Date: April 7, 2010
Before the President is due to appear on Campus, there are some preparations that need to take place.
New York University Campus
The President's visit to the New York University isn't a secret. It's advertised in the newspaper, there's banners up on campus welcoming the President, people gathering and lining up. As with most Presidental visits, it also includes one other thing that stands out. Protestors. Lined along the campus, people hold signs, protesting various things. Too many taxes. No more torture to fight terror. Black people shouldn't be President. Bring the troops home.
So many signs protesting so many things.
But nothing to protest a tall blonde woman in fashionable clothes, and the well dressed darker skinned man that walks nearby. The bracelet doesn't even have a flashing light, like the collar did. It's bulky, but such bracelets are fashionable, these days.
"It'd be nice if we could do this in a less public way, but unfortunately our options are limited. We couldn't find what hotel he would be staying in… Think you'll be up for shaking hands with the President?"
"It would be an honor, in fact. And quite the moment for photographers when he makes a white girl swoon, hm?" An unfortunate side-effect, but something that the man is already aware of when it comes to using her powers. "And the fact that you couldn't find what hotel he's staying in isn't surprising. It just means someone is doing their job at an acceptable level, right?"
If the goal is to make for a picturesque moment, one for the ages, or to make sure that the President would single her out for a handshake, Emily is doing her best. In the heat of the city (90 degrees in early April? Talk about global warming…which apparently, some protesters are), Emily is all low-cut this and leg that! The blue dress is aquatic in both color and look; the fabric is cut to look like fish scales, smaller through the shoulder straps and across her belly, but larger near the hem. The hem itself is way up on her thigh, showing off a lot of leg…and that's in addition to the deep cut well below her breasts, which leaves a lot of her cleavage just…WHAM right there. Beige pump heels (and thar fashionable bracelet, of course) complete the ensemble, with her hair down to blow about in what little breeze there is. Yep, that should get the President's attention, alright.
"There will be someone blending in with the crowd to help me up once I do it, right?"
"Don't worry, we'll have someone there to catch you," Fariq says with a grin, well aware that one of the side effects of this plan would be the public appearance of the poor girl fainting after shaking hands with the President. He doubts it's the first time it's happened. "The heat actually helps with that— it could be dismissed as fainting and heatstroke both." That's what they'd been hoping for, and the weather agreed, with the sunlight pouring down, and the temperature high.
"It's really too bad this President is notoriously reserved. Two President's ago, we could have gotten you in as an escourt. You're certainly attractive enough." That's a compliment— not saying she looks like a harlot. Though she wasn't very modest when they first met, either.
"They're security is getting better, yes, and we no longer have the inside man that we once did." That had, no doubt, been the source of all the intel they fed her.
"Well, no security will be enough once the President isn't exactly himself anymore, hm? That's the ultimate man-inside job." And a task ideally suited to her particular abilities. She's had the run-down on the info that they do know about this particular leader of the free world; daily schedule, life story, education, family…pretty much anything he'd have to make known to get elected, and then some. There's been plenty of time for her to study what they've provided, as well.
The young woman who could be President also knows a bit about why he's in town. "Communicating shouldn't be a problem once you're settled, because you should know all the numbers, and we'll have people in the conference, people that are high enough security clearance to talk to you," Fariq explains. The conference? The United Nations Convention Against Terrorism.
Irony knows no bounds. At least, like all presidents, she has a speech writer and teleprompters. And even if she says something stupid, it'll just get mocked on Auto Tune the News, and not actually be much of a problem.
Not to mention the super-safety net of blaming any sort of flustered speech on the swarms of protesters. "Right, and from there, it shouldn't be too much of a problem to start…moving the pieces around. Swapping out the existing detail for some new faces. For the President's safety, of course. Since there is clearly a security breach somewhere among the people with which he currently surrounds himself!"
Oh, the irony is not lost at all on her. It's rather delicious, truth be told. Maybe that's why she's smiling from ear to ear as she strolls along with the polished-looking gentleman beside her. "Question is, when does the bracelet come off? Still afraid I'll bolt?"
"Obviously," Fariq says with a tug on the corner of his mouth, looking at the tall and attractive blonde woman once, before politely looking away toward the crowd, the signs of protesting. Is that the President looking like Hitler? Oh, if only they knew…
Her ability would be exactly why they chose her for this, no one else could really do it. A shapeshifter could pull it off, but then they'd have to keep the real President, or dispose of him. This way…
"Well, you'll be free of it once you shake the President's hand." And it's true, she would be.
"Oh yes…freedom. Unlimited…freedom." The signs make her smile. The President as Hitler. The President with the sickle and hammer. The President with a turban and AK-47. The President and Osama bin Laden. You name it, and someone in this crowd seems to have thought of it and put it on a poster board, attached it to a stick, and brought it here on their shoulder.
"So, what do you say we excuse ourselves from this crowd for a breath of fresh air…leave these people to their soon-to-be-justified delusions?" Maybe get a smoke, a drink to calm their nerves before the tempo picks up, that goes without saying.
And yet, they don't have a picture of the President in a blonde wig and a scale covered party dress?
They probably should.
Fariq nods at her words, that hint of a smile still there, as he leads the way across campus towards one of the more comfortable areas, the library. Never hurts to sit in comfortable reading chairs while waiting to gain possession of one of the most powerful titles on the planet.