joycewagner

[joycewagner]

It's funny - how many times Republican voters have lobbed that particular insult / complaint / religious warfare at their opponents. In Joyce's mind, it simply begins to lose its luster after the thirty-fifth time. The wine glass is offered as a mock microphone and she has just enough alcohol in her system to play along with it.

On the grand stage, they're enemies - they come to blows and tear each other apart. And while people tend to think of her as less than human (an amusing thing, that), she still does have a sense of humor.

"I would say, Mr. Berkeley, that conservative America is exactly where we should be, and if I am the one to usher in the new traditional aspect of its future - Then, I gladly accept that role."

She leans back with a smile, "But really - it does feel sometimes as though it's a ridiculous popularity contest." And according to the polls, Julian is winning. "These.. videos the young folk have made of us, I don't quite understand them, but it's sparked conversation." She's out of touch, true, but she does find them amusing.

"Ah," a quiet huff of a laugh. "Some cognitive function preferred, then. Does it add to the taste?"

Julian's own pick. It had been a slow and painful process, but he'd gotten it done. "I'm sure you have," he adds, sincerely. It's the way it goes; neither party nor its followers reinventing the election wheel, but rather loyally following how it's been crafted to spin.

Then, he laughs, "Of all things I've aspired to be in my career, I confess I never saw 'The Antichrist' coming." It all tracks back to one thing: her voters. "You've built quite a following." Credit where it's due. "As for my following, they see you as the reinvention of conservative America." In a comedic move, Julian holds his wine glass a little closer to her — microphone style. "Any comments?"

[joycewagner]

She's surprised to see Julian, but she supposes she shouldn't be. After all, he is the governor of this fine state. By his ambitions, he assumes that perhaps he won't be for longer. Just as she assumes she won't be Senator for longer, either. They clash in both ideology and aspiration, and yet others might say they're two sides of a similar coin.

Joyce is certainly not at all surprised he's dealt with similar issues from her side of the aisle. "Definitely not." Civility is mandatory, here. His colgate smile compared to her thin, pursed one would set them apart alone.

Her attention turns to the bottle and her eyebrows raise for a brief moment before she takes the seat offered to her. What would the papers say if they were to capture a photo right now? Surely something they could both spin for the votes.

"Close." Amused, then. "Two heads and children, not babies." Her smile slips again. "Hilariously, I've heard similar stories about your pick." She sips her wine. "The rumors my voters like to spread - As if voting for you would lead them down the path of true destruction and the death of religion itself."

On the proverb of opposites attract, the often misguided notion that it has anything to do with romance. Even affinity is out of question as Joyce and Julian keep orbiting one another, find their rival's presence even in the busiest of places.

They should keep their encounters to debates and formalities alone. But they don't.

He laughs, "So I'm not the only one?", falsely coy. As much as his supporters will stand up to her, Joyce's voters are eager to give him a piece of her mind. "Yes, it's—" Julian turns the bottle on its axis, following the writing on the label. "Japanese whiskey. A gift from a diplomat friend of mine." He motions to the seat on his right — ha —, as if to offer it for Joyce to take. "I heard your Veep has three heads, no heart, and eats babies for breakfast. Am I any close?"

[joycewagner]

"Wouldn't we all prefer to enjoy a drink at home, Chief Halliday?" She muses, bringing the glass to her lips for a sip to punctuate the question. She knows about his distaste for these sorts of places, and sometimes she might be slightly inclined to agree. Tonight is much more about taking her mind off of the upcoming week, rather than shmoozing and small talk.

That will come on the morrow.

"A pleasure to see you, as well, sir." A smile, there. If she knew how to make it soft, she would. Instead, it pulls taut and thin over her teeth. Much more pinched than amused. "I'm very used to it. Used to much more. The opposition's supporters are rather loud in their distaste, but it's no matter to me."

Hers are even louder. More.. violent, in some cases. She's used to manipulating that to her advantage when need be.

Rowan couldn’t turn down an invitation to dinner with the mayor’s wife, especially when she had invited several other important guests who were all expecting him to make an effort to show up. He’d arrived straight from work, having procrastinated as long as he could without making it look like he was purposely avoiding being there. Throughout the evening he been overdosing on menial conversation after all the professional pleasantries had been dealt with and even with his deep respect for the mayor’s wife Rowan needed to get up and find some space to breathe. So after excusing himself he crossed the room to the bar and ordered a whisky on the rocks, instructing the young bartender to take his time.

