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[jokorbel]

Jo Korbel | Wikipedia

[jokorbel]

Like father, like Daughter | Jo & Lilah

@delilahcconnelly​ | Country Club, 2pm

Delilah Connelly, now that was a girl just like her father. Unlike her brother, she had politics running in her veins, which is unfortunate because well, Michael was her father, which solidified her place in life as second within her own family. It was sad, but Jo had minimal sympathy. After all, in the 50s, the decade of her birth, women were treated far worse and considering she escaped a father who sold her off to the highest bidder (rather literally) she was of the mind that you were only as fucked as you let yourself be.

That said, she had to respect Lilah in some ways. The girl clearly had learnt the age-old strategy of using the hubris of men against them to succeed. Whether TJ’s dick and wallet were worth it remained to be seen but the polls were already chirping that the girl had made the wrong dice roll. And like a vulture circling the casino for a new mark, Jo could smell an opportunity. 

She arrived early on purpose at the country club restaurant a little out of DC. Like everything, it served a purpose - she had no doubt that Lilah’s father took her to similar spots if not this very place. She was surprisingly donning in casual wear, well her version, a simple long dress with a splash of colour and a loose pearl necklace. Her sunglasses pressed against her nose, hiding her eagle eyes as she sat out in the outer area smiling as she spotted the youngster.

Time to spring the lure. Jo thought to herself before getting up and making the surprising move to step over to the girl and offer her a somewhat cordial hug. The senator had after all known her from a young age. “Gosh, you’re looking so...grown.” 

“I couldn’t quite believe my eyes when I saw you on tv dear, but I can see it’s all quite real. Thanks for coming and indulging an old lady.”

[jokorbel]

nataliefuckingmeyer‌:

Natalie thinks it’d be fair to say that no meeting she has scheduled with a Senator– let alone one running for President– has ever begun like this. For the most part, she gets no meeting at all, or a door slammed in her face, or an assistant fired when the Senator realizes the mistake they’ve made. Rarely does she ever get a meeting as Natalie Meyer, Editor-in-Chief of The Witness, and even rarer still, do they openly admit that they like her and her work. 

She isn’t shocked– but of course, she kind of is, and is oddly quiet as she sits down in the chair across from Senator Korbel’s desk. She laughs at her joke and accepts the bourbon when it’s offered, despite the time and the setting, like she’s waiting for the shoe to drop. 

“Oh, we always find something to write about,” Natalie replies, crossing one leg over the other. “There’s no shortage of politicians with staffers who hate them.” As a matter of fact, she should find out exactly why the man before her had shattered the glass of Jo’s office. She makes a note to try and find him when she leaves. 

“And I’m a fan of yours, Senator Korbel,” Natalie says, the compliment genuine if not seemingly prompted. “Off the record, I was thrilled to hear that you were running. I think you’ll throw a pretty big fucking wrench into whatever Bell’s got planned.” She smiles, and adds: “If he’s even got one, I suppose.”

They say a week is a long time in politics, but the politicians who only look that far are the true losers. A true player knows how to gaze beyond the cycle and chain the link of every small event to accumulate into a grand finale. Jo had once fallen into the pitfall in her younger years back in state politics, too consumed by every small scandal and forgetting the goldfish memory of her constituents. But with age comes wisdom or so they say, though in reality wisdom was just another term for craftiness and an ability to be more refined in how you fucked someone over. 

So, it was no accident that Natalie arrived right before an altercation occurred. It was a real dispute, there was no point inserting lies into a story, that creates a weak link, but Jo wasn’t dumb. The man had been flagged up by her team before she’d even invited him, and she had no doubt she could inflame a negative response from him. All that had been left was making sure the right eyes were there to witness it. The painting produced itself. A lone female senator not afraid to face the violent angry men around her, strong in her opinions and refusing to hide. A great image to portray in a field dominated by men. Who said she couldn’t court some feminism to her side just because she’s republican?

