2010-10-19: Tear Down the Wall

Starring:

George_V5icon.pngEvette_V5icon.png

Date: October 19, 2010

Summary:

Evette cajoles her boss to let his guard down in private, only to get it turned around on her.


"Tear Down the Wall"

Hillsboro, TX

"Oh, empty and humid. What else is new, right?" George switches the phone to the other side, listening and nodding for a moment as he stares out across an expanse of near-featureless highway. "We're still about a half hour out from anything larger than a gas station. How're things on the home front, are they hanging me in effigy yet?"

Evette stretches her legs out before her. How can it be humid in October? Isn't that against the law or something? She turns to look at him and lifts a brow. The inquiry to whom he's speaking of course. Then she stretches again. It feels as if she's been couped up forever.

Evette's gaze is met with a Look (tm). Multitasking is something George gets paid to do, this is supposed to be break time, right? At least the flat terrain means that the familiar glow of streetlights is already visible up ahead in the distance, even if there are a lot fewer of them than New York. "Yeah, well, same to him. What about you, are they trying to get you back on double shifts again?"

Evette sighs a bit as the landscape moves by. However, she's content not to interrupt. There is a light drumming of her fingers upont he the side of the car. Then she starts to sing under her breath. "Fever in the morning. Fever all through the night. Feeeever when you touch me. Fever when you hold me tight." Sadly, it's just the song that humidity brings. In fact, the darling of the public relations realm giggles to herself at that.

The call continues in a similar vein for a few minutes— until it abruptly cuts out, and George sets his phone down after squinting at the screen. "Must've hit a dead zone on the other end," he says, returning his attention to Evette at last. "Which song is that? I think my dad might have it in his record collection."

Evette looks over towards the man blankly. It is almost like she's forgotten she was singing. "OH! It was Fever.. I don't know by Peggy Lee or something like that. I'm sure it was all scandalous back in the day." Her lips curve upwards to that. "In his record collection? Are you calling me old or just my music outdated?"

He blinks once. "I can't call you old, you're— what, five years younger than me?" Try ten or eleven, George. "And I think he's got a version of it, it's one of those ones that everyone and their uncle does a cover of. If it's the one I think it is. Didn't they do it on the Muppet Show once?"

Evette stares at him for a full three seconds of horror before she laughs. "Wow.. just.. wow. I hope they didn't do it on the Muppet Show. I mean fever when you touch me? Wow, George." Eve gives a light chuckle to that. "We could have you sing it. That would be rather fun." Her eyes study him for a few moments. "Yep, five years younger." She's not going to argue with the boss over things like that, even if he soon won't be the boss. There is a slight downward curve to her lips at that.

"Hey, they got a lot of crap past the radar back then," replies George, shaking his head and leaning back in his seat. "And no, not unless your idea of 'fun' is having people throw beer bottles at you. Without a chicken wire fence. Believe me, I know just enough about singing to know exactly how bad I am at it."

"Well to be fair. It would be them throwing them at you. Besides, couldn't you accidently have a night where you hit all the right notes and sang amazingly?" Evette's blue eyes flash with humor as she slides a bit closer to him. She hums a bit of the song before she looks him over for a few moments. Her eyes perhaps trying to figure out what he sings in the shower.

That suggestion just gets a roll of George's eyes in response. "I'm lucky, not a miracle worker. If I was, then we would've led off with that back during the primary." Abruptly, he looks a little impish himself. "Now if we got you together with a microphone, on the other hand…"

Evette blinks a few times to that. "Me?!" Eve doesn't seem to know how to take that as she watches him. Suddenly her lips curve upwards with a wicked gleam in her eyes. She scoots even closer. "Now.. George.." She drops her voice to a seductive purr. They both know will have no reaction on him. "We could wager. I would be happy to sing poor music, if you were willing to do something equally embarassing for me."

Oh, it has some reaction, if instinctively putting up a familiar emotional wall counts as a reaction. "I'm willing to entertain suggestions," offers George, carefully declining to make any promises. This is the sort of thing that could haunt him well past the end of her contract, depending on what she picks.

Evette watches those bricks fall into place, one by one. It is as if she can watch him crafting it around him by the familiar wall that is constructed. "Why do you do that? We have worked together for a bit of time. So why do you withdraw so into yourself when I react in certain manners?"

"Honestly?" George glances out the window, eyes automatically tracking the scenery even as his thoughts remain elsewhere. "Because luck has a habit of snapping back after a while. The one time I decided to play along would be the one time that— well. Any of a hundred things, none of them any good."

