emotion? in this economy?

gabriel vaserman. independent, ex-dem forty-nine player secretary of the treasury (secondary blog)

[stanleyreid]

“I hope you’re not here to push for gun control,” Stanley offers immediately upon arrival, scanning the new found visitor at the hallways of the White House. Not his visitor, necessarily, but if so they should know better than to block his way. “The interns,” – and if the word comes with disdain, it was meant that way –  “already exhausted me on that.” 

[vaserman]

“Ohh, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Gabriel chirrups, before softly pointing his phone towards Stanley. “I’m actually here to tell POTUS all about the collectivisation scheme in the works since college when my dorm mates and I were smoking copious amounts of marijuana.” Although, it seriously dawns on Gabriel that a serious push for gun control would be more difficult with cabinet members like Stanley around. “Are you busy? Perhaps, I could exhaust you on another topic of your choice. You’ve still got the stamina to stomach it, don’t you?” 

[vaserman]

julianberkeley:

As soon as Gabriel gives him the asked for attention, Julian sighs almost immediately. No such thing as learning from your mistakes. “Should I ask what liking his lobster a little too much means in this context?” It almost made Julian wonder what Gabriel’s criticism would be of Julian and his too-rare steak. “Just hunger, I’m afraid. I do have some breaks, believe it or not.”

Ideally, a deep and even faker laugh in response to the Veep’s inquiry would be Gabriel’s most caricature and appropriate reply. Unfortunately, the circumstances of a very nice restaurant prevented him from doing so. Gabriel clasps his hands together and places them on the table. “Just a fun pinch at ‘em. National budget? Expensive diner? Stuffing your face? I think it’s a metaphor that writes itself. Or just my big picture thinking, who knows.” His mouth remains wide in a sly smile. Gabriel allows a beat before loudly exhaling. He looks around, but almost randomly so, focusing on nothing. “Just here...by yourself?” 

[vaserman]

eackerman:

Liz rolled her eyes, a shake of the head offered as she took another sip from the (sadly, alcohol free) coffee that had come to replace her eggnog once more now that the festive season was over. 

“If y’all wanna call this place heartwarming, I ain’t gonna stop you. Whatever helps you get through the day. Suppose you ain’t being bothered by as many lobbyists no more now that you work for the president.”

His expression remained cheeky and vibrant in the face of his morning sleepiness. He appreciated her vibe and place in politics, albeit he didn’t pay too much attention. After all, he had been a rising star among the Dems too. “Yeah,” Gabriel replied, slowly turning the plate his pastry sat in. “Quite the change, I’ll admit. Being hassled all the time was why I took a break–” a tilt of the head and and lips pursed, “–but I get to hassle others now. But come on, doesn’t serving your country really get to your soul?” With a fist to his chest, the hyperbole made the sarcasm drip heavier. 

[vaserman]

hans-starke:

[TEXT: VASERMAN] - and what do your champagne suppliers have to say? [TEXT: VASERMAN] - well I’m not gay so I couldn’t fucking know

[TEXT: STARKE??] - I don’t know. My french is pretty shit nowadays. They’re based in New York though, can you believe it.     [TEXT: STARKE??] - It all trickles down, doesn’t it? I thought all millennial slang was like that. A staffer told me “on fleek” and “shade” was gay. You know, “culture”.  [TEXT: STARKE??] - Aren’t you technically a millennial? 

[hans-starkearchive]

[TEXT: ?] - Already made up your mind about the bill? [TEXT: ?] - Also, I think I just found the best takoyaki in DC 

[vaserman]

[TEXT: STARKE??] - Let’s just say I’m contacting my champagne suppliers [TEXT: STARKE??] - Please tell me this is literal and not some weird gay slang the kids are using

[vaserman]

gabriel + shit talking (???) 

[eackerman-blog1]

“I don’t know about you,” Liz started, coffee cup withdrawn from her lips and regarded with a certain distaste, “but I’m missin’ eggnog season already. Might have been the fact you could drink it during the day and all but nothin’ warms my heart quite like it.” 

[vaserman]

Despite eating the flaky goodness that was a fresh croissant — and since they were in the congress canteen, those adjectives were debatable but Gabriel had a good enough imagination to accept the pastry, but not enough to accept the morning. “I’m good on the carollers and Christianity though,” Gabriel replied, the next with a chuckle. “But come on Ackerman, we have a whole year of heartwarming politics.” 