Whether Natalie ran with the story wasn’t 100% certain, but there was no harm planting the idea in the reporter’s head. Jo knew that there was no way the editor of a rag as invasive as the Witness wouldn’t at least check up later. But that was the weeks ahead, the senator did also have to handle the actual moment, which had its own purpose. The senator couldn’t help smiling at the comment regarding staffers. “Of course, I can only imagine the salacious things some of them have seen.”

Believe it or not, Jo hadn’t expected the compliment and sipped her bourbon a moment as she raised an eyebrow. “Well I have to admit, that’s preferable to being called a bitch.”

“I’m going to keep things pretty direct, Natalie, if I may call you that, I’m not one for waffling about. Where do you see Witness’ place in this upcoming election?” There it was, the lioness slinking through the grass and lifting her up to see where the snakes lay. 

Smash and Grab | Open

[jokorbel]

joedamatojr‌:          

“Might want to after this conversation,” Joe says with a smile as humourless as hers but filled with something more akin to dread. 

The main advice leading Joe to vote for the bill was that people would see his decision as a positive one, albeit from the wrong side of the aisle. It’d be his John McCain moment… without ruining the economy. Instead, however, Joe’d been subjected to countless conversations like this. Anger has always been louder and it was exhausting. Hopefully history would judge him more kindly.

Joe places the piece of glass on the table, not far from arm’s reach for he suspects he will probably have to use it on his jugular vein sixty seconds in.

Recent behaviour, he almost smirks as he takes the seat in front of her desk. “Really?” Joe says, all too sarcastic. He knows he’s treading on ice with cracks forming below his feet with every word he breathes.

She makes a comment about his family and he fails to suppress the grin that spreads along his lips. Well, that makes two of us, he wants to say in response but he bites his tongue in this instance. Apparently, he does hold the tiniest bit of self-preservation. “But you do care about their money. I mean,” he shrugs, “Everyone does.”

“Uh– look, Jo, in all seriousness…” Hands clasped together, Joe taps his thumb together, lips pursed in a juvenile manner as he clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. Nerves? Definitely. “I’ll have a coffee, please, if that’s alright. Black, no sugar.”

Politics had a great way of scaring the shit out of people. It was quite a brilliant tool at times, sometimes the brevity of institutions and the titles they give could weigh on someone like a brick. That was what Jo was seeing right now in Joe, hidden beneath his rather faint veneer of humour was fear. Which was quite right, if he thought the war was bad, he had yet to see what a poor political legacy can do to someone’s life. People forget the war, they never forget the betrayal

“I do, but you see the beauty of DC is there are many, many pockets. If you think I can’t find another that doesn’t lose me votes, well my dearest little Joey, you underestimate quite how long I’ve been doing this.” There’s a surprising warmth to her voice like she was talking to a student or even her own flesh and blood. You could be fooled into thinking it was advice if not for the facts of the words themselves cutting like a deadly knife of truth.

“However, there’s only one RNC and well Joe, I know it more than you know your own reflection, which you clearly look at a lot.” The senator leant forward, and suddenly the room’s last cast down with her, as her blue eyes settled on him with a viper like intensity. 

At the request for coffee, she laughed and for a moment he was offered some safet7 as she leant back and pressed her phone, offering the order to her secretary. Joe could have been transported to the local friendly coffee shop by the sudden blitheness in her tone. Then it collapsed again as Jo offered him her truth. It was said as simply as a recipe in a book, the very steps and outcome laid bare.

“You know how I’m the whip? Because I’m not afraid to crack it and even more importantly, kick out the dusty rats out when they start to chew the wrong way. One word from me, and I’ll ensure that your next campaign can be funded by your own credit card and with enough challengers that your state will be flooded with ads pointing out each of your fuck-ups.”

“So Joe, tell me why I shouldn’t do it?”

Smash and Grab | Open

[jokorbel]

hans-starke‌:

At the debacle, Hans barely blinks an eye. He’s too loyal to his own professional persona as to let the mask crack; otherwise, he’d be laughing at it all.

