for immigration’s been great.” She smiled, a genuine sort of warmth there. “How do you like it? DC, I mean? I know it’s not really everyone’s style, and it doesn’t always treat girls like us so well.”

Merritt supposed the display would be impressive to certain voting demographics, though she still wasn’t personally impressed by the lavish event. Not politically, anyway. Personally, she had to admit she was enjoying herself just a little bit. 

Merritt grins, “The pleasure’s all mine, Ms. Coleman.” There weren’t many people who Merritt respected before really getting to know them, she preferred to reserve her affection for people she felt had earned it, but Gabrielle’s career was one she’d followed for a while. It was rare to find women she could relate to in positions of power, so when she found one, Merritt couldn’t help but idolise her, just a little bit. “It has been,” Merritt agrees, “She’s passionate about all the right things. Makes it very easy to work with her.” She smiles, “Shell shock is probably the right word. It’s very... different to the local politics I was involved with in California, or even Alba’s campaign. “Everyone’s always scrambling to get ahead. Harder for some than others, though.”

[merrittaylor]

hans-starke‌:

Perhaps Merritt plays by the same rules he does, or perhaps she really is a contender for a worthy alliance. Only time — and the right moves — will tell. Still, he can’t help but feel appreciative of her comments; that perhaps, his fame (bad or otherwise) goes beyond the image Alba had tried selling. (He knows it’s not good. Knows for a fact it’s as negative of a light he’s ever been painted on, but knows politics aren’t so black and white.) “…Yeah, I know,”  he says. “That’s the thing about DC, isn’t it? Everyone’s got something.” Quietly, he wonders about Merritt. In an ironic sort of serendipity, he realizes he, too, had only ever known her from Alba’s perspective. Not through her words, but what her position — directly connected to her — entails. He eyes closely, undoubtedly curious, the faintest of smiles on his lips. It’s a short in the dark.  “…What’s yours?” 

Hans laughs, glad for Merritt to be playing along. “Bouncy house, maybe?” He suggests. “Makes me sound more humble.” 

Everyone’s got something. Merritt hums at his words, finding them to be more true the longer she spends in DC. Everything she knew about big league politics when she was younger came from television dramas or from the news -- they didn’t prepare her particularly well for what it would really be like, but she liked to think she was learning to adapt. She’d always been good at that, fitting herself into places where she didn’t belong. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.” She answers, cautious in her words though a playful smile flitters across her lips.

“I don’t know.. drinking alone in a bouncy house borders on pitiful, don’t you think? Wouldn’t want to humble yourself too much, people might lose respect for you.”

[merrittaylor]

henryxsanford‌:

“And a pleasure to meet you,” he replied in turn, sincere in his words. It felt good to be able to voice how he felt about the event, knowing that at these types of things (or rather, wherever he was) he wasn’t supposed to express his opinion. No one wanted to know how he really felt. Oh dear, he realized, when she said who she worked for. He supposed he should have expected that she worked for a Democrat. Which meant that she was likely to hate him the moment he revealed who he was.  “Don’t I?” He asked, with just a hint of playfulness, but also curiosity. “What does a politician look like?” Like my father, he thought. He was here, and he knew he was, because of his father, but that sounded pathetic to say. “Businessman and philanthropist.” There was nothing untrue in what he said, though he was omitting some things. “I, well, build buildings.”

“I’m choosing not to answer that for fear my words will come back to bite me later.” Merritt laughs. Though she had respect for many politicians -- Alba, mostly, and a few select role models, there were also many she didn’t have much respect for. Mostly those whose views were diametrically opposed to her own. Merritt didn’t consider herself self-righteous -- even if other people might -- because she was usually just right. Certain things should just be fundamental, and yet people still found themselves arguing over it.

“Businessman and philanthropist.” She repeats, “I’m sure that keeps you busy.”

[merrittaylor]

perseusandrews‌:

“Not the colours,” Percy interjects. He doesn’t know why he feels the need to prove himself in this conversation. Maybe it’s because he’s had to do just that for so long, that he’s used to defending to explain. “What they stand for. The country, unity, the like. The colours are just an extension of those today, “ he finishes, after shaking her hand. “What brings you here today, Ms. Taylor, if not for the colours?” he asks, curious about her connections in the realm of politics, if she was someone he could use as an ally in the future.

Merritt has to resist the urge to roll her eyes -- she’s not sure she’s ever heard something so corny, and she spent her whole day around politicians. She figures this kid can’t be much older than twenty -- probably someone’s intern, if she had to guess, trying to prove himself by spouting words that sound vaguely patriotic without having any real meaning. “It’s my job to be here.” She answers plainly, “So, you believe this party is America at it’s finest? A gross, exclusive, display of wealth?”

