Daddy A fic sneak-peek under cut (don't worry, it's sfw, it's hidden just because it's Daddy A after all)
When campainging for the post of the Chukotka governor, people at the meetings asked him various questions. You seem too young for the post, are you married? That was one of their big concerns, for some reason, as if being married was synonymous with being a good person. But he smiled and nodded and responded nontheless, yes, he is. He didn't mention it was his second marriage. For all he cared, it wasn't really important - but when the question resurfaced at every meeting with the public, he decided to uncover a little bit of his private life and invited a reporter to his home - the official, presentable one, simply furnished clean appartment that could belong to anyone, and he had Irina prepare some pancakes and salads and cold cuts and pose in front of the set table. She wasn't the best of cooks, but it mattered little when the focus of the article were the homely comforts of the simple lifestyle of the Abramoviches.
Other questions were not so easy to answer.
Roman Arkadyevich, we haven't been paid in a week. How will you solve that?
I go to the shop every day, and every day, the potatoes are mouldy. Or they don't have potatoes at all. How are we supposed to live and work when we can't even buy potatoes? And the prices...
What is the use of food stamps when you can't even rely on the deliveries?
My mother needs to undergo an operation, but we don't have a car. There are no buses. No one is going to give her a ride to Anadyr. Not with the prices of the gas -
He learned to listen. Tilt his head, give the auditorium an understanding smile, of course, of course, he cares deeply about their issues, he understands, he knows what it's like to live at what feels like the end of the world, where minutes drag on like years, he himself grew up far away from Moscow, in the north, in the Komi republic - he cautiously doesn't name the city that was ten times as populous as Andyr, just to keep up the charade - and he knows how it feels to be lonely and small.