In The Public Eye [Erin]

[jacobi]

The world isn't always what we expect it to be. In theory, perhaps, it is just that: the mundane, the simple, the expected. In practice, it is another matter entirely. In theory, this part should be easy, enjoyable even. In practice, it is not.

“President Harris, how long do you think Isshu can remain neutral? Rumor has it that the republic currently stands on shaky ground, can you shed some light on the current situation? President Harris, do you have anything to say regarding your alleged affair with Lauren Danvers? President Harris, how do you plan to respond to recent trade cut-offs with Hoenn Nox? President Harris, is it true that you were seen leaving the vice president's apartment last night? Was it love at first sight? How will this development effect inter-office politics? President Harris, what can you tell us about the new Minister of Education? President Harris. President Harris. President Harris.”

He should have expected this, the short walk from car to door made long by the line of reporters looking to delve into his mind, or take him down a peg, or over-glorify him. In the end, it all amounts to the same thing: yet another minor annoyance in the daily chain of them.

He has no privacy now. They buzz about him like flies over a fresh kill left out beneath the hot afternoon sun, looking to pick at him until every last piece has been exposed, until there is nothing left to hide. The first time he encountered them, it had been a game: smile, wave, answer questions, make them believe in the impossible, if only for a moment – become the man from the debates, hide in plain sight, play the game. Now, it grows tedious. For near on a week straight they've been camped outside his door every morning, looking for the latest scoop, starved for even the smallest bit of attention. He's beginning to loathe them. Quietly, of course, never for the cameras to see. He still greets them with a smile as he makes his way up the steps to the new capitol building, stops to answer a question or two as he passes, but the act is now more chore than passing amusement, and the grip on his coffee cup tightens until the thin cardboard begins to buckle beneath his fingertips. It doesn't slacken, even when the droning hum of voices are behind him, silenced by the front door. He's wound tighter than a spring until he reaches the sanctuary of his office and seats himself behind his large ornate desk. Then, and only then, does he allow himself a moment to relax, a moment to breathe.

The coffee cup is set aside then - abandoned, but not forgotten. He will need it shortly, when the meetings begin and the day grows long. The Minister of Finance would like a word with him, that's Nerva polite for 'I have an idea and I would rather not have to threaten you to get your attention,' the newly appointed Minister of Education is scheduled to arrive at eleven, and the vultures need to be kept at bay. Thankfully, he panders well, always has...but no amount of aptitude can entirely disguise the slump of his shoulders, the weight of an infant republic pressing down upon them, growing heavier with each passing day.

[Erin]

When Jacobi entered his office, he would surely be surprised to find Erin was already there. The girl was in a state of extreme multitasking, helping to tidy his quarters up while simultaneously reading a newspaper. Judging by the smile on her face and the occasional contend nod she was very happy with what she saw. "High public approval rates, economy on an upswing . . . seems like we're doing a great job so far!" she chirped. She hummed quietly to herself as she put down the newspaper, instead reading through a few political plans they discussed at their last presidential meeting. For a while, she didn't even notice Jacobi had entered.

Then she heard him set down his coffee and slump down into his chair, turning around at the slightest bit of noise. Being Vice President for a year was already enough of a reason for her to hone her peripheral senses . . . after all, what if something bad happened and she wasn't around to notice? For both her safety and Jacobi's, having a solid grasp on her senses was essential. "Oh, hello, sir! Didn't see you there," she responded, flashing her usual winning smile at him. "Was just tidying up a bit while you were gone."

She put down the notes she was reading and walked over to him, a look of concern on her face as she approached his desk. "Long day?" she asked, worriedly glancing had his slumped shoulders. Running the Republic for a year had already brought so much stress on him, and truth be told seeing him deteriorate and crumple was quite painful for Erin. However, she knew she couldn't say anything. This was his goal. His dream. His vision. As his Vice President and friend, she would follow him into the fire and help him with that dream no matter the cost.

[jacobi]

They're a kind of symmetry - yin and yang, and perhaps that's why he doesn't notice her at first. Or perhaps he does and simply ignores her until she takes note of him. It isn't often that Jacobi deigns to let his guard down in front of her, but nor is it unheard of. Erin, of all people, must see him as a man, a man with grand ideas and a knack for making them happen, but a man nonetheless, all slumped shoulders and world weight. A leader must never appear eager to take on the tasks of leadership. And, perhaps, if he tells himself that this is little more than a ploy to earn her sympathy as well as her trust, it will became just that, and he will find something to love in the grand game once more. He's found some clever way to lie to everyone else, why not find one for himself?

