[For Frank] Fire on the Hill

[happyfalcon]

The news spread through the foreign embassies like wildfire. Even among the younger, greener staff members. A great fight had broken out between the President and the First Lady. And she'd stormed out of the building. But Anne Boleyn made it a point to be out of the British Embassy as much as possible, and in the White House observing as much as she possibly could to report back to the ambassador, and then the Prime Minister and, with any luck, Her Majesty herself.

Anne had never been a fan of Claire Underwood. The woman was fake, and obviously so. She made no attempt to hide her contempt for anyone. But then, as the First Lady, perhaps she had the right to be genuine. But Anne preferred to play her cards closer to the vest. Let her enemies try and figure out what she's thinking, there was no reading a falcon's mind. She enjoyed watching her enemies spin their wheels trying to figure her out.

But then again, she didn't have many enemies. She was only an attaché, after all. But she had more ambition than most of her fellow staff members did.

Many ambassadors were considering leaving their posts in the States. They didn't know if Frank Underwood was worth their time. Thus their aids and attachés were sent in their stead. To meet with the President, one by one, to conduct their own evaluations and determine whether or not he was worth continuing to deal with. Of course, Anne was in attendance, representing the United Kingdom, representing Britain.

She waited in the designated meeting room, seated with one leg folded over the other, black pencil skirt clinging to her slender figure with a loose teal blouse covering her from the waist up, dark hair falling in waves down her back. Many aids would be nervous, with Secret Servicemen standing at every doorway.

Not Anne. She was silent. Glancing over her notepad and waiting patiently.

Comments

[franklymydear]

Frank was furious, but he couldn't decide if he was more mad at Claire, for leaving, and causing a scene, and in all likelihood, single-handedly sabotaging his otherwise increasingly successful campaign run, out of spite and utter foolishness, or at himself, for not having seen it coming and nipped it in the bud. The biggest problem with his wife making a fool out of him was him allowing it to happen. It should have been dealt with. Had she been anyone else - any other associate - he would have seen it for what it was, and taken proactive measures. But he hadn't, because their agreement had been doubting and eliminating everyone while promising each other their full confidence.

It had all been a lie, and though he could see no shortage of faults, he, at least, had provided no illusions about who he was and what he wanted. He had made known exactly what she was getting herself into, and broken no rules between them, nor the promise their marriage actually represented. She had, and he took that as the ultimate betrayal from the one person he never thought it possible.

He looked aged from his brief presidency so far, hair almost entirely silver when just a year or two ago it had been still brown, and full. It was still full, but there was hardly any color left to it. Fortunately, he could work it easily for a distinguished angle, but it was his face that showed his weariness. In truth, he was considerably more tired than he appeared, but he had enough resolve, at least, to hold it in. He kept himself together with anger as his glue, and had bit his tongue to keep from shouting half the visiting dignitaries and representatives out the door.

He wouldn't land his own fatal blow. He was not his father. Suicide, literal or metaphorical, would never be an option.

Still, he could seem short-tempered. He could be allowed that. Anything less would be suspicious, really, for those coming in towards the end of what felt like interrogations or his last hearing. It wasn't over yet, but it could be. The second Claire went on TV with anything she knew about him, well... At worst, he'd be sent to prison, probably for life. At best, she would embarrass him with no small number of personal secrets.

Whatever he'd been discussing with everyone, the gears had been spinning and the forefront of his thoughts were on ways to counter Claire, and whatever she did, if she did anything at all.

His chair was turned away from the door, as he chewed on a pen, when he heard the door open again. With an elongated sigh through his nose, he spoke without even turning. "If you've come to harangue me about the first lady, you can spare us both and walk right back out that door."

[happyfalcon]

Anne had felt the tension before she'd even walked into the room. It was almost amusing. If it was anything British ambassador Sir Peter Westmacott enjoyed discussing, it was how the States should return to being Colonies of mother England, and how the superpower was driving itself into the ground. Anne didn't necessarily agree, but she couldn't help finding amusement when men in power found themselves frustrated and in a bind. It was almost like they didn't know what to do with themselves.

She settled better in the chair on the other side of the President's desk and set her notepad in her lap.

"That's a personal matter of yours, Mr. President. Not to be rude, but I'm not interested in your personal life," though there was more than a little zing to her tone. "Britain and Her Majesty have better things to worry about than the particulars of your marriage."

Anne flipped to a blank page in her pocket notebook. Her pen was poised, ready to make note of anything that she deemed worthy. But her dark eyes were focused entirely on the back of that chair.

"I'm here to determine whether or not you still possess the strength to be a worthwhile ally," Anne crossed one leg over the other and kept her eyes focused forward.

She wasn't about to have a conversation with the back of a chair. No matter what office that chair happened to occupy. Anne had gotten this far demanding respect. It seemed women in the States had more respect than women in England - which was only proven true by the fact that women in her offices at the British Embassy more or less went ignored.

She refused to be ignored. In her office or out. Especially not by the United States President. She had earned her time here, she would make use of every single second.

Her time was just as valuable as his.