“Bet you don’t hear that everyday,” he says, nonchalant. With a career as extensive as Jo Korbel’s, there is no such thing as a spotless image — and with the remarks she tends to make, especially so. Hans steps into her office, staring down at the shattered glass. All this mess, and they missed it. “Congratulations on your speech, Senator. A lot of Americans were quite invested in it, and the prospect of a real candidate stepping into the race.” His gaze drifts away from the flooring and the debris, shifting upwards as to meet her eye. “Of course, that’s why I’m here. You’re very expressive about all of your opinions, Senator, and we admire that.” We, a perfect stand-in for Oil. “Though of course, that raises the question on what you think about us.”

“Oh I do, just normally in whispers and angry letters. I like to think it a compliment, I’m important enough for people to hate.” Jo offered with a harmless shrug as she just swished back into her room, like a queen returning to her throne, as if it wasn’t covered in glass. She took her seat with guile, and yet as she sat straight-backed and staring at Hans there was a sense she was completely relaxed too, a readable sliver of a smile on her lips. She’d expected this little social call, and if she played it right, it was the start of the sails beneath her presidential wings. 

She reached under her desk and pulled out a fine crystal decanter, pouring two glasses without even asking. In politics, you learnt to read people and she knew Starke wasn’t one to refuse a glass of fine booze. She slid it across as he spoke about her speech. “You flatter me, Hans, I’m just making sure that the candidates really get a run for their money.”

“Take a seat Hans, I’m happy to answer whatever you wish.” Jo gestured to the seat before completely leisurely in her movements, like a senator from the Roman ages greeting a guest. One could half expect her in a toga and a servant feeding her grapes.

“I’ll keep it very simple to start. I am of course, very receptive to oil, it’s a great asset of our country. But I’m sure you want more than my words...”

Smash and Grab | Open

[jokorbel]

silassanford‌:

It’s a lesson that one learned later in life; that some people made better friends than lovers. He’d been wild in his youth, able to get almost anyone he wanted into his bed. He’d settled down after he’d gotten married, though that had been more out of necessity than anything. But after his son had been born, after he had begun to single-mindedly focus on his career, he’d cared less to be so reckless. Allies (and dare he say it, even friends) were more valuable than a momentary distraction of pleasure. Of course, it’s not as if he’d never thought about getting remarried. In the light of his lofty ambitions, he wondered if that might be a necessity… but that was a bridge he would cross when he got there.  If he could secure the position of running mate to whoever might be the Republican nominee, well… his days of being on his own might come to an end. Though, he had never thought of it that way: Henry was all he had ever needed in his life. Johanna let go of him, slipping into the seat set for her. He flashed her back a smile as he left, catching her words as she went away, as if she’d wished to not give a chance to respond. He doesn’t say anything, only mulled over the words. He did enjoy her company; he thought of her as clever and adept at the political game. Of course, that made her dangerous too. That is the problem, isn’t it? When everyone you know and like was dangerous. He returned with a bottle of wine in his hand, a fine red vintage that he kept for occasions such as these (business disguised as dinners). He poured with elegant ease, his gaze set on her while he did. He set the bottle on the table. “I’ll be back with the food in a moment,” he continued. Gone in a second and returned just as quickly, he brought out two plates with a juicy steak on each, with a side of autumn vegetables. Finally, he sat down. “Did you want to say grace or can we dig in?” He teased gently.

Danger, danger, danger. It lurks in the lives of the powerful, a shadow from whom you can rarely escape the cast. Its funny, many wish to have the life of those with power, the ability to change and do things, to matter. But as Jo sat primly in Silas’ home, her eyes looking over his smartly and painfully decorated rooms, it felt trapping. Not that she’d give it up for the world, but the truth was it, powerlessness was a freedom. Those with the strings had a million things to think upon because what they did truly matter. You lose chances to be blissfully small and ignorant. How easy a life is to blame your ills on others instead of realizing that the only thing that can bring your own house down is yourself.

It was a sobering thought, and for a moment, she found herself uncharacteristically consumed by it. It was a flicker, a small tick of self-awareness and she hated it. Sometimes the senator truly wished she was far less aware of the world than she was, she’d seen many other political operators gladly be idiots and live at peace with the tragedy of their perilous positions. Damn Silas too, for only around him could she wonder on such matters, as if he ticked her into a far more humane prospective than she was happy in.