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts he didn’t notice the Senator until she spoke. He quickly composed himself, thanking the bartender for his drink before turning his attention to Joyce.

“Not as much as I would be enjoying a drink at home,” he answered honestly. Rowan knew his ineptitude at small talk around a fancy dinner table with overly expensive food and wine and lack of enthusiasm for social gatherings in general wasn’t a secret hidden from anyone in NYC and he was certain even Joyce knew of it.

“It’s good to see you, Senator,” he then added courteously. “Are you having a pleasant evening? Aside from the staring, of course. Both you and I should be used to that by now.”

[joycewagner]

when: the night before the RNC where: some fancy restaurant

There were a few people staring. Some making faces, but it's nothing that Joyce isn't used to. Stares and snarls follow wherever she goes but this night is a night for relaxation and preparation before the convention kicks off. Tomorrow evening, she announces her running mate. Tomorrow during the day, she watches and waits and makes nice during delegation breakfasts and lunches and..

Too much.

Tonight, she has her wine and that's all that matters. "Goodness.." She says, as she starts to stand and move away from the bar and back towards her seat - towards the nearest person without so much as a thought. "You'd expect people to watch their manners.. or their faces." Punctuated with a laugh. "Enjoying your drinks?"

[joycewagner]

Ah, his words drip with sarcasm. And she has to fight the urge to belittle him with a rudimentary explanation of how the Senate works. Instead, she just smiles. "Darling, what I do is try to gather the support of my colleagues and voters to make the necessary change in this country that is long past due. Are you asking specifically what change I support or how laws are made and voted on?"

"I can see why you're so popular with the voters." She should thank her lucky stars he's not a member of the media or some basement dwelling redditor. "I asked you what you do, Senator."

[joycewagner]

"Fairway?" How.. quaint. And hilarious, if he's asking. Her words are tinged with a hint of exasperation. "United States Senator." Her smile is reminiscent of a predator circling its prey. "Future United States President. Not terribly well-informed are you?"

He smiles, barely. "Me? I work the deli counter at the neighborhood Fairway." This week, at least. "What about you?" Question of the century - loaded, too.

[joycewagner]

"I'd agree with that assessment." To an extent. It seems they both silently agree. What's left unsaid between them could be novel length essays and dissertations. As it always is. As it always will be. Joyce knows to leave it unspoken, lest she be painted in a dirty light. Just as Abel knows he would be, too.

A fun tennis match, of sorts.

"For marriage? Oh, dear, I believe that ship has sailed." She smiles into her wine glass while she sips, maintaining eye contact. "Topher Mayes, though, if you'd like to give him a call." A man who works with her husband at Kirkland & Ellis, recently married, a bit of a playboy.

"Congratulations on your new football."

"By all means, I'm open to suggestions. I think we can both agree that respect is more meaningful than political beliefs." To a certain extent, at least. Abel does enjoy a good debate, though he isn't sure he'd be able to enjoy it at home. Still, this is a conversation far more lighthearted than they'd had for some time - a game, almost.

It's their specialty, after all.

"Sounds like a scandal." They both know he'd never touch that with a ten foot pole. "What's his name? I'd love to get some pointers from him." Weddings are good for elections, Bob had said.

[joycewagner]

She watches the man in front of her keep composure, which only seems to make her smile more - stand up a bit taller. She's not manipulating so much as adjusting to the political climate. Without knowing the thoughts in his mind, she could only infer based on what little he was giving her.

Still, though, she doesn't mind tiptoeing and reading the party line. This auction and event is not to garner sympathy, but to raise money. Once chosen by the RNC, she'll gladly slip money into hands, favors into back pockets.

Here, though, she simply smiles. "Correct. No matter how small, there is a starting line for everyone. Regardless, I look forward to seeing more of you both over the coming months. Halliday will be a wonderful conversationalist, I'm sure."

At least she can take some heat. It’s the first thought that crosses his mind. No sign of an early crumble in the Hightower so proud. No brick comes loose; not even a shake to the infrastructure. It's true then, what they say about you. And it’s as if Joyce suddenly reads from a script; words said to placate the general public.

Emilio knows what those sound like, spoken from his or Halliday’s mouths, often.

Of course he is trying to help — maybe it’s not condescendingly polite, but Emilio reads it as a careful manoeuvre. The prickle that crawls along his shoulders is shrugged off quickly, before it’s allowed to land a bite.

