✏ 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬.

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐭.

    
    
"And with the conclusion of my speech, I'll bid you lot a farewell and a good day." The suited man tightly smiled, adjusting his velvet red tie as he looked down at the crowd below. The notorious election candidate observed the various expressions etched into the faces of the crowd below, though it was hard with the flickering lights amongst them blinding him.

Turning off flash isn't a hard thing to do, asshole, Schlatt mentally growled, though his ego and his presidential career would not have bode well with that comment.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he looked back to the faces below. Some were twinkling with excitement and awe, though some skeptical people were glaring at him, though Schlatt was sure they'll never win more of the votes anyways.

"And don't forget..." Schlatt carried on, turning his back on the crowd before him, hoping it looks as cool as it did in his head. "..to vote for me on the election day."

As the crowds started to burst into discord and conversations once more, he strut out of view from the stage, his exit flashier than the paparazzis' and journalists' camera lights.

As he slid behind the red curtains and out of view of the crowd's keen eyes, Schlatt's salesman smile faded into a disgruntled child that's been told to eat their greens. Without a second thought, he loosened his tie and loudly groaned.

"I'm fucking beat." The man cussed, laying the back of his hand on his forehead as he slumped onto a seat behind. "God, those fuckers are gullible. Seriously? I increased their taxes and they're cheering my name like they're at the band of some overrated pop star—"

A light tap on the shoulder was more than enough to startle the man into sitting straight up.

"What the fuck do you want?"

The bodyguard looked fearful, as he should, and proceeded to state, "A visitor."

"Who in the fuck gave you the fucking permission to let someone come in after my damn speech?" Schlatt pinched the bridge of his nose, adjusting his collar as he prepared for an unexpected visitor. "I'll send you to the cuck shed if it's not someone important."

The bodyguard stared down at the floor, his hands shaking but still maintaining the dutiful and devoted tone in his voice. "My bad, sir."

As Schlatt dusted his lapels and ambled towards the door, he made sure to open it with a wide and charming smile, one that would make a married lady swoon at his feet. It's important to always smile no matter the situations, besides the annoying ones like funerals and the sort.

The door clicked open to reveal a lanky man, holding tightly onto his bag strap closely to his body, bespectacled with a dirty pair of circle glasses. His hair curled out of his beanie, and every button was buttoned up. His eyes dart around the backstage and he nervously shot Schlatt a smile.

This guy seems like a journalist, Schlatt scrutinized, and for him to even be let in here, he has to have ties with the big guys.

Holding his hand out to the journalist, he asked the lad, "Well, hello there! You're speaking to the next president, J.Schlatt."

Confidence was key, Schlatt reminded himself, though he felt his earlier statement to reek with egotism. Not hesitating, he continued, "And you look quite familiar but I can't place my finger on it— what's your name?"

"Wait, what—" The journalist started to sweat, misinterpreting Schlatt's attempts at sweet talking him, though nonetheless, shook his hand. "I'm Wilbur Soot! A journalist from the Whale Times.. a pleasure to talk to you, Mister Schlatt."

"Same here. So, what brings you here?"

The journalist scratched his chin, his eyes resting anywhere but on Schlatt. "I—I'm here to ask a few questions on behalf of the Whale Times."

"Oh, I'd love to answer them!" Schlatt lied, "You know me."

"y–yeah.."

Schlatt brought his fingers to his chin, holding them as he looked up at the man. "Come on in, it's too impolite to keep a visitor outside."

"Thank you, Mister Schlatt."

As Schlatt thread through his room, he couldn't help but mentally complain about it all. He was going to be interviewed by such a big newspaper company, and right after his damn speech too. Couldn't they just wait a fucking day? No seasoned journalist would have the balls to approach him like this after hearing all the gossip floating around if they didn't have a death wish.

Keeping his cool, Schlatt gingerly pulled a seat out from underneath the table and shot the journalist a reassuring smile. "Take a seat. I don't bite."

"Thank you for the seat, Mister Schlatt."

"No problems, Mister Soot." Schlatt's tight smile returned.

Schlatt perched himself on his seat, looking at the journalist with his best pokerface he has up his sleeve. He mentally cracked his fingers and prepped up into business mode.

"So," The presidential candidate dragged his fingers across the table, looking at the journalist with eyes that could scare a dead fish into fleeing. ".. about the questions."

"Oh—" He seemed to be properly intimidated, his fingers clenching up into a fist as he continued to avoid Schlatt's eyes. "Yeah, about them."

With a sinister smile creeping onto his face, he closed his eyes. "Care to start? I don't have all day."