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DIRK: Let’s see. “A malignant tumor on the face of democracy.”
JANE: How scathingly cliche. However, what they lack in originality they make up for in bite.
DIRK: Speaking of: “Blithe and sharklike.” Dot dot dot. “Don’t let the obtrusive lipstick distract you, no pig is well-primped enough to lead a country.”
JANE: Really, a pig and a shark? Well, that’s not something you see every day! I must go for a pretty penny at the county fair.
JANE: What a crude comparison — to be published in an acclaimed journal, no less! Unlike our esteemed author, I haven’t ever slogged my way to a C in a gen-ed English class, but I imagine it’s still a wordsmithing faux pas to mix metaphors with such inexpertise.
JANE: It’s still a faux pas, isn’t it, Dirk?
DIRK: Yes’m. Takes a well-cultivated dexterity with the spoken word to bridge that gap.
DIRK: Alongside the development of limbs, the rapid enlargement of the testes would be an invaluable evolutionary measure one such vertebrae would have to undergo to do any worthwhile reporting.
DIRK: Though, you can’t knock the Alternians for the bumps in their evolution.
JANE: Too right. Gone are the gonads.
DIRK: To say the least. These chucklefucks couldn’t bang out an opinion piece on their favorite color without trying desperately to decipher which shade is on the right side of history.
JANE: Well, we know it’s not red. Too darn human-centric.
DIRK: Ah. “The advent of human supremacy has spawned a newer, hipper mouthpiece.”
JANE: Goodness gravy!
DIRK: Goodness gravy is right. I dunno if I’d phrase it so severely, but the sentiment remains.
DIRK: Y’know, back in your day, journalists were blown up for less.
JANE: Sigh. No kidding.
JANE: What my benefactor lacked in remorse, she sure made up for in effectiveness.
JANE: That’s sick to say, isn’t it?
DIRK: Not something I’d stick on a campaign poster.
JANE: Bluh. It’s not like it’s a good thing. If anything, it's a slap in the face — complete with well-manicured, glittery talons! My life would be a whole hell of a lot easier if I forwent bubble gum entirely and went straight to kicking butt. I mean, who knew ruthlessness was the strategy of the lackadaisical?
JANE: Lord knows what she’d be capable of if she managed to terrestrialize.
JANE: Can you imagine living under a tyrant who bothered to put in some effort?
DIRK: I don’t have to imagine.
Dirk pockets his phone, and so ceases all readings of inflammatory smear pieces, to haul open your office door.
JANE: You’re funny, Dirk. Have I ever mentioned how really, very funny you are?
DIRK: Happy to hear it, Madame President.
In place of an eye roll, what with your back to Strider, you make a huffy noise of indignation. It gets the idea across well enough. Roxy is already lounging across one of your two parallel couches, draped so heavily in ivory that, if not for her complexion, she’d blend right into the upholstery. She’s stabbing furiously at her phone, which can mean one of a few things: you’re being impeached, Dirk’s being impeached, or Jake has awarded himself yet another feather in his cap of social gaffes.
While en route to your desk — the Irresolute Desk, as playfully dubbed by your pals — you pause across from her and wait for the inevitable bomb drop. She does not seem interested in breaking her concentration on tippy-tapping.
DIRK: What’d he do?
ROXY: carpet bombed thrombali orphans
ROXY: tongue kissed madonna
ROXY: came out as a cannibal
You glance at Dirk, who has parked himself at the edge of the sofa. He shrugs back at you. Even when the two of them aren’t separated, it’s rare that Dirk ever knows more about Jake’s antics than you or Roxy — especially Roxy.
JANE: How bad is it?
ROXY: bad
JANE: Obviously. You know what they say: “Brevity is the soul of wit — unless you’re a Lalonde. Then, it merits institutionalization.”
ROXY: ha
DIRK: Shall I call Promises Mali-two? I can get you the executive suite. Got a real nice rapport going with that receptionist after Jake’s stint, or two, or seven.
ROXY: ha ha
JANE: Hm.
JANE: Rox, can you place this blunder of his on a numerical scale?
ROXY: on a scale from kitty-cats to nuclear holocaust i would probably rate this at normal holocaust
Another look is shared. This time, you shrug.
DIRK: Maybe he did carpet bomb Thrombali orphans.
JANE: Well, whatever it is, can you go chit-chat with crisis management so that Di-Stri and I can have ourselves a little brain power hour? I’m popping in at some fundraiser tonight, and I’ve got to perfect the art of spinning plates so I’m not ambushed with questions about the Federal Reserve Transparency bill. I am trying to avoid getting stuck with porcelain splinters.
JANE: What’s more, I’m hoping to accidentally on purpose bump elbows with a campaign sympathizer, a Takcha Getger, who has been such a stellar role model to a particular disenfranchised demographic of this country…
DIRK: Female trolls aged nine to seventeen.
JANE: …who are three times more likely to vote than their male counterparts!
ROXY: oh whoah time out
Roxy blinks up from her Twitter feed. Mirabile dictu!
ROXY: shes a troll?
JANE: Um. Yes?
JANE: You don’t know who Takcha Getger is?
ROXY: trick question?
JANE: She’s the mayoral representative of New Alternia.
ROXY: mmm…
JANE: “To-Getger or Not At All?”
JANE: No bells? Seriously?
JANE: I don’t know how you don’t know this. You’re my CRO. Surely, you should be balancing my relations as well as you do Jake’s. Is it just less entertaining to memorize the names of my political peers than it is to note the length, girth, and proficiency of each of his flings?
You hold up your palm to Dirk.
JANE: Sorry.
DIRK: S’cool.
ROXY: so…
JANE: Yes, of course, she’s a troll! For heaven’s sake, she represents New Alternia!
JANE: Besides, have you ever met a human woman named Takcha Getger?
ROXY: ok fine its on me for not being the political aficionado i wouldve totally lied about being on my nonexistent resume had i not scaled this ladder expeditiously due to nepotism
ROXY: but janey trust me for future reference
ROXY: it gets complicated these days
ROXY: its way in vogue to name your little bundle of flesh some mishmash of syllables and send that little shit on their merry way so they can struggle super hard to get a job interview twenty years down the line without friends in high places to plop em into place
ROXY: meanwhile you got presumptive red blooded american john smith over here who turns out to be an american of any variety of blood colors who has played the system by knocking a couple letters off his name
ROXY: affirmative mothafuckin action
DIRK: That’s not affirmative action.
ROXY: well youd know everything about it wouldnt you dirk
JANE: Not nice!
JANE: I’ll have you know I hired him because he’s pretty.
Roxy snorts. With the mood lightened, she kicks her gaudy pink heels up onto the table.
ROXY: yeah ok im so sure
ROXY: but if thats the official story thank god cuz you might need to make space for another pretty boy on the team
ROXY: unless putting him around dirk is grounds for a workplace harassment suit
DIRK: I hate to admit it, Rox, but you might be right.
DIRK: Can't say I'd feel safe with Jake around to leer.
JANE: Good grief.
JANE: Roxy, instead of complaining, would you just go fish his rear end out of whatever hole he’s dug himself into this time?
JANE: We’ve got a lot on our plates, and they’re not even airborne yet.
JANE: Speaking of our plates, Dirk, you’ll have to remind me to have someone speak to the kitchen staff. Our new guy, the one who trained under that big-shot restaurateur down in Thrashthrust, is just…
JANE: Well, let's just say I don't know how he came so highly recommended.