Ahem. “Of course.” Just agree. It’s better this way. “I look forward to hearing those ideas,” Carrasco is so close to adding: If elected. But he stops himself from being a twenty-five year old cop with a reckless mouth at the very last moment. The smile creeps up: “— everyone must start somewhere.”

They both know that. And Emilio’s polite demeanour only suggests he’s not beneath smaller changes and tweaks in an age old system. If it paves roads for the larger, more substantial changes, then he’d be the first to grab a shovel and dig. Dirty hands, in a way more physically labouring than he imagines anyone like Joyce would have; it’s a different kind of dirt that coats hers.

But he does remember the last conversation he had with Berkeley — and wonders if that smile she’s wearing suggests she has visions of it too. If birds travelled between them like gossiping parrots. Playful then — “If Halliday hasn’t already beaten me to him, I’ll be sure to do that.” He wouldn’t. Even if — by Wagner’s inference — only one of the presidential candidates has a heart.

[joycewagner]

She can read between the lines. There aren't many things they share in common - but this seems to be one of them. Family people, through and through. One of the few true things about them.

"Excited, hopeful." Her daughter has been the most vocal, surprisingly, and she knows it's weighing heavily on her. "Looking forward to conferring with you and yours, I hear. They seem to be quite keen on looking into your campaign."

It's the curse of an elder father — Julian would likely not have much time with his grandchildren, if any at all. Thus, he must make the most out of the little ones and the experiences they've yet to experience.

"Of all things, Senator," he says, "I hope being a 'perfect father' isn't just an image." And a quiet admission, that all other things might just be.

Not that it's any news to her. Presidential candidates are chameleons.

Such is politics.

"How do yours feel about your run?"

[joycewagner]

She doesn't recognize him. "I suppose that'll be for the Starkes and I to figure out, hm?" Pause. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Ford. And what is it you do?"

"So what's for dinner, Senator?" Beat. "Miles Ford, ma'am."

@joycewagner

[joycewagner]

"We're doing quite well, thank you, Archer." She notices his movements, and the way he makes sure that they're being perceived correctly. Its why she likes him on their side, and no one else's. She doesn't expect, however, the news that he breaks to her. She keeps her smile bright and wide, nods once and looks to the rest of her company. "Excuse me, I'd like to have a moment with Archer here, I'll be back shortly."

She turns towards him and motions for him to follow so they can speak somewhat more privately. Joyce also carefully positions herself and makes sure her face doesn't portray her worry. "The dinner auction ended up quite fine, don't worry. As for the protest - is it a general one, or specifically geared towards myself?" It wouldn't be the first time. Certainly not the last.

Location: The Cloisters

Who: @joycewagner

Spending a majority of the event away from Joyce Wagner had been planned. Just about everything about how Archer moved through these events was planned with a team long before the first table was set. Because that was part of the job. "Senator Wagner." He greeted politely, because she wasn't alone. She was never alone at these types of things but there were currently people in the small group that did not need to hear sensitive things. "I'm sorry it took me this long to come over and say hello. How are you and the family finding the day so far?" He gave a relaxed, pleasant smile making sure she was enough in the foreground that he didn't look like he was looming or being conspiratorial. Ever careful of the optics and comfortable in his professional skin.

As those general public people tickled off his voice dropped just a little lower, still calm and pleasant, like he was talking about the weather, "There is a small protest outside. I've got people keeping an eye on it. And I still wish you'd have let me talk you out of the dinner auction idea."

[joycewagner]

His charm is dangerous, and they both know it. There's no doubt in her mind that she'll be calling on him closer to November, ready to line pockets or steal from them.

But god - Her laugh is almost a bark of one, but she pulls back into something more fitting for the circumstance, more polite. "If there's no golfing, please do not let my husband rope you into that hellscape." She's been a total of two times and each time, she sat in the cart drinking a mimosa and waiting for the rest of the men to finish discussing their stocks.

"I hear it might be good to keep an eye on the crisis managers and the officers of the law. It doesn't hurt to have either on call."

"Thank you, Madam."

He smiles, "Yeah, I have enough back-pockets to last the whole party." If one could even call something as cancerous as this, something as riveting as that.

"Talking is half of what I do. The rest is tax evasion and golfing, if you could believe that." Beat, then — that boyish smile, and a wink, "Joking, of course. There's no golfing."

