#nothing raises my esteem faster than an ugly man insulting me

[traumatizedbymen]

me: lol I’m ugly

some nasty man: yeah

me: the fuck did you just say I’ll have you know I’m stunning☀️

[eirian-houpe]

What the Actual Fuck! - Chapter 6

Read previous chapters on AO3

Chapter 6 - A Face In the Crowd

If he’d hoped for a quiet reception, to be able to slip in unobserved and take the rest of the day to relax; prepare himself for the next day’s performance of pomp and circumstance, he was sorely disappointed. There was already a crowd around the hotel entrance, kept back by metal barriers held in place by the combined effort of sand bags and the Northumbria Police. As he might have expected, the gathered mass were clearly divided into two factions: those of his supporters, and those who looked like they wouldn’t be satisfied until they had blood - preferably his.

They seemed to have conveniently arranged themselves into two opposing positions, opposite each other, already hurling insults, but thankfully nothing else, at each other as the cars slowed in preparation for his disembarkation.

“Just like parliament,” he observed dryly.

“What?” Anna asked, frowned in confusion until he gestured out of the window at the the awaiting welcome. “Oh, right,” she said, apparently unimpressed. She seemed to make a decision then, and raised the walkie to instruct the driver of the lead vehicle, “Around the block, Aaron.”

Even as he tried to protest, the agent answered “Yes, Ma’am,” His voice tinny as it came from the little speaker.

Anna turned an apologetic look Sutherland’s way and reached out to give his forearm a little squeeze, their earlier argument apparently forgotten, or at least forgiven.

“Just to give our people time to get in place,” she assured him.

He nodded, with a sigh, and said a soft, “Fine,” before sitting back again, settling still further back against the seat as the slight acceleration took hold.

“What do you think that was all in aid of?” she asked, turning her head as they passed, as if she too was trying to catch sight of any signs, or other clues, as to the purpose of the mob. Sutherland gave a pout of his lips and a slight shake of his head.

“Who knows?” he asked, “Probably protesting the price of fish at market and placing the blame on me for all I know.”

“Oh, Come on Robert,” she said. “I know you’re tired but…”

“But what?” he asked in a monotone. He didn’t even have the energy to snark at her. “They want the university to reopen, they don’t want the university to reopen, they don’t want the partnership? Or seriously, the price of fish…”

Anna sighed.  “What do you want, Robert?” she asked.

“A hot meal, a hotter shower, a warm bed…”

“For the university.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Anna. The country needs to recover from what happened, and this is one of the last things left. I fought parliament to get it done now, because I thought it would help to create stimulus in the area. I fought  the opposition to create ties with Brussels, in spite of Brexit, because I thought they should have something to further increase their importance to the country. I didn’t necessarily want all of that, not yet anyway. I think it’s still too soon, and most people still blame me for what happened there, but the city bitched about me not doing enough for them and so…” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Anna shook her head. “I know what you did, not how you feel about it.”

“Maybe I think they’re right,” he murmured.

“Fuck that, Robert!” she all but shouted at him, “You handled everything the best you could - the best anyone could.”

“That's the problem,” he said, fixing her with a uncompromising stare. “It wasn’t enough.”

**

The bus had to take and alternate route to the hotel, and ironically it turned out to be the faster way than the Prime Minister’s secure transportation route. As such, it afforded Belle time to alight, and head through the hotel - the bus having pulled up out back - with the rest of the security detail who were the ‘advance guard.’

She could hear the crowd of people even before she got all the way through the lobby. Some were hurling insults at the others, or else at Sutherland in absentia. It seemed the people of Northumbria held grudges and still blamed the PM for everything that had happened. It was ugly, and she didn’t like it one bit.

She was more than a little relieved to see the three black vehicles, that had slowed as if to stop, pick up speed again. She wanted to get outside and take in the lie of the land beyond the demonstration at the hotel’s front doors.

Retracing her steps, she slipped out of the back door and came around the building and began walking along as though she were a simple pedestrian going about her business. She was certainly going about her business, though it wasn’t simple. She tried to take in the faces of every protester at the barricades - some recognizable feature that would allow her to be on better guard. Through experience she knew better than to focus merely on those who were anti-Sutherland, spending a good deal of time as she walked taking in the faces of those on his supporters side as well.

Her eyes were drawn to the middle of the pack where one man stood, too still; too quiet. It sent a chill through her, warning bells that clamored for her attention. She took him in, making a mental note of his features. Later, when she had her computer open, she’d run everything she could through the organization’s database, just to see if she would get a hit, or reassure herself that she was being paranoid.

Out of time, she saw the Prime Minister’s entourage coming around again, this time the cars slowed and stopped. The security detail came immediately to the middle car, ready to escort Sutherland inside. She increased her pace to put herself among them, shaking her head when one of them protested.

“You should be inside, Ma’am,” he said.

“And that’s precisely where I’m going,” she answered with a smile. “Just as soon as the Prime Minister does.” She watched him draw breath ready to protest, and continued, “What kind of a steward would I be if I weren’t there to see to his needs?”

He shook his head and sighed. “It’s your head,” he told her.

“Yes, it is,” she agreed.

There was no more time for argument, as Sutherland slipped from the car, and turned to reach inside and help Marshall out. If the crowd had been loud before, as they sighted their prey, the noise became almost deafening. As she suspected, the security officers from both of the cars came to flank the Prime Minister, but not before he had seen her, and offered her a bright smile.

She felt herself caught by the arm and pulled closer, right into his side, and as they began to move toward the hotel doors he leaned closer still.

“You didn’t have to come out here.” His breath was hot against her neck, behind her ear as he spoke the words into the sensitive shell of it.  She fought not to shiver, but her body had a mind of its own, and she felt every part of her respond to it - to him. “I’m glad you did,” he went on, and she turned her head up to him with a curious frown on her face. “Wanted to make sure you had a key.”

She couldn’t hear the words, but she could see them, the shape of his lips as he made them, the way his tongue darted out after he finished, to lift a bead of moisture back into his mouth. She shivered again, her mind rapidly going south, and berated herself for it.

The noise of the protesters became muted as the doors closed behind them, insulating the lobby from the worst of it. Sutherland released Belle’s arm, and the security detail gave them more space, the small party coming to a halt as the hotel manager came out from behind the service desk to greet his esteemed guest.

“Welcome to the Hotel deWint,” he said, offering a hand which Sutherland took and shook warmly.

“A pleasure, thank you,” he said, then added, “I apologize for the disturbance outside.”

“Hardly your fault, Prime Minister,” the manager said, finally taking back his hand. “I think you’ll find your rooms are all in order, and if I, or any of my staff, can provide you with anything, just let us know.”

“I will, thank you.” Sutherland assured him. “Right now, I’d just like to get settled. It’s… been a long day.”

“Of course.” The manager nodded, and signaled to one of his staff members, who came forward with several small envelopes containing room keys. Most of them she gave to Marshall, but the envelope marked for the Prime Minister, she gave directly to Sutherland, who nodded his thanks.

“Excuse me,” he added for good measure. “Miss Marshall will take care of the remaining details.”

Belle watched as Marshall spluttered a little, but soon composed herself, and began organizing room keys and the transportation of baggage up to the appropriate places whilst, at his behest, Belle followed the Prime Minister to the elevators.