Khemrys (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
homeless_pard) wrote2025-03-15 01:57 am
homeless_pard) wrote2025-03-15 01:57 am
Entry tags:
There's a term for this.
Who: Khem, her security detail, a better network.
When: eight months after Jason's incarceration.
What: A far more important interview.
Khem sighed, taking Connor's hand out of the car and trying not to just feel...tired. She had to be on point tonight. She had to be easy to talk to, charming, and yet intelligent. Unlike her previous appearance this was an in-depth interview likely to be rather harsh given her last interview. After all she had made an enemy, and such would often give ammunition to others.
"Are you alright?" Connor asked, worried, as he squeezed her hand.
She smiled calmly, a default expression which probably was not in the least reassuring? "Of course. I am merely exhausted. I have not seen my husband in eight months, and here are yet more people who wish to convince me that it is awful to desire his presence."
Connor winced, nodding two younger rats ahead to clear the hall in studio ahead, "I know. Closer though? You are wearing down the people at the facility..."
"And so this is why tonight might be dangerous," she admitted. "They will attempt to either cast me as also to be shunned in this world, or deluded..."
He winced, not liking that in the least but, well, "are we still going in?"
"Of course," she smiled softly. "I am no fool, nor am I afraid of such as they cater to. Threat will always come, but I am not alone."
Ah, this damn woman. He chuckled and nodded, "exactly. You're terrifying Mrs. Khemrys."
"Hardly," Khem sighed. "But I appreciate the sentiment."
"Ah, Mrs. Schuyler?" Tyler smiled, hands fidgeting with a clipboard.
She froze a moment, then looked over, eyes heavy and firm, "Ah, aide Tyler?"
"I...got a better offer?" he admitted sheepishly. "So I work here now. I'm sorry I swear it's not creepy!" He knew how this might look! Yeeeah. "Your dressing room is this way..."
"Lead on," Connor noted, making sure Khem was shielded behind him properly. JUST IN CASE! After all, obsession was nothing new in their lives.
Khemrys kept a hand gently on Connor's back to assure him she was following properly, then gave the poor aide a smile when she was ushered through the indicated door, "I hear this is a longer interview, Tyler."
"Oh, yes!" Tyler nodded, back against the wall across from the dressing room, "this is a legit place you know? So there's hard questions but not seriously asshole questions and...oh, hell, I shouldn't say asshole...ah..." FUCK.
Khemrys laughed softly, and Connor snickered, "it's alright kid," the bodyguard offered. "We appreciate the evaluation."
"I'm...rooting for you?" Tyler offered. "It's bullshit, this whole thing. I hope no one convinces you otherwise!"
That made her smile grow, "of course young Tyler. I agree, and I always welcome allies in my beliefs. The world is a cruel one and we must change it."
Tyler found himself nodding helplessly, "yeah!"
Connor slowly closed the door then grinned at the leopard he escorted, "you have a convert Khem."
Khem settled at the dressing table and flushed slightly, "truth is oft refreshing." And she spoke nothing but?
"Yeah, but, I think it's the young man needing a cause headed by a pretty face thing..." Connor snickered. "Anyway..."
She paled a touch, feeling regretful, "I am not...such to reward that attention?"
"Hey, it was a joke," The rat blinked. "You are the purest damn monogamist I know."
"You say as if you are not also so enswooned with your own chosen..." she teased softly.
"I AM! But I'd honestly have a lot of trouble on camera defending it..." Connor admitted.
Ah, cameras. She considered that, doing her own powder in lieu of an artist, because she was....her. Why was she so comfortable? she wasn't. Far from. "Something far greater than us took my sworn lord," she admitted softly. "To retrieve him will take reaching beyond that which I know. You wouldst do the same," she assured.
"Don't say that," he snorted as Tyler knocked on the door again. "Show time dear."
She stood and soothed her hands down her skirt, smiling, "how do I look?"
"Captivating," Connor assured. "Like old cinema brought to life. People can't help watching you."
"Good," she nodded, sweeping through the door.
Tyler led the way to the stage edge, smiling and pressing a water bottle into her hand, "this is a sixty minute live feed without commercial. So watch your language, nothing is delayed okay?"
Khem touched the boy's shoulder gently and nodded, "my thanks." Then she was sweeping on to the lighted stage like a star would the red carpet. Grace, magnetism, and contained energy as she settled on her couch without being asked by the host. This was a well known network, with a 'well established, neutral host' which meant it was serious and well watched by those who wished information according to her high lord.
