Toska: a dull ache of the soul, a sick pinning, a spiritual anguish. London, the system, Spencer, or Delphine.
Val always knew this was coming. Maybe not always, but most of the time. Her ambitions were always bigger than being someone else’s mouthpiece.
She always thought she was too anal to let someone else control her schedule and her press releases, but maybe if she was lucky, she’d find a Val for herself. Besides, she’d hardly be starting off as chief whip. And there were familiar faces she’d get to interact with as she fought to oversee their interests.
It was definitely a surprise to hear about the Romford MP’s sudden health demise. Certainly, she’d never anticipated the event. And yet, here she was, thrown headfirst into a battle she was determined to win with what she felt was a leg up on the competition. Admittedly, the worst part was drafting her letter of resignation.
She knew Spencer had to see it coming when he heard the knew. There was no point in pretending to be better humans than they actually were - they both knew one man’s death was another woman’s opportunity. Neither of them got into politics because they cared about the means more than the end.
Still...still, writing her resignation letter was a slow and agonizing process. When it seemed as perfect as it could be, she still waited a day before she printed it. She considered how to deliver it for some time. Should she leave it in his mailbox before she knew he might take a longer break over the weekend? Would it hurt him if she didn’t deliver it in person? He was the chief fucking whip she couldn’t get on his bad side already...No, don’t be so bitchy, beyond that he was so much more to her than could ever be qualified in a single word. A friend, mentor, confidant, boss...and so much more. No, she couldn’t simply drop the note and walk away.
She waited until she felt it was the right moment before knocking on the door. She used a different knock than usual, but the strength of the knock signaled who it was before she walked in. And the paper in her hands signaled why she was there before she placed it down in front of Spencer. Don’t be emotional. The mantra hardly worked as she swallowed back a lump in her throat and tapped the paper for emphasis. “Got any vodka?”