WHO: Miran Yildiz and Noelle Persaud @noellepersaud WHEN: Sunday, October 31st, 2021. (A day before the event. Also Halloween.) WHERE: The Grand Cavour Hotel, Noelle’s penthouse suite.
“We need to talk. Can I come in?” He said, once the door opened.
The penthouse was opulent in its splendor. Years and years ago, such luxury would startle him, generate envy and awe -- but he’d grown used to it by now. Miran glanced down at the Breitling watch that decorated his left wrist. “Sorry. I know it’s late. But it’s important. Have you seen the news?”
For much of the last few days, Miran had toiled in regret over his life choices, the good and the bad that led him to the life he had now. By all measurable factors, he had achieved success. He was a winning politician with devoted followers and proven victories to his name. He was able to help more people now than he ever could before. How many lives were improved by his work? Hundreds? Thousands? It was hard to say. There was so much good to be done, and if he’d helped ten thousand then he knew that there were ten thousand more waiting for a hand to lift them up. That was what he was here for, and the people loved him for it.
Until that damn reporter broke the story, anyways. And was it truly all that bad? Sure, he’d lied, but didn’t people expect that from their politicians -- even the good ones? He’d done more for the people than the opponent he’d slandered. Miran wasn’t typically a proponent of the ends justifying the means, but there were exceptions for everything.
Take Noelle, for example. She was his greatest exception. Noelle was a series of bad choices with the potential to spoil all the good he’d done. Miran hoped that the news of Ervig and Lorelei’s would cast a shadow of his own scandal, but it was clear that wasn’t the case.
“Additionally--” He ran a hand through his hair, which was more mussed than usual, “may I trouble you for a drink?”