Thankfully he arrived with wine and she could keep her mind focused on his guile movements and eyes on the sloshing red liquid, pouring like a blood offering. She could feel the strength of his gaze, but only returned it once he spoke, a faint, ageless smile on her lips. “Making me wait again, tsk, Silas...”

At the mention of grace upon the senator’s return, Jo found herself letting out a far more girlish chuckle than she cared to give. Hormones for you. Her amused blue eyes glinted in the lights, her hair swishing like a old-aged shampoo advert, which is no surprise considering how much she spent on it. “We...I mean I can save that for the campaign trail, I’ll be talking of god far more than I care to as it is.”

“Now sit you rascal, I want to get a good look at you.” The slip of we had been deliberate, the opening silo of this game they were now going to play. It was her pawn to E4, time for the other to reply.

[jokorbel]

Jeff Sessions press conference in a GIF.

[jokorbel]

The New York Times, 09/12/19: “Admiral William Bell is everything wrong with politics” by Senator Jo Korbel @cbcnetwork​ @admiralbell​

Unfortunately as many people look out at the political landscape they are left wondering who they’re truly voting for. Is it the man in the poster, the smooth voice heard reading the teleprompter or the aggressive debater on the stage? Behind a candidates’ name and their request for a vote in their favour, who is behind our candidates, what drives and motives them and when do we truly know that they have our interest at heart?

Back in the 18th Century and beyond, we could rely on a society-wide notion of honour. Despite how flawed that idea became as time went on, it was a trait by which everyone strove to live by, a matter of life or death and the making of every decent citizen. And so our politicians were considered honest as required by their duty to honour. But any such noble concepts are long now meaningless, in a world where we are happy to lie, cheat and defy with impunity. In times such as these, words no longer hold any weight as their choice and cadence has little reflection as one’s honest self so long as the deceit is not criminal.

Therefore we are left with one simple measure, actions. The only way we can truly gauge someone’s character and their earnest thoughts is what they were willing to do in order to achieve them. Our politicians often therefore try to hide their own acts and votes behind anonymity often refusing to state before a vote and hoping to be hidden within the herds after. Its by lack of mention that the men and women of Capitol Hill get away with a clear dichotomy of action and speech, the inconsistencies of their narratives only visible to the select view who go out of their way to catalog and research it.

There is no better display of this than the current candidate list for President and it underlines my own personal reasons for entering the race. Let us quickly do what many do not and see if the actions taken by those vying for power truly match the words that they love to espouse.

Our case for today is William Bell. Admiral, veteran, patriarch. It’s a commendable set of titles that has historically produced strong leadership and that same honour-bound mentality that I touched on earlier. However, it is easy for us to get lost in the old notions of military men, who care only for country and not for themselves, as they have give up their safety for our own. I do not doubt that many of our troops embody this to their heart and I have the utmost pride for our military institutions, but men like Bell use these precious set of beliefs as a shield to hide away their more political, self-serving ideas.

Bell espouses himself firstly as republican and secondly as a leader. However his dual loyalties expose him to an ugly truth. One runs for president because they strongly believe they provide an alternate and that there is something chronically wrong with either the current administration or those who wish to form another one. In the admiral’s case it is sensible that both must be true, else what could drive him to stand on the stage?

Yet, when one looks at the man’s actions, they paint a different picture. The first point should be an obvious one but I find it rarely mentioned, delegated to the shadows of critical thought. William Bell is standing against Julian Berkeley, in fact a great thrust of Bell’s campaign has been centered on his opposition to Berkeley. Bell works as Chief of Naval Operations. Not only is this a Providentially approved role, but the central premise of it is to answer to federal bodies, the President (as Command-in-chief), his defense secretary and the secretary of the navy. Let us be clear too that all of these posts are held by those whose objectives are aligned with the President and the democratic party.

So it is then plain to see that farce that is Bell’s campaign. On the one hand he is a staunch defender of republican values and rights but in reality he is happy to play stooge to the same man he claims to oppose. Why does the Admiral commit such a transparent act of self-preservation? The answer is simple. A pay check. Because despite the contribution to this country, he has fallen into the same cadre as many politicians today - he will do anything for money.