The host was still a tall, firm looking man older than her by far. "Welcome Mrs. Schuyler."
"Thank your Mr. Handas." she allowed graciously.
"I'm sure you know why you're here," he smiled. "You're making waves, as most my guests do. But in this case I have to ask...are these waves you should make?"
She arched an eyebrow, seemingly amused, "my dear host," she smiled, "being calm waters will not return my husband to me."
"Ah yes, your husband," he invited, "a dancer, yes? And father of two?"
She laughed softly, her trill far more musical than the host's, oddly. "Yes. He is a dancer, and he is rather skilled at such. And the twins miss him dearly, but the facility does not allow 'family' visits. Instead an individual must apply each day and hope that they are allowed. An event that has yet to happen."
The host nodded, looking concerned, "you seem to be spearheading an attempt to reach those in such facilities?"
She eyed him, calm and unassailable, "no. I am merely speaking louder it seems. Do you believe no one asks after the souls locked away in such facilities?"
The host blinked, "well, it is not exactly a loud event if they have?"
Khem smiled, "ah, so, intimidation is the same as not objecting?" she asked easily.
"You understand these facilities exist to help and possibly cure, people?" the host offered, leaning forward.
Ah, straight into it it was! She relaxed, seemingly unphased, "so they say and you accept without question," she offered simply. Odd that a curious sort such as this man would say such? "And yet not a single person has ever been released from these facilities. They are life sentences, for everyone, civilian, accidental, and criminal alike. We did supply the data to you well before my arrival, I am surprised you did not review it."
"Data is easily skewed, ma'am."
"Yes, hence supplying every single source and how you might confirm such numbers," she allowed kindly. "These facilities take a jail model and simply shift the language to ensure they are not subject to the rules that apply to such. They are black sites, lacking in oversight and accounting because you, and those watching...feel safer when they might hate people."
"Hate is a strong term to apply here..."
"But accurate," she cut him off mercilessly. "The cruelty of this country is terrifying. People taken from families. People taken by accident. PEOPLE. There are those who prefer to forget that those who have the shifting virus are, still, people. Prefer to think that human rights do not apply to them."
The host swallowed, narrowing his eyes, "there isn't any other type of infection that makes a man go home and eat their family."
"Nor does this one," she flashed teeth slightly. "The idea that shifters are automatically cannibals, especially of those they care for, is quite abhorent. Had I known you gave credence to urban legends I would not have attended your witch hunt." Certainly.
The host sighed, "even barring that, shifters have a great deal of strength, so a bad day and they go home and break bones..."
She snorted, leaning forward, "you are a fool to say such," she noted soberly. BY FAR. "Are you not?"
He leaned back, eyes wide, "what are you intimating?"
She chuckled, "do you not recall your expose on domestic violence?" she offered, amused. Not the man's OWN well buried lawsuits for such hmmm? Not at all.
"Ah, yes, of course..." he sighed. "And yet, you know that shifters have more tendency toward such violence. So rallying people to free them is rather..."
"Actually," she drawled softly, "the shifters I know are far more controlled. As with anyone who knows they are strong and has a community to train them into restraint have a far lower incident rate. In fact humans have a higher rating in all instances." By far.
By VERY far. "Those you know? They must be in hiding!"
"Wouldn't you be?" she countered. "When there are states where it is legal to outright MURDER suspected shifters? It is not a safe world to admit such." Not at all. "After all, my husband, who did no wrong but was arrested in an unrelated incident later shown to have a human perpetrator, is still being held hmmm?"
"Are you calling the police biased?"
She raised a hand, bemused, "hardly. I merely submit the fact that it was far to easy to frame shifters in this case. The perpetrator had dogs savage his dead victims, and so...nearly escaped. And yet my husband is still in prison." Facts. Nothing more.
"And why hasn't your husband been released?" the host asked, trying to regain footing here.
Ah, well, "because of the aforementioned manner of such sites." she pointed out simply. "They do not release people, regardless of due process. They exist to gain funds keeping 'horrors' away from society. As if isolating people from their peers creates healthy actions, or that it somehow saves people. Far from."
"Far from? It seems to me that locking infected away in quarantine is the healthy response..."
Khemrys laughed, a bitter, echoing sound, "Did you do such with aids? Bird flu?" she asked softly. "This is a world where magic is present and has effect. It denies biologic possibility, which means a purely disease oriented approach will always meet in failure here."