[julianberkeleyarchive]

“Please,” Julian says, gesturing to the empty seat across from him. As Veep, he hardly took lunch or dinner breaks, as those meant thirty minutes too long that he was away from work. Call it an exception for allowing himself one. And even if inviting, the food on his plate was still mostly there. “I could use the company.”

[vaserman]

As if name-dropping his wife hadn’t been one of Gabriel’s lesser faux pas, yet he was glad all bad feelings seemed to be swept. “I could use the better company,” Gabriel said. “Funny seeing you here. Just finished a quick dinner with White House budget director, likes their lobster a little too much,” adding the latter remark with snide rise to his pitch, as if it hurt to say. Only the opposite was true, criticism of others came so easily to Gabriel. A swift motion of undoing his jacket button and leaning back into the chair later, Gabriel held his index finger up and pressed his lips together. “Do I have to guess what brings you to town?” 

[vaserman]

carrienewcomb:

Carrie couldn’t help huffing a quiet laugh under her breath, looking down into her glass for a moment. “You know that’s not exactly what I was getting at.” Though at the same time, his excitement was so clear she was almost tempted to just go on and indulge him, let him show her around all the open apartments in D.C. just because he could. But the conversation switched gears and she listened - quiet, face softening in sympathy. “Of course. It’s hard, people make assumptions, I understand. I’m just saying… You don’t have to put up a show because that’s what people expect. You don’t owe people anything.” She found herself brushing some hair off his forehead, the gesture affectionate. “Just be you. That’s enough.”

Oh, Carrie. Born and raised in D.C., surrounded by the game, but unaware of the board. Gabriel rarely pitied her. It was a weird thought to process. The contrast between their mutual presence in the capital widened though. “Apartments,” he said, so abruptly, as if blurting it out by accident. Anything to move on from politics. Not that he didn’t care about Carrie thought, it was just...painful to hear those so removed from it all. “Not something I owe you but hey, something we can think about.” He continued speaking quickly, to move the focus away from himself — an odd predicament for Gabriel. Placing his arm around her waist, he gestured with his head. “Uh, eleven o’clock. Absolute serendipity. David Colby: slim, balding over there. He has some of the better property around here. Rested and ready to ask for his opinion?” 

[vaserman]

carrienewcomb:

“I think it’s perfectly nice.” Carrie offered, always trying to find the diplomatic middle ground - as if someone like Elise Berkeley really needed Carrie to defend her. “It’s a beautiful house. You could probably fit three of our apartment in here.” She’d never been to Number One Observatory Circle - never dreamed she’d be at the Vice President’s home, clinging to the arm of the Secretary of the Treasury (her fiance) because she was so reluctant to let him out of her sight. “Just hope it stays that way. I don’t think I could take another party like Halloween.” She found herself frowning just at the thought, choosing to distract herself with a glance at the cup Gabriel was clutching. “You don’t have to put up appearances, you know. You can put it down.”

“Do you want a bigger apartment?” He said it so excitedly that it was almost threatening. However, Gabriel did mean it. He felt safe with Carrie, so assured by her gentle grasp and warm presence. It was a mix of genuinely wanting it for her and being jealous of the other cabinet couple. “You know it’s no trouble at all, still got my savings, this time of year is best to look for new places plus–” he continued on until he noticed her eye move towards his hands. He gripped the cup a little tighter in reaction. Sighing, he did relax and did as she suggested. The free hand scratched his head and he winced as he spoke. “It’s all about appearances. You understand, don’t you?” He voiced change to mock supposedly other people, but Gabriel was never the best imitator. “It’s the holidays, celebrate! Oh, you’re not drinking? Why’s that? And usually it’s not even that, just a glared. They know something’s off.” He cleared his throat. “Did I tell you about the time I responded with ‘I’m pregnant’. Classic.” 

[kanjabeto-deactivated20180421]

[vaserman]

julianberkeley:

“Really, Vaserman?” Julian asks, the single eyebrow raised the only indicator that he wasn’t completely bored. Whatever filled that gap was, well, indifferent. “You come over for Christmas just to insult my pregnant wife?" 

