Thankfully, Steve knew exactly what generation that Alexis was talking about. Boomers. That’s what he’d heard Sam call them, at least. The generation that came from his, the one after the Silent Generation. Apparently, they caused a lot of issues in the political sphere, and Steve really didn’t know where people his age went wrong, there. It’d always been a family atmosphere in the Borough, but that was the past. Times had changed and apparently morals had, too. Screw Boomers. Steve didn’t respect bullies, no matter how old they were.Â
         Steve may be all for freedom of choice, but he wasn’t the type to throw bricks through windows unless there was good reason. Like the Black Lives Matter movement, of course. But there were other ways to rebel and sometimes they had more decisive action taken in reply because of it. “Never met the guy, but yeah, he was a good President. For the most part. But don’t you think it’d be a little weird that someone run social media accounts for me? It feels a bit disengenuine.” Steve scratched at the beheaded mass of hair atop his scalp, squinting his eyes.Â
“Not at all,” Alexis insists with a wave of her hand. “It’s actually, like, extremely common for someone of your celeb status to have social media managers. It’s not because you aren’t a genuine person! But you’re just, like, way too busy saving the world to worry about your twitter mentions.” She flips her pad closed and instantly feels strangely bereft without her giant prop to work with, wriggling in place. She wants him to understand, but doesn’t want to overwhelm him, either.
“The thing is, someone as famous as you can have hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions of followers, from all over the world, all of them constantly posting at you, wanting just a second of your attention. And if you give them that second? Now, they think they’re entitled to a minute, and if you give them a minute they want an hour, they’re never satisfied. And if you say even the tiniest bit of a wrong thing they attack, and it’s just, like, so easy to get sucked up into it and let it ruin your day. Believe me, I know. My shipping heir ex-boyfriend used to send his followers after me every time we broke up.”
She perches on the edge of his bed, barely even touching it in case he decides that’s a bridge too far. “Honestly, it’s better for your mental health if you let my team run the accounts. They’ll still be your accounts, we’ll never post anything without your permission, or anything you don’t find totally genuine to who you are. My job is just to add a little bit of shiny pretty polish to make your genuine self more...palatable. Spoonful of sugar, and all that fun stuff! What do you think?”
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