"But it is a disease!"
"What disease can account for the gain of extreme muscle mass and a new form?" she countered. "Or a severe reduction in those who have a smaller form? What disease is moon tied no matter any incentive or medication otherwise? Magic exists in this world and no treatment accounts for such."
The host considered that, tilting his head, "you're saying due process is flawed?"
"Any inmate, anywhere, would agree," she noted simply. "Where crime is necessary in other jails, here, it is merely a matter ill luck. Those who submit themselves to the facilities are no less policed than the transferred, actual threats. And more there is no end to sentences. To enter a facility is to die. It is just a long, lingering death, because as I said, people here are cruel and would rather see people they fear suffer than to approach such rationally."
"Now now, they do us all a service..."
She arched an eyebrow, bemused, "do they? Segregation has never ended well. Instead of admitting anyone eligible for these facility instead there should be evaluations. Do you agree that Mary who received a bad vaccine needs to be locked in close quarters with Tom the serial killer who was bit in his last run?"
"Well, no, that's..."
"...exactly what happens." No questions, no screening, no controls.
"I'm sure there's agencies that..."
"...no," she noted simply. "They are not. As I said, this is a cruel country. Once anyone has that sad addendum of 'infected' agencies cease to care and some specific places profit. Again, that data is in the supplied packet and will no doubt allow you any number of interviews."
The hosts scowled and leaned aside to demand someone provide said packet to him after the airing before looking at her again, "and what do you say to those who claim you are infected yourself? After all you married a shifter."
She snorted, "I bear no infection," she noted simply. "I am married to a man whom I care for. And I have children with said man. Children who are also not infected, but were they? I would still love them."
"I see," the host smiled, reaching back to take a box from an aide, "so, this won't be a surprise I assume? We've admired you dedication ad the studio got you this..."
She eyed said box, then gave the host a glare, "I see you are far more biased than you say," she noted simply, reaching out to take the silver necklace from the box and look it over properly. Moon metal, harmless. "How very condescending of you." She pooled the links in her hand then poured the back into the box. "I do not accept such gifts from strangers that mean me and my family ill."
The host seemed...lost after that, staring at the necklace before dropping it to the table, "you must admit that anyone would be curious."
"What you mean," she noted coolly, "is that you wish to dismiss all I have said as one of the marginalized infected." And yet here they were.
The host considered for a moment, bemused, "you must admit, it seems suicidal to accept such as your husband."
"Hardly. It is far harder to accept that you'd prefer someone who is married to a psychopathic human than one wed to an infected man who has never offered harm," she noted, approaching cold, harsh anger. "Need I elaborate about the statistics?" Given the host was among such?
"No, no, certainly not, I'm coming around..." the host promised, holding his hands up. "Rumors say you were not home on that full moon night so stories grow."
"I wasn't," she agreed simply. "Because I was escorting a professor through herbs and plants that bloomed at night that I knew. There were many people who were to tend my children so I might be away, and also submitted was the footage of my husband's arrest. Where he did. Not. Shift. Thrown to the ground, bound, and threatened without cause? And he did not shift. I ask you show you audience such."
"Ah...alright? We will run it..." the host blinked. The film crew scrambled and then yes, Jason's arrest footage followed. "What do you expect from this?"
She sighed, "I wish people to understand that the most stressful moments in this world often involve threats to one's children. So terrifying events before children, as my twins watched all of this? Did not result in shifting. Biting. Rage. Anything that the popular rhetoric says it should. It seems to me that most of what people 'expect' is wrong, and not acknowledging such is merely a desire to have a target for personal hatred." After all, shifters were humans.
"You....are a dangerously active woman. Mrs. Schuyler," the host allowed finally.
"I am a woman that does not accept rhetoric as fact," she countered. "If that is the end of your questioning I believe we are done here, as you never intended an unbiased expose as your contact claimed." By far.
"I had hoped to reason with you..."
"And I had hoped to reason in kind," she admitted simply. "I cannot waste my time on those who do not care to think and allow evaluation of new ideas. I suggest you evaluate your approach and research if you are so deeply set against hearing what your guests might say." There was certainly time left in this 'interview' but she stood and smoothed her skirt before ignoring the hosts's splutters to pace off stage.
A waste of time indeed.
"We had higher hopes here," Connor sighed, ushering her down the hall.
"Yes. I Hope others watching might research," she admitted tiredly.'
"Hey, many do," Tyler cheered. "Go, I'll interfere with anyone headed after you!" the aide smiled and moved away back toward the stage!
