Work Text:
[Video is slightly shaky and shot vertically over the heads of a large crowd. Ioder Heurassein is initially washed out by the lights, but the lens refocuses to sharpen his image. He’s holding up his hand to quiet the murmuring crowd.
Ioder brings the microphone to his mouth. “No, no. That man brings up an excellent point. These systems have been in place for generations, and it’s no surprise, when the strongest labor protections are to be found in these polluting industries. But I am absolutely confident that we can have good jobs— union jobs— and zero-emissions energy too…”]
WATCH: Ioder Heurassein’s bold stances on renewable energy excites crowd at Halure rally
603K comments 1.4M shares 17.3M likes
***
The thing about being an issue candidate was that it wasn’t supposed to win. The purpose of Ioder’s campaign from the outset was to draw attention to the specific, niche topic that he was passionate about: in this case, renewable energy. (The technology was here. The country could make the investments needed to generate clean energy for generations to come, and do so in a way that was better for the people and the planet.)
And yet somehow, that idea, and its particular phrasing, and the expertise in rhetoric that Ioder had developed in his brief 25 years and eight months in this world, were the things that gave his run for President a swift kick in the pants. Ioder’s firm, steady voice as he spoke clearly and energetically about the benefits of the new tech made connections to how this issue was connected to all issues. All it took was for one of his rally’s stump speeches—the one in Halure where he went off-script when someone had heckled him about the town’s reliance on exploiting natural resources—to go viral, and suddenly the news media coverage changed to take him very seriously.
His small team was unprepared. The campaign wasn’t meant to make it past the first primary, and so Ioder had initially opted for a radically minimal team: a communications director in his old friend and mentor Flynn Scifo, Flynn’s nimble digital comms team, an advance team to prep the events on the campaign trail, a lawyer, and a finance director to make sure he was in compliance with all the finance laws. When Ioder’s speech got an unprecedented 1 million shares on social media, and the money and attention came pouring in, he and his team reevaluated: they were in this now to win it. Flynn got promoted to Chief of Staff, and the man then put to use the sudden influx of small cash donations from the tide of ordinary citizens.
The campaign scaled up dramatically. More often than not, Flynn pulled longer hours at headquarters to make it all happen, upsetting his usual routine. His rumbling stomach during one staff meeting was so loud that it interrupted Sodia, the newly-promoted Comms Director, in the middle of her polling results presentation.
Ioder smiled and leaned forward in his chair to look around the oval conference table. “Why don’t we take a quick break? Sodia, maybe you can resume in ten, fifteen minutes?”
Sodia nodded briskly. “Of course, sir.” She looked at Flynn with a neutral expression, though her eyes glowed with amusement. “Might make it twenty, though. To ensure Mr. Scifo gets enough to prevent future interruptions.”
Flynn laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Alright, alright.”
“Let’s just make it a half hour,” Ioder said. “And everyone: get lots of snacks. We have more to cover.”
The conference room emptied out with murmurs of thanks and the scrape of chairs against the floor. Flynn strode over to Sodia to apologize, giving an overly-courteous half-bow that made the woman shake her head fondly. “You’re working too hard,” she said.
“I’ve been telling him that since we were kids,” said a voice at the door. “Good luck getting him to do anything about it.”
Flynn and Ioder turned to see a man with long, dark hair leaning against the door to the conference room. He had a large paper bag with grease stains gripped in one hand, his other hand resting on his hip. His black polo shirt stretched across his chest, the short sleeves cuffed above an impressive set of biceps.
“Yuri!” Flynn said.
“Yuri Lowell,” Sodia growled, folding her arms. “How did you get back here?”
The man—Yuri—shrugged and pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “Ran into Witcher at the front door. Was just gonna leave this on Flynn’s desk, but saw you all clear out.”
“Thank you,” Flynn said, reaching for the bag. “I only had a protein bar for breakfast.”
The expression on Sodia’s face looked torn between fond exasperation at Flynn’s apparent inability to take care of himself, and indignant outrage at Yuri’s lazy flouting of security rules. Ioder looked away to try and keep himself from laughing, only to meet Yuri Lowell’s gray-eyed gaze.