It'd be simple enough: wait for the right moment, allow Erin to comfort or encourage, shake the weight off, and appear to be rejuvenated...play the game and play it well. He's done it before, but never quite like this, because this time, the exhaustion is real, and the weight refuses to lift and, in the end, he's never been able to lie to himself the way he lies to the others, the way he lies to her...

High approval ratings, the economy thriving, progress a reality - Erin focuses on the positive as always. She does not mention the recent issues with Hoenn Nox or the upcoming meeting with Lux's president. She does not mention the tenuous nature of their hold on peace. How could she? He's kept it well hiden, and what he could not hide from view, he has brushed aside with callousness and confidence, as though continued peace were a guarantee, a promise that he, and he alone, is qualified to make, a promise that comes with a price.

Her smile fades when she looks at him, truly looks at him. He does not look like a conquering hero, an unflappable harbinger of peace - he looks every bit the man world weary and down on his luck, but when he meets her gaze, he straightens and offers her a tired smile, no less warm for all its weariness.

Long day? "The beginning of one." His smile turns wry for a moment, as though there's humor to be found in the stacks of papers and slew of meetings to be had, or in his own weariness in the face of it all. Perhaps, from where he sits, there is.

"Have the vultures been troubling you?" In private, he calls them what they are: not reporters, but vultures, forever circling, desperate for pieces of their lives.

[Erin]

Erin returned Jacobi's wry smile, knowing fully well what it meant. Fatigue. Weariness. More worries to toss onto the ever-increasing pile. However, confidence. Boldness, sometimes even to the point of foolishness. Oftentimes it seemed Jacobi figured himself a one-man army, capable of handling any problems with a simple wave and smile. There were days when Erin saw his weak spots, and days when he seemed a titan impervious to all harm. Of course, all those invincible moments did was make her worry more and more about the inevitable crumble.

She looked at the clock as Jacobi mentioned how early it was, cringing a little. Yeesh, he was far too right! To think the day had already been so long and was just beginning . . . it made Erin yearn for the lazy summers of her youth, where the days seemed to pass all too quickly. She wondered how her president had spent the day, what he had focused on. Nine times out of ten it was the negative: concerns, comments, outrageous rumors pushed forth by the ever-watching eyes of the press. It was insane pressure, and made Erin wonder how Jacobi could even willingly subject himself to it all. She was much happier with her job. A speech here, a meeting there, doing whatever she could to help her president. Her friend. It was simple, and rarely required her to leave much. Of course, when she did, the swarms were notoriously overbearing.

"The press? No, I haven't been outside much today. Been too busy here." Part of it was because she didn't have to leave. The Vice President was far less of a public position, or really a noteworthy one. She was a springboard for ideas, a confidant, and a potential heir, to either achieve her destiny or be forgotten in the sands of time. She never had to travel the region like Jacobi did, or make speeches and public appearances on a near-daily basis. That's not to say she didn't, however. Supporting Jacobi, either through agreement or opposition, was her role first and foremost. If she needed to rise above and beyond the call of duty to do so, she would in a heartbeat.

"Take it you've had a bad run-in with them today?" she asked, giving him a worried look from head to toe as she awaited an answer.

[jacobi]

“They think we're sleeping together.” He doesn't bother to blunt the news. The words are meant to shock. Jacobi, however, seems unphased by the accusation, as though it is nothing more than a passing comment, often heard and easily dismissed. He wonders idly if Erin will see it that way. Watches to gauge her reaction to his words as he unwraps a butterscotch and lets it fall into his coffee. He isn't normally a fan of sweets, but today he has a feeling that he'll need the extra boost that sugar brings, even if it's bound to make the resulting crash that much worse come the end of the day. He ought to know better. He does know better, in fact.

Jacobi swirls the candy around, listening to it hit the sides of the cup. ”I think that makes it...” he set the cup down and makes a show of counting out the number of occurrences on his fingers, tapping lightly: once, twice, three times...”The third time this month.”

