Samtök Reykja Fullvalda Dax Ilsa's eyes were cold as steel, the gaze of their icy blue locked upon his own as she spoke. Locks of dirty blonde hair brushing against his face, causing him to reach up to scratch the freshly shaven skin of his jaw. She spoke slowly, softly, her lips barely a centimeter from his own. "Stay on point. Show them why you are different. Don't worry about what your father would say, or wouldn't say." The warmth of her hands cupping his cheeks was followed by a kiss so brief that were it not for the skip of his heart he wouldn't have known it had even happened. Blood red fingernails tracing down his skin brought him out of the brief reverie. "So, basically do what I've been doing?" Ian's brow arching, the smirk on his lips causing a slightly more pronounced crease along the scar that ran down his cheek. "Yes. Smart ass. That. Do that." Her grip upon his shoulders was surprisingly firm as she spun him around. "Now, get your ass out there and do what you do. Wake me when it's over." Ian briefly withdrew his right hand from his coat pocket, the black gloved index finger tugging at the 'power tie' to loosen its draconian grip around his throat. He'd at least had the sense to do it once Ilsa couldn't see. He closed his eyes, shoving his hand back into confines of his black coat, taking a deep breath before stepping out onto the stage. It was funny really, the things that could make a person nervous. He'd been raised in politics where he seen the rigors of leadership take their toll on his father, he'd done three tours of duty in Prydania before some Syndie with an RPG decided his tank looked like it would be a fun target, and then two tours after that. All of that, plus two divorces, all before the age of 40, and this was the only time he'd ever felt nervous. The moment the glaring lights hit him he'd wished to God that he were just doing a normal campaign rally. Trying as best he can to look out into the crowd, left hand shielding his eyes as he alternated smiling and waving whilst casting his glance downward and towards the middle seating. There were all the accouterments one would expect from a late night talk show, fireplace, cozy couch and faux late night city skyline. Though he was actually somewhat impressed that the latter wasn't just a greenscreen. Keeping it old school, I approve!. What he didn't approve of was the host. By all accounts and objective sources, Brian Letok was a petty self important piss ant. What was worse was that he was a piss ant who, to Ian at least, bore more resemblance to a potato than any human being had a right to. After having given it a bit more thought, the worst thing was that in spite of all of these things Letok had somehow inherited this platform based entirely on his ill formed pretentious opinions put forth as fact and lovingly dipped in so much humour and sarcasm that the masses ate it up. His best genuine fake smile took front and centre as he endured the opening ritual handshake, in this case it reminded him more of boxers touching gloves before a bout. Too bad its not, I'd enjoy breaking his hand, big smiling bald headed rolly ass son of a bitch... He ignored the look from the host as he briefly reached out with his right hand, giving three shakes - not more - not less - before putting it back in his coat. Ian was both glad to be seated and saddened by the fact that the coffee sitting out for him hadn't been spiked. He'd accepted the invite to the show knowing it would be somewhat of a hostile interview at best, he decided to go on the offensive once the initial pleasantries were out of the way. "It's nice to be here, Brian. It really is." He laughed softly, taking a sip of what even he had to admit was good coffee. "And a pleasure to have you on at long last, Mr. Pershing. It's got to be kind of crazy out there on the campaign trail, I'd imagine." Ian nodded, smirking slightly. "Ian, please. And I don't know. It's amazing to see all of the people out there, hear their stories and... if I can just be honest here fora second. It's even nicer, Brian, to see that the people of our country are finally waking the fuck up and seeing.... " Half the crowd clapped or yelled or howled their approval, the other half gasping or attempting to get in some heckling. " ...and seeing, that we've got to try something different!" The redness that flooded across the host's cheeks only served to make his plump face appear all the more so. He'd no sooner opened his mouth before Ian interjected. "You've got a delay right?" "If we didn't we do now!" Pershing could hardly stifle his laughter. "See? That's what I mean! It's a word. A word that.. that WOW, a man running for President shouldn't say. And yet..." He gestured out into the crowd. "Raise your hand if you haven't said it!" He stood up, counting the hands that raised. "You're like, what... twelve? Good for you!" "You didn't bring strippers, did you? Drugs? 90's boy band CD's?" "I should have, Brian! I should have. Because then the good people out there would get to see right here, on your stage, thanks to you and I, what our Þingmaður do on an almost daily basis when they're not in session and having pissing contests!" The rotund host held a hand up to the increasingly raucous crowd. "I know, I know. MP's urinating is top rated material right now.But... but..." Gradually the soft roar died down and allowed him to continue. "but there are some who would point to the last five years, or even to the fifteen years your father held office for, and say 'look, we got a lot of good things done here and though our system isn't great it can work' so if it wasn't broken for them why do you insist it is?" Ian's smile widened, "You know what, Brian. That's a bloody good question. But... first.. can we get a big round of applause for my father? The 34th President of Samtök Reykja Fullvalda Dax... Frasier Aleksandr Pershing!! Come on, even if you didn't vote for the bastard!" As he'd expected, some of the audience seemed to feel a bit awkward at that last bit but within a few seconds the raucous applause was almost deafening. "See? Tax rebates. The ultimate way to reach across the aisle! Though.. to answer your question, Brian. I'll tell you why." His demeanor grew much more calm, the raspy barritone of his voice becoming suddenly much more apparent. "Look. I grew up in Vitmyr Heim, or at least lived in it for ten years. I seen how my father would spend days, weeks, making calls making deals trying, sometimes begging and promising things he didn't know how he could deliver on just to try to get some piece of legislation through. That tax break I mentioned earlier? He had to promise.. I don't remember who, I just recall him being on the phone with some idiot. He promised this guy, he was the MP from Nýtt Beaconsviði as I recall.. he promised him that he'd allow an add on to that tax break that would appropriate funds for a three million cross grant to a college for a road. A single road. A single road in a rich part of the city where there were already quite adequate roads." Ian took a sip of his coffee and continued. "I know this, because he told me as much when he seen me standing in the corner of his office and, I don't know. I guess he just needed to vent. He told me that... and I asked him why he agreed to it. He told me that there was no winning in politics without also losing. And it's that mentality that is why our government is what it is. It's why our system doesn't work for us, its why our sons and daughters fought in a war in Prydania against a threat... a very real threat, that the current administration refuses to acknowledge exists in our own nation." His hand raised dismissively at the interruption from Brian "One sec... one sec... and if you put me in there. If you elect me. So help me I'll put a stop to it. I don't give a damn what I have to do. You will see a government that starts to spend its money wisely, you will have a President that will hold people in the Alþingi accountable for what they do. We will be in this together. That is what I am here for. That is what the Social Commonwealth party is here for."