She chuckled, "ah, eager youths..."
When: eight months after Jason's incarceration.
What: A far more important interview.
Khem sighed, taking Connor's hand out of the car and trying not to just feel...tired. She had to be on point tonight. She had to be easy to talk to, charming, and yet intelligent. Unlike her previous appearance this was an in-depth interview likely to be rather harsh given her last interview. After all she had made an enemy, and such would often give ammunition to others.
"Are you alright?" Connor asked, worried, as he squeezed her hand.
She smiled calmly, a default expression which probably was not in the least reassuring? "Of course. I am merely exhausted. I have not seen my husband in eight months, and here are yet more people who wish to convince me that it is awful to desire his presence."
Connor winced, nodding two younger rats ahead to clear the hall in studio ahead, "I know. Closer though? You are wearing down the people at the facility..."
"And so this is why tonight might be dangerous," she admitted. "They will attempt to either cast me as also to be shunned in this world, or deluded..."
He winced, not liking that in the least but, well, "are we still going in?"
"Of course," she smiled softly. "I am no fool, nor am I afraid of such as they cater to. Threat will always come, but I am not alone."
Ah, this damn woman. He chuckled and nodded, "exactly. You're terrifying Mrs. Khemrys."
"Hardly," Khem sighed. "But I appreciate the sentiment."
"Ah, Mrs. Schuyler?" Tyler smiled, hands fidgeting with a clipboard.
She froze a moment, then looked over, eyes heavy and firm, "Ah, aide Tyler?"
"I...got a better offer?" he admitted sheepishly. "So I work here now. I'm sorry I swear it's not creepy!" He knew how this might look! Yeeeah. "Your dressing room is this way..."
"Lead on," Connor noted, making sure Khem was shielded behind him properly. JUST IN CASE! After all, obsession was nothing new in their lives.
Khemrys kept a hand gently on Connor's back to assure him she was following properly, then gave the poor aide a smile when she was ushered through the indicated door, "I hear this is a longer interview, Tyler."
"Oh, yes!" Tyler nodded, back against the wall across from the dressing room, "this is a legit place you know? So there's hard questions but not seriously asshole questions and...oh, hell, I shouldn't say asshole...ah..." FUCK.
Khemrys laughed softly, and Connor snickered, "it's alright kid," the bodyguard offered. "We appreciate the evaluation."
"I'm...rooting for you?" Tyler offered. "It's bullshit, this whole thing. I hope no one convinces you otherwise!"
That made her smile grow, "of course young Tyler. I agree, and I always welcome allies in my beliefs. The world is a cruel one and we must change it."
Tyler found himself nodding helplessly, "yeah!"
Connor slowly closed the door then grinned at the leopard he escorted, "you have a convert Khem."
Khem settled at the dressing table and flushed slightly, "truth is oft refreshing." And she spoke nothing but?
"Yeah, but, I think it's the young man needing a cause headed by a pretty face thing..." Connor snickered. "Anyway..."
She paled a touch, feeling regretful, "I am not...such to reward that attention?"
"Hey, it was a joke," The rat blinked. "You are the purest damn monogamist I know."
"You say as if you are not also so enswooned with your own chosen..." she teased softly.
"I AM! But I'd honestly have a lot of trouble on camera defending it..." Connor admitted.
Ah, cameras. She considered that, doing her own powder in lieu of an artist, because she was....her. Why was she so comfortable? she wasn't. Far from. "Something far greater than us took my sworn lord," she admitted softly. "To retrieve him will take reaching beyond that which I know. You wouldst do the same," she assured.
"Don't say that," he snorted as Tyler knocked on the door again. "Show time dear."
She stood and soothed her hands down her skirt, smiling, "how do I look?"
"Captivating," Connor assured. "Like old cinema brought to life. People can't help watching you."
"Good," she nodded, sweeping through the door.
Tyler led the way to the stage edge, smiling and pressing a water bottle into her hand, "this is a sixty minute live feed without commercial. So watch your language, nothing is delayed okay?"
Khem touched the boy's shoulder gently and nodded, "my thanks." Then she was sweeping on to the lighted stage like a star would the red carpet. Grace, magnetism, and contained energy as she settled on her couch without being asked by the host. This was a well known network, with a 'well established, neutral host' which meant it was serious and well watched by those who wished information according to her high lord.
The host was still a tall, firm looking man older than her by far. "Welcome Mrs. Schuyler."