JANE: I’ve been queasy all week. So if it’s not that new menu, then I might be dying.
DIRK: We can only hope.
JANE: Oh, I’m spoiled. My loyal second in command, everyone!
JANE: Now, Roxy, like I said…
You gesture vaguely toward your desk to convey that you need to work. Roxy lets out a long breath.
ROXY: what if i said this hole concerns us
ROXY: what if i said this hole of jakes threatens not only our reputations or our careers but our very sanity
DIRK: I would probably say it’s been known to have that effect on people.
JANE: If it’s so important, could you just spit it out?
ROXY: thats what he said
ROXY: but yeah
ROXY: you know how jake had his appearance on the late show yesterday
ROXY: to reveal his unofficial official hiatus
ROXY: cause jakey dont want do work no more
ROXY: even though rumble in the redacted patch is basically like the kindergarten of acting vessels
DIRK: Hold on. The two of us collectively comprised the pumpkin patch. He’s not the patch any more than I’m the pumpkin.
ROXY: upon a lengthy review i have come to understand your concerns and i deeply sympathize with them
ROXY: however allow me to offer this thoughtful rebuttal
ROXY: dont care
ROXY: didnt ask
ROXY: pumpkin orange
ROXY: patch green
ROXY: stfu
Dirks squares his shoulders. The movement is curt, subtle, and bitingly defensive in a very particular Striderian manner. Though Dirk took his official leave from his shared program with Jake to join you in the presidential run some years ago now, he’s not yet been able to eclipse his television tutelage as a politician. If you had to wager a guess, you'd say it makes him a touch insecure.
You’ve promised him a cushier cabinet position for your next term, one that’ll have him see a lot more opportunity, and have subsequently devoted a considerable amount of time buttering up potential VPs to take his place once you make good on it. Takcha Getger would be an exquisite replacement; running alongside a troll would do wonders for you. And it would finally get Dirk to stop scowling so darn much.
Case in point.
JANE: Dirk, don’t look so dour!
JANE: My word.
ROXY: like i was saying
ROXY: to keep it as succinct as possible
ROXY: the interview went awry
JANE: Awry how?
ROXY: well
ROXY: first of all i dont know why i book him for anything because he didnt announce jack shit about this “mental health break” as we decided to call it
ROXY: he just went up there and started yapping as per usual
ROXY: truth be told the whole segment has kind of devolved into a motion blur in my mind
ROXY: like grainy cctv footage of a car crash
ROXY: a bunch of grayish shapes and fuzzy figures and then a sickening squeal and crunch all coated generously in the dulcet fizzling of vhs static
ROXY: twelve car pileup
ROXY: some poor subaru outback smothered covered and capped like a fucking waffle house hashbrown
ROXY: and above it all
ROXY: descending from the heavens
ROXY: the unmistakable haunting soprano
ROXY: of jake saying a slur on live television
JANE: Oh brother.
You pinch the bridge of your nose. This news inspires the irresistible urge to pace about your office, an urge which you do the dignity of not squandering.
JANE: How?
ROXY: i dunno
ROXY: thats a lie i do know how
ROXY: he was going on about this artist he had on his show the other week and dropped a naughty word while reciting some of his lyrics
ROXY: but i dont know how he continually manages to pull stupid shit like this
JANE: I don’t either.
JANE: How many sensitivity training seminars has he sat through?
ROXY: jane im not gonna bog you down in the numbers theyre very depressing
ROXY: maybe its time we all pay some mind to that familiar old adage
ROXY: you cant teach an old dog not to be racist
JANE: Please. Jake is not racist. Sure, he's oblivious, and pig-headed, and...
ROXY: and racist
DIRK: No, Jane's right.
DIRK: He doesn't mean anything he says enough to be racist.
DIRK: Think I'd be a pretty good tell of that.
ROXY: hm
ROXY: ok you and i are gonna have a conversation about that
ROXY: right after i get done with having so many fucking conversations with jake
JANE: Ugh. I guess it’s not the end of the world. We’ll smother it.
JANE: …Like some Waffle House hashbrowns.
ROXY: haha hell yes
JANE: Dirk, I know you’re off again, but will you go out with him? Be seen with him, hold hands, just…
By the time you've paced to your desk and back, Dirk’s already pressed his phone up to his ear. It’s like he lives right inside your head. He nods at you, holding up a finger.
DIRK: Ringing.
ROXY: (i dunno what good itll do)
JANE: (What do you mean?)
JANE: (This has never not worked)
JANE: (It’s a tried and true formula.)
JANE: (Dirk does just as much PR work for Jake as you do. Maybe more!)
DIRK: Jake? Hey, what’s up?
JANE: (At the end of the day, people are very fickle about this sort of thing. I’m sure it’ll blow over quickly, and he'll be free to announce his vacation so that he may run off and recharge his creative batteries. If RDPP can even be considered a drain to them. It's not exactly Citizen Kane.)
DIRK: I’m glad to hear it. Hey, uh… I was thinking about what you said the other night, about— yeah, about that. I couldn’t get it out of my head. And I’m thinkin’ that you might be right. Maybe it’s time for us to call it.
ROXY: (yeah ok but he was being TROLL racist not racist racist)
Dirk’s voice drowns out as the heavy office doors swing shut behind him. The resolute clunk brings you back from momentary shellshock, and you blink rapidly at Roxy. Your voices both crescendo from phone call conscious whispers to your standard speaking tones.
JANE: …What?
ROXY: troll racist
ROXY: whats that word
JANE: Please elaborate.
ROXY: jane wtf is that word
JANE: Xenophobia! Speciesism!
JANE: Please elaborate!
ROXY: he said a troll slur not a human slur that is the elaboration what more do you need
ROXY: its all right there i mean yeah i buried the lede i guess but it doesnt require that much thoughtful examination
ROXY: why do you think i spazzed about your meeting with that takcha lady
ROXY: its just bad optics
JANE: …
JANE: ………
ROXY: uh
ROXY: jane
ROXY: is that your forehead vein bulging or are you just happy to see me
JANE: Oh my god.
JANE: That…
JANE: Cocksucker!
You grab hold of the first chuckable object in your vicinity — a poor, blameless harlequin doll courtesy of your father — and launch it across the room. Its head snaps clean off its body upon impact with the wall. Roxy doesn’t flinch, merely observes the decapitation with a nonchalance typical of your whole friend group, but her brow furrows in concern.
JANE: You know, for such a complete cocksucker, he sure does like to screw me!
JANE: Great. Xenophobia. Great! That is precisely the kind of behavior I want my cohort to engage in while I’m trying to schmooze some snotty, blue-blooded socialist! Would you believe I can’t even take any pleasure in that double meaning? Ugh!
JANE: That thoughtless doofus. I don’t know how he could say something so insensitive. It’s like he doesn’t think about how his actions affect people whatsoever. Doesn’t he know how much this hurts the rest of us?
JANE: And, of course, the trolls.
JANE: God. God! Some things never change!
JANE: I could vomit. Really. Christ, why did I have that quiche?
JANE: Someone in that kitchen is getting fired.
Roxy swings her legs off the table and pulls herself to her feet. She stands next to you, leaning against your desk in the newly freed space your clown doll once occupied, and slings an arm over your shoulders. You huff but deflate into her side.
