"What the hell?"

The speaker is a dark-haired woman, who looks to be somewhere between thirty-five and fifty: tall, thin, elegant. She's well-dressed, wearing sensible low-heeled shoes and a thunderous scowl, and she storms into the Mansion mid-tirade.

"A little fucking peace, my God! Never mind this is the worst bloody possible time, dammit, I ( Read more... )

A sturdy man, middle aged, strides down a gravel path in the gardens, eyes more on the open folder he’s carrying than on his surroundings.

He’s complaining to himself.

Loudly.

“Of all the political bullshit,” he says furiously, “I will not undercut - impossible, self centered, short sighted - Why can’t I have one week ( Read more... )