(There's. So. Much. Golfing.)

"Anyone in particular you want me to schmooze?"

[joycewagner]

She had wondered whether or not he would react poorly to her question, but he does have poise. They all have to. Instead, she finds herself laughing at the way he handles the question with a volley of his own. Curiouser and curiouser. Everyone had seen the Superbowl, after all.

"I doubt you'd enjoy any of my recommendations, and perhaps my largest one is already quite happily married to his husband." It could be any number of people, but she allows his imagination to run with that one.

"Likewise." As they always are, it would seem. Abel doesn't bother with the bright smile that is worn like a mask, instead offering something much more sardonic for a brief moment. He wonders if she finds the humor in their working relationship, and subsequent niceties... and otherwise.

His brows quirk in confusion, and that smile widens. There are two choices in this moment, read between a million lines, or lean into it. "Why? You trying to set me up?"

[joycewagner]

A man who doesn't hold emotional attachments with three children who possibly might scramble over themselves for his attention. She wonders, then, if the reason they are the way they are is because of that: so different, and yet.

Joyce nods, though, as she listens to Eva. It's a personal opinion - just as she asked - but it's still vague. Which is to be expected. After all, she's not sitting down in a conference room with the woman - they're just sharing drinks with the backdrop of an auction. "That's what I hear, too."

Her smile is tight, but amused. There's nothing about this year that says she won't have a fight ahead of her. "Interesting, though. I'll have to hear your professional opinion one of these days."

Part of the game. Eva had been familiar with the concept, for over two decades already. Long before, she graduated university, and dived head first into a career of political science. I'll make it on my own, she'd tell her father. If it wasn't his face, that she would have to confess her sins to, Eva would've changed her last name, before she even applied to Columbia. It had certainly been a thought on her mind, when she was younger. Not anymore. "Ah, of course." a mare tug at the corner of her lips, upwards. "I wouldn't have assumed that this was more than a professional alliance. My father doesn't hold any emotional attachments." As far as Eva knew, her father wasn't exactly too keen on having any friends. The closest to a friend he had, was his general counsel. It was the swift change in members of the Movska clan, that peaked her interest then. A slight arch of her brows, and a green gaze now solely locked on the Madam Senator. It seemed that the other, was focused on finding allies, no matter in which of the Movska faces. They were all influential enough, with a small exception of her brother. Not in the way, Eva would like for him to be, anyway. "I've been keeping an eye on them, from a professional view point." she replied. Eva barely had any time to seperate her professional life, from her personal, or rather — she no longer had a personal life. Of course, as much as this was true, she also would prefer to keep her opinion to herself, and offer a sort of vague response. "He's been recieved well."

[joycewagner]

"I do understand." She laughed, shaking her head. It's all pleasant, for now. "Thankfully, all Disneyland trips are very much behind me now. They have their own to take on trips now." It is odd to have a conversation with the man across from her, but she's had many a conversation with a many a man. Those who underestimate her, those who hate her - it's all just life now.

"You'll have much to look forward to with them over the years, I'm sure. Tears, laughter, frustrations." Despite her misgivings about his politics - "The perfect image of a perfect father suits you."

"Senator Wagner."

Mutual respect, even if dramatized. Even if easily whisked by the wind.

"Alas, my wife happens to love all art." More than anything, however, what Olivia loves are photo-ops. "My children, however, were very much hoping for Disneyland." Between four and six, Lucas and Camilla enjoyed only the positives of a campaign such as this one. "I'm sure you've once experienced the same, when yours were only a single-digit old."

[joycewagner]

"As do you, dear boy. Very handsome this afternoon." Joyce's smile is ever-polite. While he's the very picture of what the Republican party might value - husband aside, which irks Joyce to no degree - she, is instead - the picture of what a mother or a wife should be. It's all calculated, as everything needs to be.

But then - "Oh? Well isn't that something." Her smile widens ever so slightly. "Keep that in your back pocket. Too early for.. tinkering, you see." She does so love the way her colleagues don't stretch too far from what makes DC truly DC.

"Have you talked to many people here so far, Hans? I seem to be running into all sorts of interesting individuals."

@joycewagner

As Hans walks up to Joyce, there's about ten seconds to decide which face, of all faces, he'll wear today.

Wherever his job is concerned, however, the very same lives on. The snake, the schemer, the cutthroat — asset to his allies, and terror to overlapping enemies.

