Predicament

Restless, Fitz paces back and forth, in the main facility of the fort. All of this chaos is still a bit much for him to grasp...and to think that he's a president, and is supposed to be used to that sort of shit.

At least Eisenhower and Reagan never actually had to authorize a nuclear attack, in the midst of any chaos that did nearly consume their careers...even if Reagan was almost assassinated...

Ophir sits in an armchair, clad in amazon attire, seemingly nervous. Fitz keeps marching past her, as he paces...

"I'm really sorry about this, President Grant," she admits. "I didn't mean for it to get this out-of-hand."

Fitz smiles, and scoffs. "Yes you did."

She smiles, and sighs. "Yes I did."

"It's okay," Fitz admits. "Lucky for you, I know what it's like to have a secret lover. It's also an assurance for us, at least, to know that two rival federations have something in common in their respective administrators' mansions, if not their populations. Even so, you're not why I'm restless. And neither is your Elias...as jealous of him as I should be."

Ophir smiles, and flaps her hair. "Really?"

"PLEASE don't tempt me. This is NOT a good time for me to think about sex. My career is at stake. I need something to tell the press when I come out of hiding. And I can't stay here if I'm not in any actual danger. If I have to tell the press the truth, then I'll go down in the history of the NAU's right-wing administrators as the Boy Who Ran from the Witches of Oz Who Cried Wolf."

Ophir arches her brows. "THAT'S a first. But it's actually not that bad..."

Fitz whirls, and gives her a stern look.

"But," she admits, "it also sounds like something that you're highly unlikely to find in a history book about NAU presidents."

Fitz keeps pacing.

"Look," Ophir adds, "if you want me to, I can ask my Sisterhood to come up with a cover story..."

"Thanks," Fitz tells her, cutting her off. "No offense, though, but you're not NAU. And most of my voters are VERY patriotic...and a bit racist. Most of them don't even seem to care that your race wrote part of the Bible."

"Of course. I know what that's like. Most Israelis are conservative, too." She pauses. "I'm not. I'm from Tel-Aviv." She loosens her amazon blouse, and smiles, kinkily. "NOBODY'S conservative, there..."

"Ah, well," Fitz smirks, "thanks for telling me that now."

Ophir sighs. "Sorry. It's just...not the kind of info that leads to a second date, if I disclose it on the first one."

"I thought you said you were from Tel-Aviv."

She scoffs. "We're foreign, not alien. Talking about politics over there is dangerous, too. In fact, it might actually be more dangerous over there than it is here. Here, they just do it with red and blue signs, and marches. Over there, they do it with rifles, and tanks, and..."

"My wife watches the news, in case you've forgotten."

She scoffs. "How could I forget? I'm so sorry you have to put up with Aaron O'Reilly every morning, before you go to work."

"Me too. At least this stay at this fort has given me a break from that, if nothing else. I should probably watch it, but... I sure miss Bill O'Reilly."

"Yeah, a lot of PMs over in Afroasia like him, too. It's as if they can't even tell he's not Hebrew...or Jewish. They even like Glenn Beck."

Fitz keeps pacing. "We need a cover story, and fast. Or rather, I need a cover story. At this stage, I'm honestly shocked that you and your sisterhood, or whatever you call yourselves, haven't gone back to Afroasia, now that you and your little man's erotic adventures won't be half as steamy when I know what you're up to."

"I'm partly responsible for this crisis. My sisterhood and I won't leave until it's resolved."

Fitz scoffs. "You know, it's funny. This is the kind of problem Liv always solves. And now my Liv is just as impotent as your Elias."

Ophir half-smiles. "I can't say I know your Liv very well, President Grant II. But one thing that I have sensed is that, small or normal-sized, she is NO weakling."