ROXY: little consolation im sure but i have my people on it
ROXY: putting out the flames
ROXY: going in with the jaws of life and prying jake out of the drivers seat
ROXY: so dont catastrophize
JANE: I am not catastrophizing.
ROXY: you totally are
ROXY: so stop it
ROXY: its gonna be fine
ROXY: takcha is gonna love you
ROXY: and if she doesnt
ROXY: first of all fuck that ugly bitch
JANE: You don’t even know who she is. How would you know what she looks like?
ROXY: well is she ugly
JANE: She has a matesprit.
ROXY: but is she UGLY
JANE: Well.
JANE: She’s no looker.
ROXY: boom
ROXY: second of all never doubt me
ROXY: and third of all it doesnt matter if she loves you or not because shes gonna love your talking points and policy reform and most important of all how nicely the big meaty cock of the government sits in her mouth
JANE: That’s completely foul.
ROXY: yeah but look at you smiling
JANE: Hmmph.
ROXY: all this to say
ROXY: dont sweat it
ROXY: i mean if jake being a LITTLE xenophobic is the worst that happens then i am all in to consider this an unmitigated success
You hear the faint rapping of Roxy’s knuckles on your desk.
ROXY: just in case though
Before you can respond, the two of you drift apart from one another as Dirk comes back in. He’s still staring down at his phone as if he’s just ended the call.
DIRK: Hey.
DIRK: We’re doing lunch.
You glance over at Roxy. She offers a lopsided shrug, pressing her cheek into her shoulder. You push up from your desk into a stride across the room.
JANE: Small change of plans. Have Jake come here for your date, and don’t let him be seen.
DIRK: Huh. Really?
DIRK: He’s going to fuss.
JANE: He always fusses.
DIRK: Guess so.
DIRK: What do you wanna see him for?
You pause to pat Dirk on the shoulder as you pass.
JANE: Nothing serious.
JANE: Just call him back and tell him.
JANE: After I tear him a new asshole, you can take it for its maiden voyage.
In all the years since… well, in all the years since, Jake has metamorphosed into an even bigger narcissist than how you found him. Celebrity does that to people, you suppose, though it’s much too late to curse yourself for ever giving him the platform to curry favor with the world at large. Better he inflict himself on doting fans than on you. At least not any more than he already does.
The only reason you’ve managed to resign yourself to wrangling him for so long is that his massively influential status comes with more than a few upsides. Jake’s fanbase is nothing if not faithful. To them, an endorsement of you coming from him is as good as a crack of the whip. Detractors might wonder — and have wondered — if it’s ever occurred to you to be unsettled by this frenzied onslaught of support given that Jake is exploiting it out of his impressionable audience.
Yes. It has occurred to you. Is there a follow-up question?
JAKE: I am very very sorry.
JAKE: I understand how my actions have caused strife to marginalized communities and it is my honest wish that i can move past this hiccup as both a kinder and far more learned man.
JAKE: And to my fans who were disappointed in my behavior i implore you all to reach down betwixt your legs and squeeze what remains of your bollocks to make sure theyve not been snipped in your sleep.
ROXY: ugh jake
JAKE: Ugh yourself!
JAKE: I am bored to TEARS of this self flagellant bullcrap!
JAKE: Cant i just say what i really think for once? Would that be so objectionable?
JANE: It would be more than objectionable.
JANE: That there’s a lovely script, Jake. Can you just read the damn words?
JAKE: Or what?
JAKE: Youll have me hung me up in the hoosegow? Beggars belief!
JAKE: Do all of you think this mollycoddled amalgamation of simpering and sniveling behooves me? That i ought to stuff it and instead have out with a stream of buzzword bile? Panhandling for my pittance out of mealy mouthed politicos?
JAKE: Forget it! Ive had just about enough of all this limp wristed hand wringing.
ROXY: jake if you just say it and sound like you sorta mean it you can go right back to limp wristed everything else
JAKE: Limp wristed NOTHING more like.
JAKE: Dirk!
Dirk hardly stirs. He doesn’t even look up from his phone.
DIRK: Jake is very butch.
DIRK: Rigid wrists. Good, strong wrists.
Jake gives Dirk an insurmountably bitchy look. Apparently, that was the wrong response. Or maybe it was his disaffected tone that was wrong. Or maybe the curtness. Or maybe there was no winning that one whatsoever. Unlike his clairvoyance where you're concerned, Dirk is incapable of reading Jake’s mind, and this disparity has caused an untold number of their breakups. Jake, merciful as ever, gives him a do-over. And some explicit direction.
JAKE: Can you PLEASE tell your ladyfriends to take a pill apiece? And then several more for good measure?
DIRK: So they’re only my lady friends when they’re misbehaving?
JAKE: Yes! Obviously!
JAKE: As i cannot say id consider such a scrupulous shitstorm as this to be the work of my FRIENDS!
JAKE: *Sniff.*
JAKE: What a world we live in when my nearest and dearest common law chum cant even be the least bit arsed to take up a measly cudgel for me.
JAKE: And to think i was reappraising the expiry of our entanglement.
DIRK: So we are broken up.
JAKE: Would you please have some grace ive far too much on my mind to harbor such conceited queries alongside it all.
DIRK: Excuse me for daring to wonder.
Jake huffs, incredulous, as if Dirk is being purposefully obtuse.
JAKE: Dirk would you stop it with all the lachrymoseying about i cant stand to deal with it.
JAKE: We will talk it over tonight but for now youve got to stop with the sulking its making for quite the unwelcome harshing of my mellow.
DIRK: Fine.
Disguised beneath the awkwardness of watching your friends get into a lover’s spat, you can detect a strange, shared smugness radiating off the two of them. Like they’re both in on some hilarious joke that nobody else is.
You and Roxy have devoted much girl talk to Dirk and Jake’s relationship, naturally, and she maintains that all of their make-ups and break-ups and knock-outs are a form of drummed-up foreplay. Like fuzzy handcuffs and sexy schoolgirl uniforms — it’s total make-believe, nothing but a committed roleplay. You, however, aren’t so sure. When it comes to their arguments, their feelings and frustrations never strike you as particularly phony, it’s only the act of arguing that does. As if someone, somewhere, is watching them get into their little tiffs with much amusement, and both of them are hamming it up for the benefit of their fourth-dimension voyeur.
Maybe being television personalities has well and truly done them in. Or maybe they were done in from the start. You can’t say. But what you can say is that, despite your years of watching them circle this very drain, you can’t quite work out what being "broken up" even means to them anymore. They date in perpetuity. Their separations are as dependent on the other as their couplings. It’d be romantic if it was anyone else.
ROXY: look if the two of you are done getting cold feet on your divorce proceedings can we get back at the matter at hand here
ROXY: yknow namely jake trending on twitter for maybe the second worst reason he can be
DIRK: Yeah, my bad.
JANE: What’s the first worst? Death?
ROXY: no that would make for good enough publicity
ROXY: say nothing but good of the dead yknow
ROXY: i was thinking more like sex crimes
JANE: Oh, true.
JAKE: This is an utter farce.
JAKE: This was not some unprovoked intolerance. I was merely recounting the company of my latest guest star and happened to echo some OSTENSIVELY evocative language of his. Thats all!
JAKE: I did nothing but croon the bloody compliments of the bloke. I was ballyhooing myself blue in the face to speak well of him! Yet here we are with my cock on the chopping block.
