Dormer hated these kinds of bars. Lobbyists, pollsters, wannabes and chancers. The very worst DC had to offer. But unfortunately it was where the work does get done.

He cleaned his horn rimmed glasses and wiped an imperceptible speck of dust off of his suit trouser. He was not a man to look anything other than perfect.That just would not do.

He looked over at the view of The Hill through the large plate glass window which constituted one wall of the bar. Of course they had to have the view, he thought to himself, as he straightened the napkin in front of him.

He observed the coterie of political wonks scattered across the place, suited, coiffured and almost entirely without any real power. But I suppose that’s why they were here, to try to leech some off those who did have it.

That’s why the staffers and the assistants and the Senators and the like came here. For a taste of minor celebrity. To be loved and have egos massaged. 

Three people had already approached him tonight but he gave them short shrift. He was not here to feel better about himself. At least not tonight anyway.

Coborn wafted in as gracefully as ever, handing her coat over to one member of staff and being escorted to his table by another. She does have the air of a faded movie star about her, he thought, perhaps that’s why she polls so well.

The waiter helped her into her chair and she thanked him as he left, finally turning to face her companion for the evening. 

Dormer placed his glasses back on his face and greeted her,  “Well done this evening. You do come across rather well on television.”

Coborn smiled at him warmly, “Women tend to on those shows. It’s ‘cos their not trying to dickslap each other in front of a paying public.”

Dormer creased his forehead in his discomfort at her vulgarity, Coborn’s smile widened some, he was so well controlled usually, she did love to watch him squirm.

She decided to let him off the hook eventually, “How’s things at the big house?” 

Dormer shrugged as he took a drink from his glass of water, “Ticking along. The President’s finding his feet.”

“No major fuck ups yet.”

“The key word being yet.” Dormer picked up the bottle of red sat between them, and began pouring some for his guest.

Coborn held out her hand to stop him, “I’m not drinking.”

Dormer looked at her, eyebrow raised, bottle still very much in hand. “Neither am I.”

He continued pouring from the bottle and Coborn took a closer look at the liquid coming out of it, slightly thicker than normal, pouring differently from wine.

She was impressed with the ingenuity. “How long have you been putting plas in old wine bottles?”

Dormer smiled as he finished filling her glass, “Oh quite a few years now. Helps everyone to feel a touch more comfortable.”

Typical Dormer, thought Coborn, elegant solutions to thorny issues.

She seized her chance “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about actually.”

“Making people more comfortable?”

Coborn didn’t really listen to his response, she had this planned and was now underway, “So we run the free plas scheme in Boston, and it runs great.”

“Not exactly a vote winner.”

“It is among certain communities.”

“Certain, smaller communities.” Dormer’s mood had become a touch colder than before, he hated nothing more than people stomping across ideological grounds rather than practical.

“Look it works, alright. It gets young v’s a nutritional boost in school.”

Dormer wrinkled his nose at the term, “do we have to say v’s, it’s so…”

“What would you prefer? Homo-empusa? Incubi? Our esteemed colleagues?”

“Why do we have to be anything at all? Why can’t we just be humans?”

“Because we have different needs. And if we don’t provide for those needs Sapiens sure as Hell won’t.”

Begrudgingly Dormer backed down, she had a point, even if it was an unpalatable one.

Coborn continued, “We need different nutrition and while they’re scared we’ll fuck them out of existence or bleed them out we need to show we can get that nutrition and not destroy the world, and that’s what’s happening in Massachusetts.”

“It gets Sapiens all fired up that we’re not providing for them.”

“I’m not doing this to win votes.”

“Then you really have picked the wrong line of work.”

“Hear me out”, Coborn was beginning to hit her stride now, her pure passion for the argument she was making beginning to crack through the polished exterior she had worked so hard upon, “I want the free plas scheme in Boston to take the next step. So right now we give the v kids the synthed plas and they grow and they learn better, we have data to back that up.”

“Yeah, that’ll really get the guys worried we’re going to destroy their species on board.”

“But no matter how good the synth plas has become, it does not give them the full nutrition that human blood would.”

Dormer locked eyes with Coborn, she doesn’t mean what I think she means, right?

Coborn sensed his recoiling, “Hear me out.”

“Why? So I can hear the stupidest suicide note in political history?”

“There is blood, lots of blood-”

“You're not going to get Sapiens to give their blood to baby vampires over wounded soldiers or car crash victims Anna.”

“We don’t need to, we don’t need to.” She could see Dormer’s interest in the conversation dwindling with each passing second, she had to drive on before he found the idea completely unpalatable, “Blood donations are screened for Sapien use, ok? Hep B, C, Malaria, all of that. Anything with a hint of it is not passed fit for Sapien use. V’s aren’t affected by these diseases.”

Dormer’s face was expressionless to the point of paralysis. Coborn tried to gauge whether this had a hope or whether Dormer would never speak to her again.

Dormer stared coldly at her. “Are you high?”

“Stop being an asshole and listen. It’s blood that’s going to be thrown away, why not put it to better use?”

“Because some of us need to win elections in two years.”

“And what about doing good?”

“You can’t do much good if you aren’t in power.”

“It’s a good idea, with your clout it’ll get passed.”

“The Massachusetts House of Representatives is vampire run and a nightmare Anna, you know this. Corrupt. Accusations of preferential treatment for their kind. A dumpster fire. You try to do this, it’ll get lumped in with all that, guaranteed.”

“Vampire run? Yes? A dumpster fire, yes? Run by democrats? Also yes. I’m clean of all that, we’ll be the good guys here.”

“Makes a change.”

Coborn could feel a thawing towards the idea from across the table, her flagging hope of getting his help flickered slightly as he pondered. She tried to nudge the scales in her favour.

“Come on, I know you’re all high and mighty now but pop back to your stomping ground and help your people.”

“My people?”

“Bostonians.”

Again the silence fell between them, Dormer calculating, weighing possibilities. Eventually he spoke, “Do you know how much the synth blood market’s worth? 60 billion a year. 60 billion. Imagine what those taxes could do for your malnourished children.”

“That’s a discussion for a different time Tiho. So, will you back me?” Coborn tried to remain calm but her heart was beating fast, with Dormer on board she had a real chance of getting it passed, without, not so much.

“Why not?” Dormer rarely gave anything away but Coborn was sure she saw the merest twinkle of excitement buried deep in the back of his eyes.”

Coborn felt the wave of relief and renewed hope pulse through her as her colleague took a drink from the glass of synth in front of him. 

Dormer again looked at the view of the Hill, this time wistfully, “You see this is the problem with state education. At Phillips Exeter we were actively encouraged to drink from the boys in the year below. Built character.”

Coborn tried to read the smile that slowly crept across his face. She never could tell if he was joking or not.