"Thank your Mr. Handas." she allowed graciously.
"I'm sure you know why you're here," he smiled. "You're making waves, as most my guests do. But in this case I have to ask...are these waves you should make?"
She arched an eyebrow, seemingly amused, "my dear host," she smiled, "being calm waters will not return my husband to me."
"Ah yes, your husband," he invited, "a dancer, yes? And father of two?"
She laughed softly, her trill far more musical than the host's, oddly. "Yes. He is a dancer, and he is rather skilled at such. And the twins miss him dearly, but the facility does not allow 'family' visits. Instead an individual must apply each day and hope that they are allowed. An event that has yet to happen."
The host nodded, looking concerned, "you seem to be spearheading an attempt to reach those in such facilities?"
She eyed him, calm and unassailable, "no. I am merely speaking louder it seems. Do you believe no one asks after the souls locked away in such facilities?"
The host blinked, "well, it is not exactly a loud event if they have?"
Khem smiled, "ah, so, intimidation is the same as not objecting?" she asked easily.
"You understand these facilities exist to help and possibly cure, people?" the host offered, leaning forward.
Ah, straight into it it was! She relaxed, seemingly unphased, "so they say and you accept without question," she offered simply. Odd that a curious sort such as this man would say such? "And yet not a single person has ever been released from these facilities. They are life sentences, for everyone, civilian, accidental, and criminal alike. We did supply the data to you well before my arrival, I am surprised you did not review it."
"Data is easily skewed, ma'am."
"Yes, hence supplying every single source and how you might confirm such numbers," she allowed kindly. "These facilities take a jail model and simply shift the language to ensure they are not subject to the rules that apply to such. They are black sites, lacking in oversight and accounting because you, and those watching...feel safer when they might hate people."
"Hate is a strong term to apply here..."
"But accurate," she cut him off mercilessly. "The cruelty of this country is terrifying. People taken from families. People taken by accident. PEOPLE. There are those who prefer to forget that those who have the shifting virus are, still, people. Prefer to think that human rights do not apply to them."
The host swallowed, narrowing his eyes, "there isn't any other type of infection that makes a man go home and eat their family."
"Nor does this one," she flashed teeth slightly. "The idea that shifters are automatically cannibals, especially of those they care for, is quite abhorent. Had I known you gave credence to urban legends I would not have attended your witch hunt." Certainly.
The host sighed, "even barring that, shifters have a great deal of strength, so a bad day and they go home and break bones..."
She snorted, leaning forward, "you are a fool to say such," she noted soberly. BY FAR. "Are you not?"
He leaned back, eyes wide, "what are you intimating?"
She chuckled, "do you not recall your expose on domestic violence?" she offered, amused. Not the man's OWN well buried lawsuits for such hmmm? Not at all.
"Ah, yes, of course..." he sighed. "And yet, you know that shifters have more tendency toward such violence. So rallying people to free them is rather..."
"Actually," she drawled softly, "the shifters I know are far more controlled. As with anyone who knows they are strong and has a community to train them into restraint have a far lower incident rate. In fact humans have a higher rating in all instances." By far.
By VERY far. "Those you know? They must be in hiding!"
"Wouldn't you be?" she countered. "When there are states where it is legal to outright MURDER suspected shifters? It is not a safe world to admit such." Not at all. "After all, my husband, who did no wrong but was arrested in an unrelated incident later shown to have a human perpetrator, is still being held hmmm?"
"Are you calling the police biased?"
She raised a hand, bemused, "hardly. I merely submit the fact that it was far to easy to frame shifters in this case. The perpetrator had dogs savage his dead victims, and so...nearly escaped. And yet my husband is still in prison." Facts. Nothing more.
"And why hasn't your husband been released?" the host asked, trying to regain footing here.
Ah, well, "because of the aforementioned manner of such sites." she pointed out simply. "They do not release people, regardless of due process. They exist to gain funds keeping 'horrors' away from society. As if isolating people from their peers creates healthy actions, or that it somehow saves people. Far from."
"Far from? It seems to me that locking infected away in quarantine is the healthy response..."
Khemrys laughed, a bitter, echoing sound, "Did you do such with aids? Bird flu?" she asked softly. "This is a world where magic is present and has effect. It denies biologic possibility, which means a purely disease oriented approach will always meet in failure here."
"But it is a disease!"