One might try to argue that Bell is trying to do right by his military comrades by acting as an effective leader, after all military matters are in some regards distinct to political (though let us not deny that one certainly effects the other). However this fallacy can easily be debunked. To so publicly have their leader standing on a political platform for the whole country to see only ostracizes and creates a negative environment for those who may not agree to the Admiral’s philosophy.

And so, William Bell is neither a honest republican and nor is he a good leader, his love for money sacrificing both.

The decent, honourable, thing would have been the Admiral resigning in order to run, however political honesty has degraded to far that men like William Bell. He must think that such notions of decency no longer apply to him so long as he has medals pinned to his chest. Let us not even touch on the myriad of inconsistencies, lies and fantasy in his policies and stated beliefs, because they pale in the comparison to a man whose belief in service to America begins and ends at the length of his pay check.

Jo Korbel is running as a 2020 Presidential Candidate. Her platform is focused on being an honest clear proponent of conservative values and she intends to take America forward while keeping it the center of freedom around the world. 

[jokorbel]

laurelsmiller‌:

@jokorbel‘s office, 10PM

She has no idea what she’s about to walk into. It was naive of Laurel to think the people that seated on the Hill were different from everyone else, and that the establishment that ran this country was above pettiness and low-blows to get what they wanted – if anything, the Senate was the viper’s nests and Jo Korbel was surely their leader. 

The senator from Arkansas was always a character, one Laurel thought dangerous, but after the effusive announcement made after the presidential debate, and the action taken in so short a time, she knew Jo was in it to win it. And she had to doubt she could succeed.

The clicking of her heels on the marble floor was the only thing that could be heard, silence reigning this late at night. When she got to the door, Laurel just stood there, unmoving and in silence, adjusting her skirt and smoothing her blouse, holding on tighter to her handbag and taking a deep breath before finally knocking on the door, waiting for it to open.

People always underestimate the little ones, especially on Capitol Hill. Egos get so large that they fill the very halls themselves and leave those beneath them drenched in the shadow of obscurity. But they were fools. Jo herself had come from nothing, and she knew what it was to be a peripheral. Unlike many in Congress, she didn’t spring board from university or a famous family, she worked from the bottom up. Lowly city council member to mayor to the house and then the senate. She’s touched nearly every aspect of civil structure and in doing so learned the value of the lowest employees to the highest flyers. There was power in being unknown and lacking the limelight and often decisions can be found rooted in the actions of the small rather than the proclamations of the large.

And so, with that very thought in mind, she made her way towards her door at the sound of the knock, offering a small cordial smile to Laurel Miller on the side. Laurel was a diamond in the rough, a woman of far too much experience languishing as a paralegal when everyone knew she was capable of far more. Those very same people were also receivers of the paralegal’s advice from time to time and the little birdies had passed that on to Jo.

“It’s good to see your Ms Miller, please come in.” She gestured at one of the free leather seats and takes her place behind her own desk. There’s something in her blue eyes that was intense, a hunting, restless curiosity. It was quite the thing to be faced with Jo in such a private quiet setting and normally it wasn’t a good sign.

The senator didn’t leave Laurel hanging too long. “I’m not one for pleasantries, Ms. Miller, so I’m going to quickly get to my point. It is the responsibility of Senate to hold the presidency to the account and further than that, the federal bodies that he or she is responsible for, as I’m sure you agree.”

“Your office is charged with advising the senate with unbiased advice, and so I’m asking for it. I want to know something very simple. Is there legal grounds to investigate the president, his administration and his federal bodies and their handling of President Wright’s death?”

[jokorbel]

joedamatojr‌:

Joe waves his fingers as the man is thrown out of the office and thinks: at least it’s not me. 

Many would cower in fear after disobeying the Jo Korbel but, despite himself, it’s his ironclad hubris that carries him all the way to her office with his head held high. 

