Oneida
Established Nation
“You should be careful as to not show any sort of superiority over her but also neither to show any sort of out of the normal respect for her position,” Chief of Staff Susanna Petit explained “She is the Head of State of a foreign country, who happens to be a she.”
“Enough,” Sanabria threw his hands up at his Chief of Staff “I do not need to be briefed on how to handle a fucking woman. I’m not a fucking idiot.”
“But you are an Aurarian,” one of his aides spoke, while ironing his white shirt. The President shot him a look “I am just saying, there’s a reputation.”
“Same for the Elbener,” the President said under his breath, rising to his feet. He walked over to a large window in his office that gave an immaculate view of the Moro Gardens. He picked up a glass of Gunnish Whiskey.
“Really?” Susanna asked “It’s quite early.”
“Not in Touzen,” the President replied.
“Are we in Touzen?” Susanna shot back – but she was interrupted with a knock on the door. In came Communications Director Dana Ortega y Gisset.
“Mr. President,” she said “Here is your briefing material on the current situation in Retalia. Along with a refresher on Occitania.”
“Thank you,” the President answered. He walked over to the counter that Dana had put the folder on. On the way, he grabbed his shirt and threw it on. “Cufflinks?”
“They’re so tacky,” his aid replied – the President nodded in agreement as he began shuffling the documents in his briefing book. He paused on a map of the division of Occitania. “They really do surround us,” he thought. His aid came to his side, setting down a purple silk tie that he was so well known to wear.
“Again?” he asked, the aid nodded.
Sanabria wrapped the tie around his neck and started the process of tying it, without taking his eyes off of the briefing book in front of him. Susanna walked up and stood next to him.
“The media storm about this meeting,” she started “it certainly sends a message. A lot is on the line here. I wonder how the Pelasgians will react to this.”
“Shouldn’t be much of a bother,” Sanabria replied “Last I checked, Serenierre was a Gallian nation. We need some sort of relationship here that isn’t based on antagonism. Imagine what we can accomplish.”
Dana looked at her phone as a text came in. “Mr. President,” she stated “I’ve just gotten word that Premier Martinique has arrived. She’s on her way to Marisela Palace as we speak.”
Sanabria nodded, and grabbed his suit jacket, throwing that on as he walked out of the room. He continued down the halls of the ornate Marisela Palace – originally built as the home of the Aurarian Kings. The Palace was certainly not humbled once the Republicans moved in, no matter how much it was claimed that the building now belonged to the people. It seemed that every corner the President turned a new aid would follow his entourage. As he turned the final hall, two members of the Republican Guard opened the doors in the Presidential Reception Room.
He then stood and waited as Premier Martinque arrived.
“Enough,” Sanabria threw his hands up at his Chief of Staff “I do not need to be briefed on how to handle a fucking woman. I’m not a fucking idiot.”
“But you are an Aurarian,” one of his aides spoke, while ironing his white shirt. The President shot him a look “I am just saying, there’s a reputation.”
“Same for the Elbener,” the President said under his breath, rising to his feet. He walked over to a large window in his office that gave an immaculate view of the Moro Gardens. He picked up a glass of Gunnish Whiskey.
“Really?” Susanna asked “It’s quite early.”
“Not in Touzen,” the President replied.
“Are we in Touzen?” Susanna shot back – but she was interrupted with a knock on the door. In came Communications Director Dana Ortega y Gisset.
“Mr. President,” she said “Here is your briefing material on the current situation in Retalia. Along with a refresher on Occitania.”
“Thank you,” the President answered. He walked over to the counter that Dana had put the folder on. On the way, he grabbed his shirt and threw it on. “Cufflinks?”
“They’re so tacky,” his aid replied – the President nodded in agreement as he began shuffling the documents in his briefing book. He paused on a map of the division of Occitania. “They really do surround us,” he thought. His aid came to his side, setting down a purple silk tie that he was so well known to wear.
“Again?” he asked, the aid nodded.
Sanabria wrapped the tie around his neck and started the process of tying it, without taking his eyes off of the briefing book in front of him. Susanna walked up and stood next to him.
“The media storm about this meeting,” she started “it certainly sends a message. A lot is on the line here. I wonder how the Pelasgians will react to this.”
“Shouldn’t be much of a bother,” Sanabria replied “Last I checked, Serenierre was a Gallian nation. We need some sort of relationship here that isn’t based on antagonism. Imagine what we can accomplish.”
Dana looked at her phone as a text came in. “Mr. President,” she stated “I’ve just gotten word that Premier Martinique has arrived. She’s on her way to Marisela Palace as we speak.”
Sanabria nodded, and grabbed his suit jacket, throwing that on as he walked out of the room. He continued down the halls of the ornate Marisela Palace – originally built as the home of the Aurarian Kings. The Palace was certainly not humbled once the Republicans moved in, no matter how much it was claimed that the building now belonged to the people. It seemed that every corner the President turned a new aid would follow his entourage. As he turned the final hall, two members of the Republican Guard opened the doors in the Presidential Reception Room.
He then stood and waited as Premier Martinque arrived.