It was the sort of thing Julian expected out of the likes of Natalie Meyer — who hadn’t yet said something as low in the three hours she’d been there; a record, no doubt —, but not out of the President’s chosen Treasury Secretary. At the very least, it says something about Wright’s poor judgement. (She’d chosen him, after all. Julian, who would rather see her name on a tombstone rather than any other campaign banner.) 

"I’d return the favor on Carrie, but let’s just be glad one of us has manners.”

Gabriel jolted, although softly, as the comment was unintended to have the VP’s ear. But like anything that came out of his mouth, Gabriel took responsibility for what he said. “Take a joke, Berkeley.” It was his way of levelling himself with the other. After all, he struggled to gain Theresa’s attention while she seemed satisfied with him. “And belated congratulations,” he added softly. 

“Her taste in decorations isn’t a comment on her as a person, don’t make me go on the nation knows,” Gabriel continued, breathing deeply before adjusting his sleeves. “And if you’re implying that her pregnancy affects her judgement, well, that’s what the kids call misogyny, isn’t it?” With a flashed smile and accompanying click, Gabriel wanted to keep the spirits up for the holidays. Mentioning Carrie usually sent him into nervous and messy defence, but he was holding up well — or better than he expected. 

[vaserman]

gwencalhoun:

On her second (fourth) glass of champagne, Gwen already made her rounds to show face. Part of her likes to think it was to be friendly, but more than likely she liked to make these appearance as a reminder that she’s still here. In case anyone forgot, which is unlikely but it never hurts. While heels have become second nature at this point, these new ones aren’t broken in quite yet and she’s in need of a small rest. Finding refuge in secluded area, she’s perched on the arm of a chair.

 “What? Does the oversized. gaudy tree in the foyer not meet your taste?” Gwen chimes in with an amused chuckle, taking a sip from her glass. “Figured that’s all the cheer you’d need or else it’d look downright tacky.” She muses, gaze flickering to the man next to her. 

Facing the mythical Gwen Calhoun himself was a rarity. At an event, it was nice to divulge. There was no urgency nor panic, just the warm pulse of the winter holiday. She was probably more familiar with his former chief of staff. Oh, the mess they had to clean sometimes. 

“I think I’m the oversized gaudy tree sometimes,” he remarked, snorting a little. Pressing his lips together, he further scanned their surroundings. Gabriel placed his cup down and gestured his open palms in vaguely circular motion. “It needs a bit more cheer. Optimism for the new year. But too much cheer, and you’d be out of a business, no?” 

Perhaps as a Jewish man, he wasn’t the biggest expert on the holiday. However, he was still a proper American where Christmas was part of his actual religion: capitalism. 

[vaserman]

He held a paper cup of mulled wine, thankful for the opaque material. It was a prop. A lukewarm prop still filled to the brim after a few hours of holding it around. He’d done his rounds of greetings from Christmas, Hanukkah, the Winter Solstice. A Representative from New York looked just about ready to cuff him for his Kwanzaa attempt before someone pulled him away from the tension. However, he couldn’t go on because it all rang of environmental talk. It was expected from Gabriel, the former tree-hugger liberal senator. Too much of it dampened the mood, as his paper cup started to become as well. 

He found a quieter spot where the crowd was muffled, before taking a big look around the main room. 

“Jeez, what’s with the interior design? You think the Second Lady was too occupied to decorate the place for tonight or something.” He raised the cup, of course not fully sipping it. A pantomime to hide his substance issues. “I’ve seen worse but still...seen...better.” 

[senator-ross-deactivated2017123]

Alan was getting ready to head off to a tennis match; he’d already changed at his office since the changing rooms at the courts weren’t all that nice. With his tennis bag slung over his shoulder, he was thinking about the latest bill. Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder and he just about jumped out of his skin. “Jesus fucking - ,” he swore. He didn’t like being sneaked upon.

Once the initial jump scare was out of the way and his heart beat could start to return to normal, he sighed, “Sorry about that. Obviously I don’t do well with people sneaking up on me. What is it?”

[vaserman]

“Is this the secret to a long life?” Gabriel asked, sounding like a pre-amble as much as he could muster but using the time to remember why he’d approached Alan. Without asking, he touched the tennis bag softly. “Apart from the near heart attack on your face. Wow.” A soft smile momentarily stretched on his face in amusement. 