“Like that’s new,” Joe replies, pushing himself off the wall. He reaches down and picks up a piece of glass. “You should send this back to him,” Joe grins, gently playing with the glass with his fingers as he takes one large step over the mess to approach Jo. “‘Down the road not across the street. Regards, Jo. Kiss kiss.’ Y’know, do him a favour.”

Joe fucking d'Amato. It was rare to get Jo actually angry, you have to care about said person to extinguish the effort to be angry at them, but Joe got her close. The irony that they shared a name wasn't lost on her either. The thankless fucker was closing in as the number one irritation of the Senate, which considering there was still a sizable number of Democrats was quite a feat. There's nothing she despised more than a limp-wristed Republican. Mostly because they were no better than pretenders, people called her a chancer but they missed the true snakes in the grass. Those who only paint themselves Republican due to demographics or family allegiance and then abandon everything their voters believe in. It was even more galling when said person went against her explicit orders as whip to not vote the damned legislature through.

So it was fair to say she hadn't invited him into her office for tea and biscuits. Her face however gave absolutely nothing away as she stepped within and listened to Joe's little joke with a smile. It was the kind of pull of the lips that contained with it absolutely no humor but instead was filled with a deep grinding sinister menace. It was the smile of a devil and Joe was walking into his new personal hell. If he thought the war was bad, Jo was going to ensure this would be worse.

"Careful now Joe, wouldn't want you cutting yourself..."

Jo took her seat without even waiting for the other Senator or gesturing for him to. She seemed so small in that big brown leather seat and yet at the same time, her presence seemed to fill out the rest, the bright sheen of perfectly permed yellow hair, the dagger glare of her eyes, the way her hands sat on the desk as if about to set out an evil plan. Perhaps she was. "Well I'm sure you understand that your recent behavior in the senate is why you are here."

"You do realize Joe, that I don't give a fuck about your family or its history, you broke the party line."                

Smash and Grab | Open

[jokorbel]

silassanford‌:

It was a term not utilized to offend or taunt, but rather the opposite. An implied familiarity. The pretense that he knew the real her. Of course, he didn’t believe that this was truly the case. The surprise announcement was proof enough of that, though he didn’t begrudge her.  He can see her smile and it pleased him that she enjoyed this elaborate charade. They both knew what this was about but it didn’t that both players couldn’t enjoy their parts in the play. An easy laugh was sparked by her words. “I’ll try not to disappoint.” The taste for these finer things had come later in life. But he had made sure to learn them. He would conduct himself like anyone who had happened to be born in an old money family. She linked arms with him, with the ease of having done so before. He’s never been inappropriate with her, at least no more daring than she has allowed. Unlike other Republicans, he had the good sense to not envelop himself in a ticking time bomb of a scandal. His greater ambitions trumped laying a hand on an intern. He led her to the dining room where the table was already set for the two of them. He pulled out her chair for her, meeting her gaze once more. “You’re going to have to let me go if you want me to get that bottle,” he teased. 

Sometimes Jo wondered what would have happened if she'd met a man like Silas in her youth or even after her previous husband died. They'd be far less struggles for sure, living the high life with a husband both equipped with wit and ambition, a /life/ in him. But she also knew the other truth, that men like Silas would not be happy to share the power. They wanted to succeed on their terms and she would never have managed to get where she had. She was no different it had to be said, she had picked herself husbands for whom political power would never be on the agenda for the exact reason that they could step out of the way. But it didn't mean she felt any less the lost of being having passion in her love life.

Instead she just enjoyed the game, giving his arm a faint squeeze as the master of house lead her into the dining room. She wasn't come a fancy home or imbued with any innate class, in fact had things gone even slightly different she had no illusions that she wouldn't have ended up just trailer trash like the rest of her family. But such lackluster upbringing makes you appreciate the finer things even more and she closed her eyes for a moment as she just relaxed into the chair and let Silas go with a earnest but prim smile. "Oh very well if you have to, can't let that wine go to waste."

As Silas slunk away, her voice echoed behind him the moment he was about to disappear from view. "It's good to see you Silas, truly."