"What fun is life if you always live behind regulated walls?" So says the woman of scheduling and rules and lines and schedules. Evette watches him, but not with predatory eyes, more like one that wants to pull out the inside of his brain to examine it. "What is the worst that could happen, George?"

The irony is not lost on George, and neither is Evette's figurative lifting up a rock so she can see what's crawling around underneath. He gets a lot of that in the course of his job— maybe it's part of what got her interested in the first place. "Off the top of my head, Michelle could walk in on it. Or my parents… It's a toss-up which one would be worse."

Evette tips her head to one side in a show of confusion. "They could walk in on you singing? I'm sure they've heard you sing in the shower." There is a teasing curve to her lips as she attempts to bump her shoulder into his. "We could play the no walls game. I'll drop mine if you drop yours."

George considers the suggestion, then nods. "Fair enough." Well, if it's a game, then he starts right off with a fastball. "So where the hell is your social life, anyway?" Not counting that one night she got hammered with the guys working the front desk. "I mean, you must have something more interesting going on than pretending to flirt with your boss, right? And don't give me that 'I'm a terrible date' line, I'm not buying it— everyone's a terrible date for someone, so that's not actually saying anything."

Damn he doesn't pull any punches does he? Evette's jaw actually unhinges a bit. One does not need to be a telepath to see that she's about to recant her offer to play. A breath is taken and she nods her head. "I don't really have one. I'm not good with men in a social way. It is letting your guard down too much to put yourself out there. I um.. don't like to fail. So it is better to accept the status quo and not shake the boat. Besides, I find most the men I am attracted to are taken or just bad news." She studies him for a moment. "So… why do you always close down around me? Do I offend you or do you just not like me?"

"Well, no one likes to fail, but it comes with the territory. As long as you're tearing down walls, you should give it a shot— maybe things have chnaged over the past few years." And maybe you'll quit flirting with me just because you know it's safe, George thinks. Speaking of… "And I always close down when someone's fishing too hard for a reaction, just instinct— a form of ''stop doing that, it's annoying''. I don't close down when we actually get down to business—"

"George, you are really the only guy that I spend any amount of time with." Evette takes a breath and then puts some space between them. Her eyes move to watch the scenery as it goes by. "I don't know. Some people just aren't meant for others. I tend to be a workaholic as it is."

"I know the feeling. I was like— well, I still am like that, but I was worse about it when I first got started." At least George managed to back away from the habit enough to hire her. "As long as you stop short of burning out, all right? That wouldn't do any of us any good."

"You only have me until you are elected. Then you don't have to worry about my burn out." Evette offers as she looks back to smile at him. There is a tip of her head. "I trust you'll keep what you know about me, a secret? I don't really want anyone knowing that I can mess around with their minds."

George scratches his head. "Well, obviously I'm not going to tell the general public any time soon. Others, in private— well, if there was ever a situation where I needed to, then I'd bring you in on it up front." There was a federal crackdown and attempted coup last year, there could be something else down the line. "What have you got lined up next?"

Evette shakes her head. "I haven't really lined anything up. I don't know.. maybe I'll go work for another campaign. Interesting thing about politics, they don't ever rest. Or maybe I'll go back to California." She lifts her shoulders to that. "I have to think about your election. I'll think of myself after that. What about you? What are you going to do next?"

His tone is nice and dry. "Interesting thing about politics, they don't ever rest. Assuming we win, it'll be right back into the usual cycle. If things go south at the last minute and— well. Figure that out if it happens."

"You should look into getting someone more permenant on your staff." Evette's lips curve into an indulgent sort of manner. "Of course, you should make sure that you like them." She turns and smiles. "You'll have more down time to focus on your social life."

George shrugs. "I've been thinking about it, but… when it comes to day-to-day events, it's harder to separate the PR from the job itself. I mean, half the job basically is a type of PR. It's easier with you because the campaign's a separate beast." And if he's calling their working relationship easy in comparison, then that's saying something.

Evette arches her brows to that. "I'm sorry.. so you are saying that you are better at then someone that has a degree in it?" She gives a full throaty laugh to that. "You are rather full of yourself, George Dear."

"Not flat-out, no," says George, leaning over to fiddle with the air conditioner as an eighteen-wheeler pulls in front of them. "Just that it seems simpler to take care of it myself than have to coordinate with someone else all the time. I mean, there's staff to field phone calls and confirm appointments, but they don't have to really make any decisions about any of it."

Evette watches the eighteen-wheeler. Out of reflex, she grabs his hand to stop him. They probably have a driver since he was on the phone and such. It is just a reactionary move when one sees a big truck merging over. "You'll figure it out."

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