JAKE: You know in a myriad of manners my comment could actually be taken as flattery. Ive deigned to espouse their lingo as a token of my fascination with their very way of life! To the neoteric minded its rather a show of respect. Were breaking bread!
JAKE: Er. Grubloaf! Breaking grubloaf!
JANE: (That’s not right. Right?)
DIRK: (Don’t think so.)
JAKE: Really ive always felt such a profound kinship with their kind.
Roxy groans into her hands. You brace yourself on the back of your couch, your nails digging into the plush fabric. If Jake cares about the contempt for him permeating the atmosphere, if he even notices it at all, it’s not readily apparent.
ROXY: great
ROXY: his brain has not just atrophied it has everted
ROXY: white matter on the outside and gray matter on the inside
ROXY: hes a fucking alien wigger
ROXY: calling it now this is dirks fault somehow
DIRK: Business as usual.
ROXY: fuck off
ROXY: you so do not get to be self deprecating right now
JAKE: Snrrk.
JAKE: Quite like relieving an angel of its wings.
ROXY: jake you fuck off too your position at the tippy top of my shit list means you are not at liberty to quip
ROXY: that was pretty good though
JAKE: Much obliged!
Jake and Roxy lean in to share a lazy fist bump. Given they’re both situated on opposite sofas, and their wingspans aren’t anywhere near long enough to bridge the gap, their outstretched fists don’t complete this bump as much as they suggest the idea that, if possible, they would be bumping.
You let out a breath through your nose. Dirk gives you what might be a sympathetic look or a sudden scrutiny of a heretofore overlooked freckle at the corner of your eye.
DIRK: Do we have to address this now?
DIRK: Lampshade that shit. Let it dry itself out.
DIRK: “Jake understands the harm his words have caused, and is taking time to reflect and educate himself.”
JAKE: (Yawn.)
DIRK: It’ll simmer down before anyone quizzes him on that supposed reeducation.
ROXY: idk impending hiatus or not its unlikely it fades into obscurity
ROXY: jake will be always be taking up considerable clickbait real estate
ROXY: we shouldnt expect anyone to drop a story about him in favor of something else unless some beloved celebrity dies
JANE: Why are you looking at me like we can make that happen? Have you ever known me to personally have someone whacked?
ROXY: first time for everything
JANE: Groan!
JANE: It's a decent thought, Dirk, but I don’t see any realistic way of moving forward without tackling it head-on.
JANE: How cowardly and conspicuous would it be to kick this transgression under the rug? Doing so would be a microcosm of what the whole darn world thinks our administration is guilty of! Takcha, if she possesses a crumb of competency, would be silly not to call me on it.
JANE: “Jane, pray tell, why does the company you keep happen to be bursting at the seams with unrepentant bigotry?”
JANE: I want her support, but I refuse to waltz in and be at her mercy. If I’m not playing on the offensive, I’ve already lost.
JANE: Bluh. Is this salvageable? Should I even go?
ROXY: well now you have to go
ROXY: not showing up is as good as an admission of guilt
ROXY: it tells everyone that you feel responsible for jakes xenophobia
JAKE: Oh for frigs flipping sake.
JAKE: If IM a xenophobe then the whole world has gone stark barking mad. Name one person who fancies aliens as much as i do!!
ROXY: god its like having a toddler
ROXY: ok jake lets go over this one last time
ROXY: wanting to fuck aliens doesnt mean you cant be xenophobic
ROXY: actually for the benefit of everyone present in the room lets ALL go over this together
ROXY: wanting to fuck any minority doesnt mean you cant be bigoted towards them
JAKE: Ive never had any complaints.
JANE: That is not even close to being true.
JAKE: It is too!
JANE: Then what do you call this, Jake?
JAKE: ...
JAKE: Melodrama?
ROXY: well youd know best
JAKE: And so what if i would?
JAKE: Dirk would you tell your ladyfriends how fervidly unbigoted i am?
DIRK: I’ve been advised not to comment on this particular issue.
DIRK: As standing vice president, I have pledged a duty to uphold the dignity of marginalized peoples.
DIRK: And, according to certain unnamed parties, my opinion is undignified.
Roxy mouths Dirk’s rehearsed words as he says them. Then, she golf claps.
ROXY: wow that unnamed party really must be wise beyond their years
DIRK: That’s one way of putting it.
JAKE: Well if you ask me i am one such marginalized peoples.
JANE: Oh lord.
ROXY: in what sense are you marginalized jake
ROXY: please enlighten us
JAKE: In the sense that my freedom to express myself is being seized right out from under me by oversensitive snollygosters!
JAKE: If they dont want me saying such verboten vernacular they ought to consider not putting it in their songs!
Jake has the audacity to roll his eyes as if this entire conversation is unfathomable in its stupidity. It takes quite a bit of grit to not smack him upside the head. Roxy claps her hands together one last time, louder.
ROXY: yeah
ROXY: dirk i was right this is your fault
DIRK: No comment.
JANE: I’m completely doomed.
ROXY: hey come on
ROXY: think of it this way
ROXY: this has totally suffocated all talk of the federal reserve transparency bill
ROXY: so youve basically traded a complicated conversation for a real easy one
ROXY: “the office of the president does NOT endorse any form of bigotry and we are proud to serve our citizens of every species creed or color”
ROXY: rinse and repeat
ROXY: bing bang boom
ROXY: youve just solved speciesism
ROXY: i mean lets face it jane what controversy havent you managed to pirouette right the fuck out of with enough elbow grease and well rehearsed talking points
ROXY: just turn on that patented crocker charm and we will be home free
DIRK: Kiss ass.
Roxy throws her head back over the couch, puckering her lips and blowing a kiss up at Dirk. He swats her flying hand away.
ROXY: takes one to know one
ROXY: at least my choice of choice ass is receptive
JANE: That’s a good point.
JANE: I mean, not that. Your other point.
JANE: We should still go ahead with Jake’s apology, though, right?
ROXY: oh yeah
ROXY: like you said youll get called on it if he doesnt walk it back
JAKE: Hmph.
JAKE: If my public flogging is nonnegotiable you could at least muster up some material thats up to snuff.
JANE: Oh, boo hoo. Do us all a favor, Jake: have yourself a serious slice of humble pie and say the damn lines.
JANE: And save those puppy eyes for the camera! They’re not going to work on me.
JANE: This is your fault. I don’t want to hear any more whinging.
JAKE: Oh you havent even begun to see me whinge!
ROXY: nobody wants whinging jake we get enough of it as it is
ROXY: save it for your makeup sex tonight
DIRK: What makes you think I want his whinging?
ROXY: oh no
ROXY: i dont think dirk
ROXY: i know
JAKE: What makes you think our speculative armistice would warrant a successive snog?
ROXY: dont make me repeat myself
ROXY: now i will be happy to leave you both to it once you put out for the public jake
ROXY: thank god dirk is used to sloppy seconds
DIRK: Lift that line from one of your beloved yaoi manhwas?
ROXY: you know what
ROXY: no comment
DIRK: Of course.
JAKE: So what im just supposed to pretend for the gazillionth time that the finicky sensibilities of the masses are of tremendous concern to me?
JANE: Yes, that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do!
JANE: You’re an actor, aren’t you? Act.
JAKE: Crikey jane its not that simple.
JAKE: Perhaps ill have wrought clemency from your cockered contemporaries but i have my FANDOM to fret about just the same. Id hate to come off as some obsequious agent of the thin skinned powers that be and your bottom line would hate it all the same.