[jokorbel]

nataliefuckingmeyer‌:

“Do you often get unannounced visitors?” Natalie asks when Jo appears, her tone matching the other’s nonchalance. She stands up at the invitation, careful to avoid the glass, and follows her through the doors that the man had just barreled through, and was subsequently drug out of. Even if Natalie could’ve stopped him, she wouldn’t have– she’s had her fair share of the same kind of encounters, from The Witness and beyond. It’s so much more satisfying to see it happen to other people.

“Or is that an ex-husband I can profile?”

"About as many times as I get faux flour flavored anthrax in the mail." Jo offered back with a wry smile. She liked Natalie, well more than that she liked the Witness, but there was nothing more key to the heart of a paper than it's editor. You see, while many would hide away from making judgements or extrapolation from bare facts, they boldly go where none would go. Of course its because they're devoid of shame and don't really consider the tenants of journalism more than tissue paper to wipe their asses on, but that was besides the point. In the end, only they and Natalie were willing to put the middle finger up to anyone and everyone. Who didn't love that?

She stepped aside and let Natalie slip in before moving to her desk and gesturing the young editor to sit as well. Once she was seated, she slipped off her heels, crossing her legs and letting out a small laugh. "Unfortunately dear, my ex-husband is five feet under and rather unremarkable. That was a CV that didn't quite match the character."

"Thank you for sparing a moment Natalie, I'm sure with the race, your paper has been quite the busy bees." She reached into her draw and pulled out a decanter of bourbon, the brown liquid glistening under the crystal container. The senator's gleaming blue eyes kept the journalist's, and she tilted her head. "Would you like some?"

"I must say, I'm feeling quite honored, I've been a long time reader of the witness."

Smash and Grab | Open

[jokorbel]

ツ (vivian + tj)

[jokorbel]

ツ + mental health

[jokorbel]

ツ + her husband

[jokorbel]

annekane‌:

The shattering of glass startled her and she glanced up from her phone, patiently sitting in the waiting room, legs crossed.  She watched the whole scene of the man being escorted out of the building.  There was enough security on the intelligence campuses to stop anyone before they got to the turn tables, but she knew the rest of D.C. could easily lose its temper.  

Anne stood when Johanna lingered by the door, giving a little wave with her phone before she put it in her purse.  “A dictionary at their fingertips and they still can’t come up with anything better to call us than bitches,” she walked over, carefully treading around the glass as she entered the other woman’s office.  Closed the door behind her.

“So, a little whisper over an earpiece told me you were running,” she grinned.  Oh this would be interesting, she was waiting for someone to really challenge Bell and Church on the Republican side.  She’s seen Korbel move up over the years since they’d worked together (or on opposing sides) in Congress.  “Congrats, Jo.”  Anne glanced around the room, trying to find a dustpan or something, finally giving up and just grabbing a few tissues.  “And, here, I can help you clean up some of this.”  The big pieces, at least, she could start chucking in the trashcan.

“Don’t give them ideas Anne, heaven forbid they actually start using those brains of theirs.” Jo offered with a wry smile, stepping back to allow her old friend back in. Maybe friends was a push, they were acquaintances with history, and it lead to a natural rapport that honestly the senator missed ever since Anne was kicked out of her Senate post. Women in congress was hard enough already to find and in truth, Jo despised people removed not because of their work or failures but their identities. She was a lover of freedom and had her own sexual freedom as well, no too far from Anne’s. She could still remember reading the polls figures a few months before the election and picking up the phone to call.

It hadn’t been public support but sometimes the thoughts shared in private meant much more. In the years since they’d crossed paths and time but now Jo had other, more professional matters to address. At the mention of her own candidacy speech, the older lady couldn’t help but let the smile grow and shaking her head. “I should have known your lot had eyes and ears everywhere...” She paused and looked Anne properly in the eye, the words passing her lips the most honest for a while. “Thank you,..”

She moved to her desk and grabbed the bin beneath, moving it over and muttering a polite thanks to the cabinet member. Once it was clear of most of the bigger chunks, she patted Anne’s shoulder. “Leave the rest to the cleaners, come, sit, really please.”

“So how are you? Don’t worry, I’m not asking for gossip..it matters to me how things are on your end.”

Smash and Grab | Open

[jokorbel]

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