Erin tends to avoid the press, of keeping her nose to the grindstone and her appearances in public few and far between. This will be news to her. A wake up call. There is no privacy to be had now, not for them. Laying low will not ease the strain, won't stop them from circling about, looking for juicy tidbits at all hours, from all angles, playing at the rumor mill to see if they'll react. And Jacobi must admit, he's curious to see how Erin will react, not just to the news, but to his outright dismissal of it, of the possibility of the budding romance that the press seems to be ever so desperate for.

”I'm going to assume that late night rendezvous is code for harmless dinner at my apartment during which I, at no point...how did they put it again? Ah, right, ravished you against the counter top.” He reaches for his coffee. Brings the mug to his lips, watching her over the edge as he sips at the now too sweet liquid. Curiosity aside, this isn't the kind of game that he expected to be playing today, but it will serve as suitable distraction all the same.

[Erin]

". . . What?"

Erin's face started burning a bright red at the accusations of the press.  As someone who didn't really go out much, and cheerfully diced the tabloids out of her newspapers for use in origami (they were so worthless otherwise), she had been sheltered from all of these rumors.  Apparently it wasn't even a wild accusation, either. It was a rumor that had been stirring for a while, apparently appearing more than three times if Jacobi's "this month" was any indication.

Did the people really think that?  It was impossible!  She was much younger than him, for one thing, and was also his subordinate.  His Vice President.  That was a big job, and one that couldn't be so easily tossed away for some random fling.  It didn't matter how closely they worked together, or how many sleepless nights they spent witch each other, or how stressful the presidency could be . . .

. . . or how beautiful his eyes were . . .

. . . it just wouldn't work.  It didn't.  It couldn't.  Even if she felt her heart flutter slightly at mentions of ravaging and countertops.  Her blinking sped up for a bit, as if she was trying to fast forward past an image lingering in her brain.


"Why would they even say that? When did this start?" she asked, still trying to fathom how the public got such a ridiculous idea in their heads.

[jacobi]

"Why would they even say that? When did this start?" She sounds not frantic or outrages (though those are lurking beneath the surface as well, no doubt), but embarrassed...perhaps even genuinely curious. How had such rumors come to be? That much he leaves to her imagination, the rest he answers.

“Oh, it's been rumored for some time now,” he tells her. ” But no matter. It will die down soon enough. The vultures will loose interest, or find some other sordid imaginings to focus their attentions on.” It isn't untrue, and he doesn't need her to worry, merely to think, and she seems to be doing plenty of that if the coloring of her cheeks are any indication.

A flushed face suits her. It isn't, perhaps, the most appropriate thought for a President to be having about his Vice President, but it comes nonetheless, as such things often do, and it brings to mind another game that might be played, one that hinges not on embarrassment or admiration, but on wanting. It is something to consider, he decides, if not strictly necessary...and what a dangerous game it would be. He smiles at the thought. 


"If you'd like, I could lead them on a merry chase down a false trail. Go out for a night on the town, make a show of it, give them something else to talk about." He doesn't mean it. His reputation is far too precious for that now, but in Erin's mind, it will be the thought that counts. He fully expects her to shoot the idea down in short order, to warn him about potential risks that he's already aware of, to tell him that she can endure the rumors, that he shouldn't risk his reputation for her sake (as if he would). And so he waits for her to fulfill those expectations. To be, as ever, the perfect little pawn. 

[Erin]

Oh shit, did he actually ask? The flush in Erin's face deepened slightly, the embarrassed vice president picking up a newspaper to "read" and conceal her blush with. The problem with dealing with a man like Jacobi was that his tone was impossible to gauge: was he being sarcastic, or did he honestly want to try such a plan? For a while the girl was silent, trying to plan her next course of action.

"I-I dunno," she stammered. "You did say you needed a break, right? I mean, it'd be a lot more relaxing than just sitting in this stuffy room of yours al day. But I couldn't ask you to put your reputation on the line just to play tricks on the press. You . . .

You deserve better than that. Alone time, not being hounded by all these newscasters and gossips. I don't think this would be a good idea."

She hated to admit it, but she somewhat missed the days before the Republic's formation. Back when all of this formal planning and business was just a speck in the distance, and instead she and Jacobi were free to just have dinners and pour out their hearts about their hopes and dreams. Where late-night meetings were a pleasure, not a burden. Where the reality of power seemed so much sweeter than its true form. And yet here they were, now seeing the true price that came with their rule. Hardship, discomfort, and all sorts of outside annoyances.