"What disease can account for the gain of extreme muscle mass and a new form?" she countered. "Or a severe reduction in those who have a smaller form? What disease is moon tied no matter any incentive or medication otherwise? Magic exists in this world and no treatment accounts for such."
The host considered that, tilting his head, "you're saying due process is flawed?"
"Any inmate, anywhere, would agree," she noted simply. "Where crime is necessary in other jails, here, it is merely a matter ill luck. Those who submit themselves to the facilities are no less policed than the transferred, actual threats. And more there is no end to sentences. To enter a facility is to die. It is just a long, lingering death, because as I said, people here are cruel and would rather see people they fear suffer than to approach such rationally."
"Now now, they do us all a service..."
She arched an eyebrow, bemused, "do they? Segregation has never ended well. Instead of admitting anyone eligible for these facility instead there should be evaluations. Do you agree that Mary who received a bad vaccine needs to be locked in close quarters with Tom the serial killer who was bit in his last run?"
"Well, no, that's..."
"...exactly what happens." No questions, no screening, no controls.
"I'm sure there's agencies that..."
"...no," she noted simply. "They are not. As I said, this is a cruel country. Once anyone has that sad addendum of 'infected' agencies cease to care and some specific places profit. Again, that data is in the supplied packet and will no doubt allow you any number of interviews."
The hosts scowled and leaned aside to demand someone provide said packet to him after the airing before looking at her again, "and what do you say to those who claim you are infected yourself? After all you married a shifter."
She snorted, "I bear no infection," she noted simply. "I am married to a man whom I care for. And I have children with said man. Children who are also not infected, but were they? I would still love them."
"I see," the host smiled, reaching back to take a box from an aide, "so, this won't be a surprise I assume? We've admired you dedication ad the studio got you this..."
She eyed said box, then gave the host a glare, "I see you are far more biased than you say," she noted simply, reaching out to take the silver necklace from the box and look it over properly. Moon metal, harmless. "How very condescending of you." She pooled the links in her hand then poured the back into the box. "I do not accept such gifts from strangers that mean me and my family ill."
The host seemed...lost after that, staring at the necklace before dropping it to the table, "you must admit that anyone would be curious."
"What you mean," she noted coolly, "is that you wish to dismiss all I have said as one of the marginalized infected." And yet here they were.
The host considered for a moment, bemused, "you must admit, it seems suicidal to accept such as your husband."
"Hardly. It is far harder to accept that you'd prefer someone who is married to a psychopathic human than one wed to an infected man who has never offered harm," she noted, approaching cold, harsh anger. "Need I elaborate about the statistics?" Given the host was among such?
"No, no, certainly not, I'm coming around..." the host promised, holding his hands up. "Rumors say you were not home on that full moon night so stories grow."
"I wasn't," she agreed simply. "Because I was escorting a professor through herbs and plants that bloomed at night that I knew. There were many people who were to tend my children so I might be away, and also submitted was the footage of my husband's arrest. Where he did. Not. Shift. Thrown to the ground, bound, and threatened without cause? And he did not shift. I ask you show you audience such."
"Ah...alright? We will run it..." the host blinked. The film crew scrambled and then yes, Jason's arrest footage followed. "What do you expect from this?"
She sighed, "I wish people to understand that the most stressful moments in this world often involve threats to one's children. So terrifying events before children, as my twins watched all of this? Did not result in shifting. Biting. Rage. Anything that the popular rhetoric says it should. It seems to me that most of what people 'expect' is wrong, and not acknowledging such is merely a desire to have a target for personal hatred." After all, shifters were humans.
"You....are a dangerously active woman. Mrs. Schuyler," the host allowed finally.
"I am a woman that does not accept rhetoric as fact," she countered. "If that is the end of your questioning I believe we are done here, as you never intended an unbiased expose as your contact claimed." By far.
"I had hoped to reason with you..."
"And I had hoped to reason in kind," she admitted simply. "I cannot waste my time on those who do not care to think and allow evaluation of new ideas. I suggest you evaluate your approach and research if you are so deeply set against hearing what your guests might say." There was certainly time left in this 'interview' but she stood and smoothed her skirt before ignoring the hosts's splutters to pace off stage.
A waste of time indeed.
"We had higher hopes here," Connor sighed, ushering her down the hall.
"Yes. I Hope others watching might research," she admitted tiredly.'
"Hey, many do," Tyler cheered. "Go, I'll interfere with anyone headed after you!" the aide smiled and moved away back toward the stage!
She chuckled, "ah, eager youths..."