JAKE: You wouldnt know the first bloody thing about juggling such a sweeping audience of wackadoodles who tip toe on tenterhooks for my every move!
JANE: Uh-huh.
Jake squirms under the three sets of eyeballs trained on him. He picks at his collar as if the room’s suddenly gotten stuffy.
JAKE: On second thought you might have a comparable understanding.
JANE: Well, I’ll be!
JANE: Glad we’ve come to an understanding.
ROXY: was that an understanding
JANE: I am considering it such. By presidential decree.
JANE: I want Jake’s apology up in the next three hours, and then get rid of him.
ROXY: ooh
ROXY: get rid of him?
When you tilt your head at her, she drags her thumb across her throat.
JANE: I told you that I’m not in any position to have someone whacked.
JANE: Though, one more stunt like this and I might just consider it.
ROXY: hear that english
ROXY: youll be swimming with the fishes
JAKE: Hmph.
JAKE: Blood is a whopping expense you know.
JANE: I meant that Jake just needs to go away for a little while so this can simmer down. Out of sight, out of mind.
JANE: Make good on that “mental health break.”
JANE: But don’t call it that. It’ll cheapen his apology.
JAKE: Its darling how you think ill so deftly be liberated from the brains of my devotees.
JANE: I’ll liberate you from your own brain. Badda freakin’ bing.
JANE: Roxy, you got that?
ROXY: the threat of murder or the other thing
JANE: The other thing.
ROXY: yep im in there like swimwear
You step away from behind the couch so the three of you are no longer ganging up on Jake in a triangular formation. Roxy leans over to sweep her paperwork together into a neat pile, arranging Jake’s scripted apology right on top.
JANE: Then… we should make some sort of philanthropic gesture. A donation. Dirk, do you…
DIRK: Yeah. There’s the Arrean-Eronen Institute, The AACLU, the Save the Wigglers Fund…
JANE: Save the Wrigglers? That’s inoffensive, isn’t it?
DIRK: Sure. I’ll have someone get in touch.
ROXY: yeah but does that balance the scales
ROXY: does the reparation match the crime yknow
JANE: Oh, that’s true. I hadn’t thought about it like that.
DIRK: It’s an organization that supports trolls, owned and operated by trolls. Not a bad look for him.
JANE: It’s not like Jake made a slight against children, though, he made a slight against their species as a whole. Donating specifically to their youth rather than an institution specifically engineered to combat speciesism would make his gesture feel a tad disingenuous.
ROXY: yeah its like you say the childrens charities ARE inoffensive and thats kind of the problem
ROXY: theyre such a safe bet that its almost like jakes doing nothing at all
ROXY: like obviously nobody is going to protest supporting underprivileged children gray or otherwise so it could be read as an inadvertent double down on the speciesism while still appearing as though hes making amends
ROXY: you want my opinion i think the only option for him here is the AACLU
JAKE: Might i weigh in?
JANE: No. ROXY: no DIRK: No.
Jake flounces back against the sofa in a huffy heap. You glance over at Dirk for a third opinion. He sucks his teeth.
DIRK: Roxy’s right.
DIRK: You know I wouldn’t say that if it wasn’t the case.
ROXY: rude much
DIRK: Not because it was your suggestion, Lalonde, but because of the chairmen. Shit's fraught.
JANE: Hmmph.
JANE: Well, it’s not us donating to them, is it? It’s Jake. It plays.
ROXY: it does play
DIRK: Yeah.
JANE: Alright! It’s settled, then. Kill the wigglers, we’ll go AACLU.
JANE: Roxy, can you get that in motion?
ROXY: yes maam
ROXY: fuck them kids
ROXY: is that all?
JANE: For now.
ROXY: cool
Roxy leaps up, tucking her papers under one arm and swinging the other out to pull Jake to his feet. It takes him a second to zone back in enough to realize, but begrudgingly, he takes her hand to help himself up.
ROXY: gonna have his blubbering mug all over twitter in t minus 2 hours
She lets go of his hand to swat his backside.
ROXY: lets go azealia banks
JAKE: You know im damn near knackered of this big wig rigamarole.
JAKE: When i finally abdicate from the limelight…
ROXY: yeah yeah we know you can quit whenever you want to
You wait for the door to close behind both of them before you chance another look at Dirk.
JANE: How are you feeling?
DIRK: Are you really asking?
JANE: Of course I am.
Dirk doesn’t seem convinced, not exactly, but he doesn’t withdraw.
DIRK: I’m fine.
JANE: With all of it?
DIRK: Would you kill the donation if I wasn’t fine with it?
JANE: No, obviously not.
DIRK: Good.
JANE: That doesn’t mean I can’t be concerned.
DIRK: Hm.
JANE: I’m serious.
JANE: …
JANE: You know, in addition to Jake’s atonement, this donation could be a camouflaged olive branch from our administration.
DIRK: There’s also the chance that Karkat and Dave respond to any and all of our olive branches with chainsaws.
JANE: Well, prematurely pruning that would-be money tree is their prerogative. Not a particularly wise maneuver, if you ask me, but…
You hold up your hands. The gesture says, “who am I to judge?” right in time with your judgment.
JANE: It’s easy to be ideologically choosy when you’re the underdog.
JANE: Things get more complicated when you win.
JANE: Some people have trouble with that.
Dirk doesn’t say anything. It’s enough to warrant a frown. You move in and loop an arm through his.
JANE: What I mean to say is don’t let it get to you.
JANE: The only thing that keeps us human is being able to put work aside at the end of the day. Those of us who can’t are the ones with problems.
DIRK: Yeah.
DIRK: That's a dated turn of phrase, you know.
JANE: Pfft.
JANE: Well, it stays within these four walls. Get it?
You rock into his side. Ordinarily, it would not perturb him, but he allows himself to sway in place to placate you.
DIRK: Got it.
JANE: Good!
JANE: ...
JANE: Don’t sound so glum, okay?
JANE: You’re a good partner. A better friend.
JANE: Dave doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.
DIRK: Or maybe he knows exactly what he’s missing out on. Crunched the numbers, came up empty.
JANE: Tsk, tsk.
JANE: You really need to take Roxy’s advice.
DIRK: Brand new sentence.
JANE: I should hope not. She is our PR pundit after all!
DIRK: As far as I’m concerned, then.
DIRK: What advice are we even talking here?
You fasten him with a disapproving look before you detach yourself from his side, setting a course for the double doors.
JANE: Find somewhere to stick all that self-deprecation.
JANE: What’s the appetizer situation?
DIRK: Lookin’ at some serious grubs.
JANE: Seriously?
DIRK: Yeah, it’s grubs all the way down tonight.
JANE: Drat.
Dirk snaps his seatbelt. You blow a wayward curl out of your face, squinting to see out of the tinted window.
JANE: What are the optics of going without?
DIRK: On not touching the infant heart tartare?
DIRK: Hard to say.
DIRK: You want my advice, just avoid the waitresses.
JANE: Bluh.
JANE: I should’ve eaten before we came, but I just didn’t have the time to send someone out to grab lunch.
JANE: Lord knows I was not eating anything more from our kitchen.
DIRK: I did tell someone to look into that. Might’ve just been a subpar seafood shipment.
DIRK: Then again, that new chef seems like he has a real fondness for the scent of his colon. Tried to serve me a deconstructed Caesar salad yesterday.