He pulled his hand back and hesitated before pointing forward. “I can walk with you,” he replied, increasing his pace to stand beside him. While getting a rise out of others was amusing, Gabriel didn’t think Alan was worth the trouble and the least he could do was treat the senior politician nicer. “Would it depress you too much to say bill-related?” 

[dianahartley-archive]

@vaserman

Diana had gotten the call from Savannah’s school.  She’d been complaining about her ear and had a fever.  Unfortunately, that meant Diana needed to slip out of her meetings and pick her daughter up.  The nanny could have, if the woman hadn’t been on vacation.  The woes of being a single mother.  So, Diana picked Savannah up from school and took her to the ER to get an antibiotic for her ear infection.  After giving the little girl the dose and some painkillers, she knew she couldn’t just take her home.  No doubt Savannah would have to be home sick tomorrow and Diana couldn’t ignore her responsibilities.

With her daughter at her side, Diana stopped by her office to pick up the files she needed and instructed her chief of staff with what to do while she was out of the office.  With her bag over her shoulder, she held Savannah’s hand when they left.  What Diana didn’t expect was to come face to face with Gabe in the middle of Capitol Hill.  Diana nearly bumped into him and she pulled Savannah protectively into her side.

“Gabe,” Diana started, the surprise in her tone.  “I didn’t expect to see you.  Hi.”  She glanced down at Savannah then, her fingers lovingly stroking her daughter’s hair back from her face.  “Sweetie, you remember Gabe, right?”

Savannah nodded.  “Yeah, Mom.  I remember.”  She shifted her gaze to him then, looking up at him with her big brown eyes.  “Hi Gabe.”

[vaserman]

If there was something Gabriel could tell his younger hopeless self, it was that someday in his life he look like a legitimate professional. Gabriel could do the part but he could never sell it. First elected when he was relatively young, he had a supposed work ethic but a baby face. Now, he could look the part because he’d perfected the walk. He saw other men with plenty of confidence fill their posture and hyped up to be occupied with their task, on the go, now that was him. 

In his suit but with his tie loosened, he was replying to messages but took purposeful strides and was satisfied to know he looked good. Classy, modern, and busy — all steadied by his good posture. It was just his luck that these steady shoulders had to nearly bump into Diana. His eye line saw the children’s shoes before they identified Diana. He immediately locked his phone and put it away. 

“Ms Hartley, it’s so lovely to see you,” Gabriel greeted. “And good to see you too, Diana.” Perhaps there was no better proof of paternity, than a bad joke worthy of dads. He gently rubbed his hands together before clasping them. Before a finger on his chin and pointing at Savannah, squinting his eyes. He could feel Diana’s judgment already. “I know you,” he said in a light tone. “You’re very important, yes, you’re her new assistant? Aren’t you? Something more important than her if you ask me.” His eyes had rolled towards Diana, and the last few words were said practically through his teeth as he grimaced, cueing a chuckle from Savannah because in fairness, his face did look funny. 

Although it weren’t for Carrie, he probably wouldn’t even have the material to come up with that appraisal.  

And in the middle of the street, he crouched down to Savannah’s level. At 6′1″, he figured it was a bit terrifying. Extending a hand, he added with great emphasis. “And it’s always good to give a solid handshake to respectful important people.”  

[vaserman]

// @quicovidal

“Come on, it’s my treat. My treat.” Gabriel tried to snatch the menu up. While he refrained from drinking alcohol, he was referring to the luxury sake that must’ve been plated with gold to have the price tag it did. “My house is mere blocks from here it’ll be fine.” His Japanese friends in Hawaii had introduced him to the concept of izakayas. It was like tapas but rowdy, which fit right up Gabriel’s surplus energy after a day of his mentally tedious jobs (accountant, finance, congressman and the treasury were all dull at the deeper level).

“We can talk business after,” he said with emphasis on the last word. Concerning the bill, Gabriel was oddly relaxed. Aside from consultation with the proposed budget, it was a relatively hands-free experience. He wasn’t a fool to think his ‘productive meetings’ with oil executives would work. It was just easier to fake it until it made itself. Others would step up or be subjected to sorting the details. People like him could then publicly comment and claim the progress. “There’s nothing wrong with a little pre-celebration. You’re just, just more tight than Wright’s pussy, aren’t you. Relax, Vidal, relax.” He drummed the counter and even as far to give it a final hit when he stopped talking.