[merrittaylor]

virzafar‌:

He laughs at that. It’s refreshing, talking to someone who isn’t a straight-faced Boomer that he’s got to be all cordiality and table manners with. “See, I look at that and now I think I did my childhood all wrong. I was all about staying indoors and reading like an absolute goddamn nerd. Now I look at them throwing hoops and while I’m thoroughly confused, I’m also kind of intrigued? I think I just didn’t swallow enough dirt as a kid and I’m trying to make up for lost time.”

He sips at the cocktail in his hand, swirling the ice around as he keeps staring at the kids, one of which seems to have now climbed on top of another. The drink’s a bit watered down from how fast the ice has been melting - this fucking heat. “Are any of them yours?” he asks her then. “No pressure if not. This is definitely not my way of auditioning for the role of the pestering mother-in-law that won’t stop asking when you’ll be having kids.”

“Swallowing dirt isn’t all it’s chalked up to be.” Merritt assures him, shaking her head. She understood Vir’s sentiment -- she hadn’t exactly been the most sociable child either. She had friends, sure, but she mostly found their childish games and gossip to be simply that -- childish. She’d always had more important things to worry about, whether it be where her next meal was coming from or her pursuit for dreams just out of her reach, she’d never been able to make time for things that weren’t, in some way or another, productive. “My brother was a dirt-eater. I wouldn’t exactly call him a role model.”

“No, god no.” She says, perhaps laughing at the notion a little too much. Kids were never part of Merritt’s grand plan, and she doubted they ever would be. She could understand the appeal -- sort of, but to her, they seemed more like dead weight than anything else. Especially for a woman. A man with children was sympathetic, a woman with children was a liability. “Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. Me and kids... don’t mix very well.”

[nakedhiddles]

tessa thompson in westworld “the absence of field”

[christophernolan]

You are not the only predator here.

TESSA THOMPSON in WESTWORLD

[merrittaylor]

toriacastillo‌:

Would you get a load of that one? It was if it were an episode of Gossip Girl when everyone was getting their pings. An array of notification sounds that echoed through the lawn was astonishing. Silas Sanford is announced as William Bell’s running mate - oh, just imagine such a win. Despite being listed as a democrat, Victoria still had her fair share of conservative beliefs. In her opinion, a linear view ( especially in politics ) was dangerous. 

With a shrug of her shoulders and another generous sip from her White Claw ( mango, of course ), Victoria looked to her immediate right to Merritt. Had they been aware of the news as well? Hopefully, if not they would have heard it by now. 

“Interesting turn of events, am I right?” 

closed for @merrittaylor​ 

It’s as though everybody’s phones have been synchronised -- the notifications reaching everybody at the party in unison, Merritt feeling her own phone vibrate in her bag just as a symphony of notification sounds go off around her. She starts reading the article as soon as she gets it open, skimming through the bulk of the text to dig out the most important details. 

She only looks up when she hears a voice beside her, promptly switching off her phone and turning towards the young woman who had spoken. “You can say that again.” She shakes her head, placing her phone back into her bag. She’d read all she needed to to figure out what was going on. “It’s a smart move, announcing it today, while so many people are here.” Though she didn’t like William Bell in the slightest, she had to appreciate that whoever was behind this move clearly knew what they were doing.

[merrittaylor]

hans-starke‌:

It’s a lot quieter in here than out there, Merritt says, and Hans forces himself to agree — nodding along as though really, he could tell the difference. 

“Tell me about it,” Hans says, sipping his whiskey. It’s an odd combination — the children’s playground and the liquor, but it’s the best he’s felt all day. Well, besides the much needed bathroom break, but that’s too regular an occurrence to count as anything exciting. He thinks to say something then, but soon gives up, shaking his head. “I can tell you know way too much about me, already. For someone who hates me that much, Alba can’t seem to keep my same out of her mouth.” He sighs. “I admire your work, you know. And wish we’d met somewhere far less pathetic, trust me, so I could tell you that in a way that didn’t sound like a damn joke.” He takes another sip, and holds his glass out in a makeshift toast. “But happy 4th, I guess.” 

Merritt thinks about arguing -- saying that she doesn’t know anything about him, that she doesn’t even know his name, introducing herself and starting fresh -- but thinks better of it, instead pursing her lips at his incredibly astute observation. “For what it’s worth,” She says after a moment, “Not everything I know about you comes from Alba... quite a bit of it has, but you’ve got a reputation other than that, you know.” Whether it’s good or bad, is hard to say. Though it might seem that Hans stands for everything Merritt is against, it’s impossible to argue that he’s not good at what he does, if not one of the best. She has to admire talent where she sees it. 

“Oh... thank you.” She says, the compliment taking her off guard. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t enjoy the recognition, but it was difficult for her to make sense of the source. “If I ever tell this story, it’ll be somewhere less pathetic, don’t worry. You won’t be drinking alone in a bouncy castle in it.” Merritt laughs as he holds out his glass, holding her arm out in a similar gesture despite being empty handed. “Happy Fourth.” She repeats.