#ˏˋ♥̩͙♥̩̩̥͙♥̩̥̩ ⑅ consulting + (julian)

[throughherworld]

Isadora hears Julian out without interrupting him, the comment on what she sees for her career going forward certainly intrigued her. She made it to be obvious that she appeared to be just another hard-working journalist trying to prove herself but in reality, it was much more grimy than that.

Isadora dramatically takes in a breath as she tilts her head back for a moment.

"How can I not turn this opportunity down and ensure I'm not being used for my brilliant journalism skills?" She asks herself out-loud.

Her lips crack into a smile, "just pulling your leg. But um- if you believe open communication is key, we shouldn't have a problem in this budding partnership, correct? Because you wouldn't do me dirty in this partnership, would you Mr. Berkeley?"

"I believe my campaign stands on its own, Miss Flores," Julian smiles, "as will my government. No 'crafting' should be necessary."

Alas, the whys and hows are as personal as they are complex.

"...It would depend on what you see for your career going forward," he says, walking slowly and further into her office; memorizing its layout and decorations. "If you see yourself diving deeper into the world of politics, and reporting on it — then it's the only path to have free access to the White House. And to me."

He pauses, then meets her eye. "While I'm glad to give interviews to whomever is qualified today, and that certainly includes you — once I'm sworn in, that privilege will be limited to only a few names in the media. Not by my choice. It's simply the way it works."

"As I said, I believe open communication is key. And this," — a motion to the room they're standing in — "is my way of starting it."

[throughherworld]

Free press... Isadora's lips slowly turn upwards, "and what, are you saying you want to lock me in as... the woman crafting the continuation of your campaign-- slash, desired visible government to the public eye?" she questions. "You came here in person to do what, exactly, sir? I think you knew you wouldn't have that much of a problem with me taking this on, sir. But is that all you wanted to go over? I guess I wanna know, what exactly are you wanting out of me with this, because surely you could have went to any other journalist, but you came to me though. Thank you, by the way" she smiles once more.

"But forgive me for my straightforwardness, but I'd like to know why I should take this on, and what it exactly is it that I am taking on."

"I do know," he confirms with a smile. That same Colgate one that had won him the election. "It's a pleasure to properly meet you regardless."

Beat, as he laughs.

"I'm afraid gone are the days when I can buy drinks without each order getting looked into." Beat, followed by laughter. "If we have time to kill, we can certainly blame all the men that came before me — and extrapolated their privileges beyond fairness."

Long story short—

"The White House Correspondents will be locked in soon, and I heard your name was a potential into the mix. Whether that's true or not, I built my campaign on the basis of free press — and I still stand by it. I believe a conversation free of obstacles is key, in the government I want to build."

[throughherworld]

At the sudden in the flesh arrival of the man, Isadora is taken back, she quickly gets out of her chair and stands before him but keeps a small distance, "Mr. Julian Berkeley?" she watches him for a moment. "how, why?" she snorts out.

"don't actually answer that, and don't even mind me acting like a fangirl, I'm just a little taken back, I can't even lie," Isadora then takes her smooth hand into his and shakes it, " but yes, Isadora Flores, as you know."

"But, my work place? You couldn't have just bought me a drink first or something?" she jokes.

President-Elect. Ever since that title was bestowed upon him, schedudles changed.

So much so, that as the line on his phone connects to the New York Times, he's walking into the office whose phone number had just been connected to his.

"I hope I'm not intruding," he speak into his cellphone, "Ms. Flores. Alas, my team insisted we met in person."

Once their eyes meet, he hangs up, and offers a hand. "It's great to finally meet you."