Ioder had heard the tall tales of Flynn’s exploits with his best friend, but they always seemed too unbelievable. Prank wars against the lacrosse team when one of the second-string players made a snide remark about Yuri’s sexuality. Taking ballet classes in order to improve footwork for fencing, only to get roped into dancing the role of the Nutcracker at the annual benefit gala for the local ballet school. All manner of inappropriate jokes about Yuri in the titular role, screen-printed onto t-shirts as gag gifts. Flynn always shared these stories in relation to something campaign-related (“There were recent profiles of LGBTQ environmentalists you might want to read.” “Fix your posture, it’ll be better for your back in the long run.” “That phrase—that belongs on a t-shirt.”), but overall, the picture he painted of Yuri Lowell seemed almost cartoonishly mischievous.
Except, when Yuri stood at the door to the conference room—his posture languid and graceful, lips tilted into a smirk—Ioder felt a blush rise on his fair-skinned face. The look of Yuri Lowell was one that could pierce through Ioder’s public persona and judge his heart directly. All with a sardonic smile.
“You,” Yuri said, his voice low, “must be the man of the moment. Ioder, right?”
“Yes,” Ioder replied, thankful that his voice stayed even. “And based on the commotion you’ve caused among my staff, you’re Yuri Lowell?”
“Oh right! Sorry, sir,” Flynn said. “I meant to introduce him. He’s—”
“Your old friend. The one you grew up with.” Ioder returned his gaze to Flynn and smiled. “I remember. You speak of him fondly. And often.”
Yuri grinned and wrapped an arm around Flynn’s neck to grab him in a headlock. “Aw, you talk about me to your boss? Good things, I hope.”
“I tell him you’re a nuisance and a brat,” Flynn grunted, wrestling to pull Yuri’s arm away.
“Ah, so the truth, then,” Sodia mumbled.
Yuri laughed and turned his attention to the young politician. “I promise my rule-breaking days are over, sir.”
“Call me Ioder, please,” Ioder said, extending his hand.
Yuri whistled. “Wow, a privilege to address you so informally.” He gripped Ioder’s hand in a firm shake.
“All my staff can call me by my first name.” Ioder turned his green eyes over to Flynn, raising an eyebrow. The quick expression made Yuri laugh and let go.
Yuri turned to look at Sodia. “You hear that, Sodes? Boss man says to call him by his first name.”
“Yuri Lowell,” Sodia growled again before she launched into an energetic tirade about propriety and manners. Though the two snipped at each other, Yuri always with a teasing edge, it was clear that they both still had a great amount of respect for one another. Ioder knew Sodia well enough that if she were truly disgusted by Yuri she wouldn’t even bother with him, and would be more vicious in her interactions. Instead, their banter seemed more akin to siblings, grown up but still retaining a childish edge to their bickering.
Ioder laughed under his breath, then turned to organize the papers at his place at the table, a blush still lingering on his cheeks. With his mind thinking about his own dinner, he missed the frank, curious look on Flynn’s face as he glanced between his boss and his best friend.
***
[Video starts with Ioder sitting stiffly on the ground, then breaking into a wide grin when the first puppy enters.
Ioder looks up at the camera. “I need to give my Comms Director a raise. This was the best idea ever .”
He lifts a puppy up and laughs as he accepts slobbery kisses.]
Ioder Heurassien Plays With Puppies While Answering Voter Questions
Buzzer Celeb ✓
7,239,201 views • May 18 13K likes | 2K dislikes
unionizer
Not salty at all that the best political analysis this election season is coming from a fucking PUPPY INTERVIEW
petalpusherhalure
#HeurasseinKaufman20
knightwithoutarmor
The future is bright
xXnerd_mageXx
What was the site to register to vote again? I don’t think he said it enough times lol
grimmmoire92
ugh i hope he doesn’t become a sellout with all this media attention. he’s a serious candidate? what’s he doing playing around like this?
bandit789
A young person acting his age can you BELIEVE
aspiring_miska_doctorate
“I just had this visceral memory of unclenching my asscheeks during finals when my roommate finally dragged me out to play with therapy dogs in the library.” #relatable
SquadCaptainGoals
The hero we all deserve
***
With the campaign picked up in earnest, Ioder had to force himself, and his staff, to take breaks, and made it so that his half hour stroll into the park and back to HQ was the only part of his day set in stone. Most days he was accompanied by a member of his security team—a grim-faced agent with a subtle badge pinned to the lapel of his dark blue suit—but this time, he was with Raven, his head of security. The retired soldier wore slouchy, billowy shirts the color of a ripe eggplant and looked more like a distant uncle prone to falling for get-rich-quick schemes than a strategic mastermind.