JANE: Jeez, what a snob.
JANE: Oh well. It’s probably for the best that I didn’t manage to grab a bite. If I’d indulged, I might have looked all bloated tonight.
JANE: Or worse, pregnant.
DIRK: Just nurse a flute of distilled cerebrospinal fluid. That’ll stop the rumors before they start.
The venue is a nightmare: all the imposing, brutalist staples of Alternian architecture smack dab in the center of the most benign, Earthly urban strip imaginable. Like this hodgepodge of squares and steel had touched down from the heavens and squished one of a hundred identical high-rises in a row — a bona fide alien invasion in Everywhere, USA.
One of the perks of being the most important woman in the country is that there’s no need to wade through the crowd; people who want to speak to you will approach you, and before the conversation can even dream of dragging on, someone else will pop up out of the woodwork to steal your attention away.
Dirk, ever reliable, stays plastered to your side so that he can rattle off names, vocations, and pertinent fun facts about all who approach you. Generally speaking, you’re no slouch when it comes to squirreling away personal details about your peers for later use. But there’s no use in exerting yourself when Dirk’s always handy with a title and a topical opener. You’ve often wondered how deep he likes to think his influence as VP runs, but you’re not too keen on asking. Why pick at a good thing?
You laugh your way into a smooth exit from one conversation of a million. Dirk rests his hand on the small of your back so you can turn in towards him.
JANE: I’ve scoped the life out of this place. Eyes on Getger?
DIRK: Not yet.
You blow a raspberry and take a distinguished swig of your drink. Thankfully, it’s regular champagne. You think. You’d like to think. Dirk’s hand climbs upwards.
JANE: What?
DIRK: Don’t look now, but Dave showed.
JANE: Just Dave?
DIRK: Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.
JANE: Fantastic.
JANE: Are you going to say something to him?
DIRK: What would I say?
JANE: Gosh, I don’t know, Dirk. How about, “Hi, how are you?”
DIRK: Out of order. Next, you’ll suggest I ask him about the weather.
JANE: You’re ridiculous.
You finish the glass and discard it on the tray of a passing server. You toy with one dangling earring, tilting your head to one side so you can take a sweep of the room. Dave is easy to spot — mismatched among a sea of gray, a too-tall head poking out of the crowd. You turn back towards Dirk, whose jaw is clenched with the effort of holding something back. A subtle tic, but not so subtle that you don’t notice. You raise an eyebrow.
JANE: Out with it, mister.
DIRK: It’s nothing.
JANE: No?
DIRK: …
DIRK: Terrible suit. Dave’s in a terrible suit. No fucking clue what compelled him to wear that.
DIRK: Somewhere, a lofty Jewish boy coming of age will leave a Men’s Wearhouse empty-handed.
JANE: There it is.
JANE: It’s fun when you’re catty.
DIRK: I’m not catty.
DIRK: That was just an observation.
JANE: An observation about his untenable wardrobe choices.
DIRK: I’m not sure I appreciate the implication, Crocker.
JANE: I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about!
JANE: How’s the drink? The glass isn’t too heavy for your delicate joints, I hope.
DIRK: Now that you mention it, I am starting to feel a little sore.
DIRK: Lucky for me, you’re just mannish enough to handle this arduous task on my behalf.
JANE: Mee-ow!
He presses the glass into your hand, and you take a hasty sip to stifle your grin. A new wave of attendees flood in from the entryway and demand yet another slew of greetings. You exchange smiles with a slender jadeblood you faintly remember, and Dirk extends a hand to her that she shakes enthusiastically. Their small talk fizzles out as the woman disappears into the banquet, and his feeble suggestion of a smile evaporates as soon as the obligation of politesse is not holding it hostage on his face.
DIRK: Hey.
JANE: Hm?
DIRK: Getger.
Sure enough, you spot her wandering across the room. You finish off Dirk’s drink and shove the empty glass back at him.
JANE: Let’s make it happen.
DIRK: Roger that.
KARKAT: GOOD EVENING, MADAME PRESIDENT.
Dammit. Fire.
JANE: Mr. Vantas!
JANE: Fancy seeing you here.
JANE: And, Dave, always a pleasure.
DAVE: no mr strider huh
JANE: Well, then I’d just be confusing myself.
DAVE: cant have any more of that
He lifts his glass to Dirk, as if not noticing him before now.
DAVE: dirk
DIRK: Hey, Dave.
DIRK: Good to see you, man.
DAVE: yep
In your opinion, it speaks to Karkat’s character that he appears to be frustrated by Dave’s curtness. And, to his credit, his suit is far less apt for a blue-collar bar mitzvah. He’s easy to rival, not so easy to hate. Which, naturally, makes you hate him even more.
KARKAT: I WANTED TO THANK THE BOTH OF YOU FOR YOUR CONTRIBUTION TO OUR CAUSE.
JANE: I wasn’t aware one was made!
KARKAT: WELL, I CAN READ BETWEEN THE LINES.
KARKAT: I APPRECIATE THE GESTURE. EVEN IF YOU WERE MAKING IT ON SOMEONE ELSE’S BEHALF.
Your smile pinches your cheeks. Karkat, at least, has the decency to look perfectly guileless about this jab. He’s good at this. Dave, on the other hand, has that paradoxically smug Strider stoicism stamped all over his gaunt face. Not for the first time, you struggle to comprehend Dirk’s conflicted feelings over their estrangement.
JANE: I hate to contradict you, but we’ve got nothing to do with Jake’s professional ventures.
JANE: Nor his flubs, as it were!
JANE: Of course, that’s not to say we don’t wholeheartedly embrace your organization and its efforts, and it definitely isn’t to imply that we condone his actions. The executive office is always striving to eliminate speciesism.
KARKAT: RIGHT. MY BAD.
KARKAT: I’LL DO US BOTH THE FAVOR OF PRETENDING I BELIEVE A SINGLE GODDAMN WORD OF THAT.
DIRK: Always with the diplomatic approach.
KARKAT: WHAT CAN I SAY? SOMEONE HAS TO TAKE IT.
KARKAT: THOUGH, IT’S FASCINATING TO ME HOW WELL-OILED THE BUREAUCRATIC MACHINE OF OUR GOVERNMENT PROVES ITSELF TO BE WHEN IT COMES TO PAPERING OVER THE INDISCRETIONS OF THEIR CRONIES. ESPECIALLY IN COMPARISON TO THE MEANDERING APPROACH IT TAKES TO TACKLING INSTITUTIONALIZED XENOPHOBIA AS YOU CLAIM IT DOES.
DAVE: way easier to hypnotize the masses by way of englishs gluteus gains than play pretend with any real politics
DAVE: the crocker machine runs on sex appeal and brute fuckin force
DAVE: studies show that the gag reflex has been bred out of modern population pools due to the protracted ramming of propaganda right down the supple young throats of our people
DAVE: i mean three out of the four of us standing here might be some of the last people alive who cant take it right down the gullet with zero resistance
Dave pauses for effect. He gives you a pointed look.
DAVE: maybe two out of the four
JANE: Charming.
JANE: Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, or is that still just an itching fantasy of yours?
DAVE: whoah get a load of this broad coming in hot with the incest zingers
DAVE: no need to get bent all out of shape youre welcome to get in on this all the same momma
JANE: Mr. Vantas, I hate to sound pedantic, but I question the diligence of your organization when it allows itself to be represented by a chauvinist who takes a perverse delight in belittling women.
