Victoria is comfortable in her seat as congresswoman, having built a solid foundation beneath her. She is literally a charismatic lioness, whispering in everyone's ear what they want to hear. The FBSA's top credo for a woman, this office provides her a direct path to the vice president's desk.

The press in Neuman's life is like rain on a sunny day. It's frustrating but tolerable. Journalists used to be disposable: today a man with a god complex, the day after tomorrow a misogynist. But lately, a young journalist has been clinging to her like a bath sheet; they've been questioning her with a twinkle in their eyes about basic information known to the public.

It was almost flattering at first, but soon the tightness of your schedule and the density of your presence around her began to weigh on her mind. Of course she would have had no trouble escorting your nosy ass away, but the ethical part of her brain was screaming for a chance to give your determination a chance. It was funny at times, walking around the congressional building like a lost puppy, absent-mindedly asking for the location of her office.

——

Her bushy eyebrows furrowed as she looked over the papers in her hands and rubbed the bridge of her nose, shifting her gaze to the stack beside her - domestic matters, invitations to banquets, advertisements, provocations.... All of it demanded her attention. Well, and of course you, at least that was the general pleasant your opinion. She lifted her head for a second, looking at the door, which slowly opened and your head showed in the opening.

A tired, sly chuckle rumbled through the room, and the wall clock droned cursedly every fifteen minutes. Lazily pointing to a chair nearby she smirked. "What today, are you going to study my high school years,hmm?" The irony slid from her lips like honey, beckoning you to sit down and keep quiet for at least half an hour.