Disclaimer: This thing destroys my soul.
A/N: It's a really short filler chapter, but I have to start work on this at some point.
A/N2: Merry Christmas to Tay. I know I haven't written much (read any) of this, but as soon as I have the time to really focus on it, I will.
Simon stepped into his campaign headquarters and was hit by the flow of conversation, none of it directed at him. Joey, Kenny, and Josh stood to one side, and though Josh seemed calm, he could see a look in his campaign manager's eye that said he was longing for a fight.
"It's been reported in the Post that the Joint Chiefs are uncomfortable with having Kenny in the Sit. Room."
"Then the Joint Chiefs can learn sign language," Kenny interpreted.
"We can't say that."
"Why not?"
"It sounds disrespectful to the Chiefs."
"It is disrespectful to the Chiefs!" Joey yelled, abandoning the use of Kenny.
---
Donna cornered Toby by her desk as he walked by. "Toby! Me and some of the others have been having a debate – I think, and Chloe agrees, that if the Senator wore a black tie with a black suit, he would look like he was going to a funeral."
"And you're telling me this because?" Toby said, in his typical tone.
"What do you think?"
He massaged his temple, closing his eyes. "Donna, you know I wouldn't care if Fuller put on a yellow tie and a neon green suit, why are you asking me?!"
"I was just looking for your opinion," she said, in a slightly offended tone.
"He should wear the black tie."
"Why? He looks like he's going to a funeral!"
"Because the black tie people haven't asked me about it!"
---
He cleared his throat loudly, and five heads snapped around to look at him, Kenny tapping Joey's shoulder. "Good morning, Senator," they chorused, sounding like guilty children.
He took a deep breath. "Donna, give me the tie, don't give me the tie, chances are if it looks bad, Soph and Gordon won't let me wear it anyway. Toby, do not implant ideas in her head, neon green is not my colour."
"It's vaguely disturbing that you know that, sir," Toby quipped.
"Simon," was his only response. "And Josh, you're my campaign manager. Stop picking fights with the Democratic Vice-Presidential candidate because you're in a bad mood, and start on thinking how we deal with the fact that the next polls are out tomorrow and we're going down six points."
"Senator, can I ask that you don't say that in front of a camera?"
"We're going down six, Josh."
"Sure we are, just not in front of the cameras."
Simon let the point slide. "I need an office in this place."
As soon as he brought this up, Donna, Toby, Joey and Kenny, slipped away.
"Thanks for the support guys!" Josh yelled after them, before turning back. "You don't get one."
"I need to read up on immigration. I have four bills, five memos and a Wikipedia page."
"I don't care."
Simon sat in the nearest chair, at the desk of a speechwriting underling, and pulled a file from his bag.
"Senator, really?"
"Yes, Josh, really."
-----
Annabeth skipped through the doors humming to herself chirpily. The first thing she saw was Simon, sitting resolutely at his desk in front of an exasperated Josh and a somewhat terrified speechwriting intern. "You know you're not meant to do that, Senator," she scolded as she slowed her skip to a bouncing walk. The… date, yes date, with Leon had been wonderful, he was a genuinely sweet and caring guy, he'd listened to her, and been… genuine and sweet and caring. She looked up at the TV screen, dampening her mood. It was Sullivan's press conference, repeating on every news channel. "I'm calling a meeting," she announced. "My office."
"No can do," said Simon. "If I get up, Josh will throw me out the building."
"Fine. Everyone pull up a chair!!"
There was a loud scuffling as everyone hastened to get near.
"We need to do something about this," Josh began.
Annabeth shot a mock glare at him. "Exactly my point. Let's brainstorm."
The room fell silent.
"It's a terrorist attack," the Senator's voice was grave. "There's nothing we can do, and we shouldn't even be talking about it that way. I want to win guys, but this one's out of our hands." His cell phone went off, and he groaned. "And as much as I hate the pleasure this will have give Josh, I have to go."
Josh's fist moved at his side, a miniature sign of triumph.
"So we're still screwed," concluded Annabeth.
"Screwed," agreed Josh.
"Royally screwed," added Toby, as the press conference clips began to play over again.
Merry Christmas everyone!!