DAVE: as opposed to the far more morally righteous recreational delight in belittling women
JANE: Ah-ah. The grown-ups are talking, dear.
Dave mumbles something into his glass, a single syllable that roosts in the back of his throat. You raise your eyebrows at Karkat, probing.
KARKAT: WE’LL HANDLE IT INTERNALLY.
KARKAT: NOTHING A CHARITABLE DONATION IN HIS NAME CAN’T CLEAR UP.
JANE: Hoo hoo! Such a card, this one!
???: madame president?
You barely have a moment to react, and no time to detach yourself from this ill-becoming conversation, before Takcha is slinking up beside you. Double dammit.
TAKCHA: h∅pe i’m n∅t interrupting.
JANE: Never!
JANE: I was just chatting with some far more esteemed guests than I.
You cast a look over at Karkat. There are about two beats of eye contact before he lifts his chin.
KARKAT: WHEN DOES THE MODESTY WRAP BACK AROUND INTO DELUSION?
JANE: Oh, stop it.
You dare to swat at him playfully. Dirk and Dave stare at your hand as if you’ve stuck it into his pants.
KARKAT: ALWAYS A PLEASURE, TAKCHA.
TAKCHA: all mine!
TAKCHA: i can’t say i expected t∅ see much m∅re ∅f y∅u s∅ s∅∅n, th∅ugh. and certainly n∅t here.
KARKAT: WELL, I’M REEVALUATING THE IMPORTANCE OF BRUSHING FROND VERTICES.
TAKCHA: in that case, y∅u’re ∅ff t∅ a str∅ng start!
Takcha smiles personably at you. It sets you on edge as much as it eases your stress.
JANE: You ought to stop it too! Goodness me.
JANE: I’m the last person who deserves flattery tonight.
JANE: Anyhoo, it’s wonderful to see you, Ms. Getger.
JANE: You’ve met Mr. Dirk Strider, of course.
TAKCHA: yes, h∅w d∅ y∅u d∅?
DIRK: Never better. How’s your matesprit?
TAKCHA: g∅∅d, he’s g∅∅d!
DIRK: Still running that spot in…
TAKCHA: thrashthrust, yes. the very same. thanks f∅r asking.
TAKCHA: still very happy there, t∅∅.
There’s an ugly pause where someone would usually flip the question around.
DAVE: yeah jake is good too
DIRK: That he is.
TAKCHA: i'm happy t∅ hear that.
DAVE: might be feelin a draft though
JANE: A draft?
DAVE: well cant imagine hes got central heating in the doghouse
DAVE: and definitely cant imagine you sprung to keep him indoors after his latest and greatest fuck up
DAVE: its cool though as long as he doubles up on socks and does laps around the room to keep the blood pumping he probably wont lose any toes
DAVE: trust me i spent the end of every month freezing my ass off but ive still got all nine of mine
You set your jaw. A waitress shimmies her way through the crowd, and you relieve her of the final glass on her tray.
TAKCHA: ah. i heard.
TAKCHA: celebrities. right?
TAKCHA: n∅ ∅ffense, mr. vice president.
DIRK: Hey, I’m right there with you.
TAKCHA: ign∅rance is s∅ hard t∅ be surprised by these days, even fr∅m th∅se with all the res∅urces in the w∅rld.
TAKCHA: unf∅rtunate that he’s g∅t such a platf∅rm.
DIRK: It’s certainly regrettable.
DIRK: With his show going off the air, though, he’ll certainly have time to reflect on how to make better use of it.
TAKCHA: ∅h, sure.
DAVE: at least something good came of it right
DAVE: i mean performative moneys still money
TAKCHA: perf∅rmative m∅ney?
Karkat’s mouth twitches. So does his hand. There’s no doubt in your mind he would gladly backhand Dave if not for the social obligation keeping his arm stuck to his side. To an extent, you can empathize: having a Strider as your partner in crime can certainly be a headache. You’re just lucky Dirk’s mastered the art of shutting up far better than Karkat’s compadre of choice.
KARKAT: ENGLISH DONATED A SUBSTANTIAL SUM.
KARKAT: I GUESS HE WISENED UP ENOUGH TO WALK BACK HIS WORDS.
DAVE: wise aint the word id use
DAVE: shit if i had two of the most powerful people in the country on my case about slipping the m word on live television id fork over whatever dollar amount they told me to
DAVE: really hes just lucky to have a couple of upstanding pals like you in his life to keep him in check
Dave bows his head towards the two of you, and you take a distraught chug of your champagne. Takcha’s eyebrows jump.
TAKCHA: is that true?
DAVE: word to your lusus
TAKCHA: w∅w.
TAKCHA: that’s admirable.
DAVE: what
JANE: Hm?
You swallow hard before you can spit up back into your glass. Takcha makes a flitting, gentle gesture with one hand at odds with her stout stature.
TAKCHA: h∅lding y∅ur family acc∅untable like that.
TAKCHA: having him pay real dues.
TAKCHA: g∅ing s∅ far as t∅ rem∅ve a pr∅fitable sh∅w fr∅m the air.
TAKCHA: t∅ me, that’s allyship.
TAKCHA: we can’t ch∅∅se ∅ur family, but we can ch∅∅se h∅w t∅ engage with them.
JANE: Right.
JANE: …
JANE: Right!
JANE: It’s all too easy to dismiss the hurtful opinions of those in your cohort out of hand, but it would be irresponsible to ignore his hate rather than correct it. Being a combatant of speciesism means doing the hard work, even when it sullies your image.
JANE: As an individual, and certainly as our country's leader, I seek to engage with the cultures of my people in a respectful, productive manner. Needless to say, Dirk and I are ashamed of Jake’s, um… behavior.
DIRK: Deeply.
JANE: Deeply ashamed!
JANE: But we refuse to let trolls do emotional labor that we should be taking on.
DIRK: As a privileged class.
JANE: Yes, exactly!
It takes a substantial amount of effort to keep from exchanging looks with Dirk. Or maybe busting out that handshake you perfected back in the medium involving both hands and both feet. In a similar vein, you don’t risk peering over at Dave and Karkat, but their joint silence inspires all the internal gloating you could hope for. Takcha smiles.
TAKCHA: hear, hear.
TAKCHA: ∅ften, humans feel that their culture is at ∅dds with ∅urs. they get defensive. s∅ i am glad t∅ kn∅w y∅u make use ∅f y∅ur privilege t∅ uplift.
TAKCHA: karkat feels similar, i’m sure.
KARKAT: YEAH. YEP.
KARKAT: THE SUPPORT OF OUR PRESIDENT IS AN INVALUABLE ASSET TO THE MISSION OF OUR ORGANIZATION, AND I’M GLAD TO HAVE IT.
JANE: Well, I’m even gladder to hear it, if you don’t mind me repaying that earlier favor of yours.
You finally turn to look at him, a smile pre-plastered over your face. Karkat takes a measured sip of his drink like he might attempt to rip your throat out if not preoccupying his mouth, social obligation be damned. Takcha trills, a sharp ‘a-ha!’ sound.
TAKCHA: speaking ∅f culture.
TAKCHA: have y∅u had any ∅f the t∅rturetières?
She takes the elbow of a passing server, and his tray wobbles precariously. She doesn’t seem to notice the stricken expression that darkens his features as he regains his balance, though.