"Madam Senator," Hans greets her. "You look phenomenal." That All-American, boyish smile bright on display. "Still early to tell, but I already heard some of their appraisals are way inflated. A buddy of mine got an early peek."

Beat.

"I don't have a lot of Democrat clients, but the few I have— I can make something work.”

If you catch his rather obvious drift.

[joycewagner]

She knows what to expect when approaching an officer of the law - especially a higher-ranking one, so Joyce steels herself appropriately and waits, sipping her wine as he continues to speak. It's all information that she's heard before, but the way he says it - a challenge, maybe? Perhaps, simply speaking his mind. She doesn't take offense to the way his voice forms around the words a bit harsher than most. Politics are a passionate subject even in the smallest of circles. It's only fair that they're passionate when it comes to livelihood.

Funding, however, is her entire platform. Without correct cuts and allocations, the city will fall into ruin. It has fallen, if rumors and papers are to be believed. Criminals roaming the streets, attacks, protests, suspicious deaths. She sips once more at her glass.

"It's not a bore, Deputy. After all, I did start the conversation, did I not?" She's not here to argue with the man, either. Already, though, she's thinking of prospects to decrease funding to certain departments - libraries aren't exactly thriving these days, are they? And the NYPD has more than enough to allocate into both control and allocating resources properly. A little more to help them with these basic living needs, couldn't hurt. "But I understand your plight. You wish to help, just like the best of us. There's only so much you can do within confines of the law and ahem, monetary support."

She nods, just once. "It's something for me to keep in mind, but - State politics, once I'm elected, will ultimately be up to the state itself." Small federal government, after all. "I have plenty of ideas for the country as a whole, in terms of these flaws. Laws and such that could help endanger your officers less, actually help the people of the city."

She can't help the shark-like smile that slides over her features. "Our lovely governor and mayor should listen to you and take what you say to heart."

All smiles and professionalisms fall into place when Emilio's gaze snaps to Joyce — it's as though he's spotted a mark. Only this one, he knows to try keep on the good side of. A presidential candidate up his ass, is the last thing he needs. Emilio's heard plenty rumours about Wagner.

She and Julian really were the rival King and Queen of the political kingdoms.

Emilio's a loyal subject — tonight, especially.

"Mrs. Wagner," He greets. immediately feeling obligated to take the glass she's offering him. Senators could be more dangerous than a criminals, and sometimes — they were one and the same. Emilio's the rougher side of the Halliday-Carrasco ops. Good cop, bad cop — and all those cliches that mean Emilio's still got some sharpening of his public speech skills to do.

He's not sure if he can make an offhanded remark with Joyce, but he does it regardless: "The stats can be found online these days, senator." For the people, Emilio knows. But as for cracking down on it — he's not sure if she's entirely aware of the funding, operations, and shortages of officers in the current climate.

"—And I hope your husband hears all good things in those papers," Emilio dreads to think. He learned to avoid reading the articles in full, unless Halliday drops it on his desk. Which then, he does.

Sipping the drink, he swallows: "Hooliganism, whilst can be criminal, is not everything." A jest, it falls short; he knows it when he's said it. Criminals, is always the word he'll use. But that's probably politically incorrect of him. "I'd like — in the future, to redirect some attentions—" if and when we have the resources. "— to basic living needs. Officers being called out to crimes that could have easily been avoided." It's not a dig, but it is announcing that it's out of his jurisdiction. But it's within Joyce's. "It costs the city countless zeros, it wastes resources and it endangers my officers needlessly. You want the force to cut your crime rate every year, help them out with cleaning up the other flaws in the city."

It comes across sharp, and maybe it is — but, she asked.

Annoyingly — he thinks of Takeda in this moment, because toe to toe with her as of late, happened to be on cases that Emilio knows test the sometimes flawed system Emilio prides on. It isn't an excuse, it never is. But, removing those excuses entirely, that isn't impossible. Homelessness, employment, medical care... the list goes on.

"As you know," An assumption, he doesn't know if she does. "A lot of crime would be eradicated, if those with basic living needs were fulfilled. That's always where I try to start. Prioritise our team. Whilst also—" he laughs, trying to butter instead of slice: "—catching the rest of the hooligans..." Another sip and —

"I wish not to bore you with things, senator. I'm sure you have some brilliant ideas for the city, no?"