JANE: I can’t say that I have.
TAKCHA: y∅u have t∅. t∅ die f∅r.
TAKCHA: an avant-garde take ∅n a m∅re traditi∅nal meat pie.
TAKCHA: th∅ugh in transparency, my matesprit’s kitchen pr∅vided the catering. s∅ i'm biased.
TAKCHA: they w∅uldn’t ∅rdinarily. it’s an exclusive sp∅t. but i pulled s∅me strings f∅r the ∅ccasi∅n.
She plucks two teensy saucers off the tray and holds one out to you. You take it from her, returning her smile.
JANE: Thank you.
Once you’ve it in your possession, you try to place the… aroma of it. It’s not an Earthly smell, but it’s strangely familiar. Takcha has no such hesitation and is quick to pop the whole thing into her mouth. Not one to be impolite, you follow her lead.
You practically feel it plunk in your stomach, swimming in nothing but a sea of bubbly liquor. The immediate churning sensation is almost enough to distract you from the truly abhorrent flavor. Your throat tightens. Your belly goes through a flip, flop, somersault sort of maneuver, and before you can even steel yourself, it comes right back up. You manage to turn your head so that you don’t projectile vomit across the damn room, but instead projectile vomit right down Karkat’s front.
DAVE: holy shit KARKAT: FUCK!
TAKCHA: wh∅ah!
TAKCHA: cr∅cker, are y∅u…
JANE: Oh, god—
TAKCHA: here, i have—
Your head spins. Dirk is at your side in an instant, jacket doffed, draping it around you and scrubbing at your face with some foreign handkerchief. You reach out blindly, desperately, without much of a plan at all, to paw uselessly at the bile sliding down Karkat’s navel and over his… oh, and now you’ve just groped his crotch. Well. Well, well, well.
Well! Aren’t you a hapless heroine!
JANE: Oh my god.
JANE: I’m sorry. I didn’t…
KARKAT: IT’S FINE. JESUS FUCK. IT’S OKAY.
KARKAT: JUST…
He’s standing stock still like a cat with socks on. He shakes both hands though there’s nothing on them, and you, red-faced, straighten yourself up and away from him. The room is congested enough that while people have noticed this commotion, the whole audience of attendees has not. Thank god for that.
DIRK: Dave, will you take off that… thing?
DAVE: what?
DIRK: Your jacket.
DIRK: You should…
DAVE: why the fuck should i—
DIRK: Because mine is Brioni, and we need to clean—
DAVE: —are you seriously trying to flex—
KARKAT: HEY, DAVE, I AM COVERED IN REGURGITATED CHITIN CHUNKS.
KARKAT: GET OVER YOURSELF AND LISTEN TO THIS DICKHEAD FOR ONCE.
JANE: Chitin chunks?
JANE: Like, minced reproductive organs?
You touch your lips, lightheaded. You’ve just eaten ground, battered, and fried baby ovaries and testes. Or whatever their troll equivalent is. You could almost retch again. Dave, who appears almost as flustered as you are, shoves his blazer towards Karkat.
TAKCHA: um.
TAKCHA: hah.
TAKCHA: maybe i didn’t acc∅unt f∅r a human palate.
JANE: Gee, you think?
This comes out much snappier than intended, and you force a little self-effacing laugh to smooth things back over.
JANE: I mean, um… well, it’s certainly different, isn’t it?
JANE: Your matesprit must have a real knack for innovation in the kitchen!
TAKCHA: well, it’s…
TAKCHA: like i said. s∅rt ∅f a cultural staple ∅f ∅urs.
TAKCHA: that’s s∅rt ∅f the theme t∅ it. the meal.
TAKCHA: classic alternian ∅fferings.
TAKCHA: s∅ we can break grubl∅af with ∅ur human allies.
JANE: Break grubloaf.
JANE: That’s really how you say that, huh.
TAKCHA: pard∅n?
JANE: No matter! No matter.
JANE: Just… disagreed with me, that’s all!
JANE: We've got a fancy new head chef at the White House, and my stomach's still getting used to their stylings.
JANE: If they keep this up, though, they might not be much longer for my kitchen. Hoo hoo.
TAKCHA: ∅h n∅. that's t∅∅ bad.
TAKCHA: it's trafl∅, right?
JANE: Hm?
TAKCHA: y∅ur chef.
TAKCHA: he was my matesprit's s∅us chef f∅r s∅me time. still takes much inspirati∅n fr∅m him.
TAKCHA: very talented guy.
JANE: Oh.
JANE: That's nice.
JANE: Um, well, of course! Very talented. Wouldn't have hired him otherwise.
JANE: Ahem.
JANE: It’s my fault for drinking on an empty belly.
JANE: Well. A comparatively empty belly.
JANE: So don’t mind me. I’m sure your matesprit’s cuisine, and all cuisine inspired by him, is a real hit with your…
JANE: With you!
Takcha’s smile is thin, taut, and her eyes are wide.
TAKCHA: sure. it sure is.
TAKCHA: y∅u d∅n’t get tw∅ michelin stars f∅r n∅thing.
TAKCHA: but he’d be happy t∅ hear y∅u think that. i’ll let him kn∅w.
TAKCHA: and i’ll…
TAKCHA: we’ll be in t∅uch!
JANE: Yes!
She slips away before you can cinch this connection. You call after her nonetheless.
JANE: We will!
Then, you’re standing there, shielded from most views by a gaggle of men, swaddled in Dirk’s jacket like you’re a little girl playing dress-up in your dad’s work clothes. You could really, really almost retch again.
KARKAT: …DAVE, CALL THE DRIVER.
Part of you expects Dave to resist this. He’s not an assistant, he’s not a lackey, why should he… but, wordlessly, he shuffles away to comply. This gives you the stones to look up at Dirk, silently asking the same thing, and he goes just as easily. That leaves you alone with your victim. Karkat struggles to find a way to hold Dave’s jacket casually over his front. You ball up the mysterious handkerchief in your fist.
JANE: I’m sorry I grabbed your…
You cringe. Course-correct.
JANE: I’m sorry I barfed all over you.
KARKAT: YEAH.
KARKAT: IT’S…
Despite having offered the apology to begin with, you don’t really want him to tell you it's okay. How patronizing would that be? You’re the fucking president. You don’t need reassurances from political adversaries. Thankfully, before he can get there, Dirk comes to grab you by the arm. Still, you stare at him as Dirk leads you out of the conversation, out of the ballroom, out the back door, until facing forward is unavoidable.
Though Dirk’s suit jacket swallows you, it is regrettably not big enough for you to disappear completely into it. The two of you sit in protracted silence as your driver cruises down the largely vacant street, tempered only by the hum of hip-hop from the front seat.
Dirk drums a hand against his knee.
DIRK: This is that rapper.
JANE: Who?
DIRK: The guy Jake had on his show.
DIRK: Y’know, who he was quoting when he had his slip.
JANE: This guy?
JANE: …
JANE: You know a thing or two about rap.
DIRK: I’d like to think so.
JANE: It’s not very good, is it?
DIRK: Eh.
JANE: Marvelous.
JANE: All that hullabaloo for this.
As if perfectly, cosmically on cue, right as you tune in to listen, the song drops a gruff mutant. Your head falls back against the cool leather seat. Then, projecting your voice up to the driver:
JANE: Turn it up, please.