“No business today, please,” Ioder said once they stepped out of the office. “I’m not sure if I can give coherent answers right now.”
“No problem, Iodes,” Raven said, stretching his arms to link his hands behind his head. “Just a nice, easy stroll between two dudes.”
Ioder shook his head and smiled. “Iodes?”
“Mm, musta picked it up from Yuri. The boy’s allergic to people’s full names.”
“I don’t mind it,” Ioder said. They walked to the edge of the large park, passing under one of the many arched entryways to the green space. It was less crowded than normal, with people opting to be inside where there was air conditioning and shade, but still full of life and activity as kids raced by on skateboards and people picnicked under the branches of the willow trees. Ioder liked the smell of green that surrounded him, and this one built environment filled him with the same kind of energy he got from a hike or being on the sea.
“How is Yuri Lowell, by the way?” Ioder asked. “He’s keeping my chief of staff well-fed. I wonder if he’s taking care of himself, too.”
Raven smiled, ambling alongside Ioder at his slowed pace. “He’s alright. Tough cookie, that one. He was in the Forces with Flynn but dropped out of the Academy to pursue other things.”
Ioder slowed down even more, turning to the gray-haired agent. “Oh,” he said, “I didn’t know that.”
Raven shrugged. “It’s not something he talks about all that much. The boy claims it’s just because he has an antiauthoritarian reputation to maintain.”
“But you think differently?”
“I tend to just look the other way when it comes to the lad, to be honest.” Raven jerked his chin at the path ahead of them. “But you could probably ask him yourself, if you’re that curious.
Ioder turned to look in the direction Raven was indicating and saw the man in question ambling with a large, wolfish dog on a leash beside him. They were drawing closer on the same path when the dog barked and pulled at his leash, eyes locked on Raven and Ioder. Yuri’s fist tightened instinctively to keep the dog close. “Woah, there, Repede,” Yuri said. “Steady, now.”
Repede walked more sedately at Yuri’s side for two seconds, enough time for Yuri to raise his other hand in a wave. When Ioder and Raven drew even with them, Repede barked and jumped again, though this time Ioder was ready to receive him with open arms. Impeccable khakis be damned, the young politician bent to one knee to accept wet kisses from the dog, laughing and rubbing at the fur on Repede’s head.
“Sorry about him,” Yuri said, tugging lightly on the leash to get Repede to calm down. “He tends to be enthusiastic with people he decides he likes.”
“He just met me,” Ioder said, raising his eyebrows. He laughed when Repede licked his cheek, his wet nose poking his face. “Not that I’m complaining, obviously.”
Yuri shrugged. “Who knows what goes on in his head.”
“Thinking about being the best boy, huh?” Ioder said, ruffling Repede around his ears. Repede woof-ed softly, bumping his nose against Ioder’s before lying down on the ground, legs up. “I can take a hint,” Ioder said, fully kneeling and laughing as the dog seemed to melt at his belly rubs. Repede panted, tongue lolling out comically, contrasting his tough, regal appearance, and Ioder responded with belly rubs from both hands. He yelped in surprise when Repede suddenly rolled over to his feet to lick enthusiastically at Ioder’s face again.
“Sorry,” Ioder said, looking up sheepishly at Yuri. “I don’t mean to monopolize your dog’s attention.”
“Not at all. I’m glad you’re both having a good time.” Yuri put a hand on his hip and looked at Ioder, a smile at the edge of a smirk. “You look more relaxed since the last time I saw you.”
“Puppy therapy helps,” Ioder replied, glancing down at Repede for more ruffles around the neck. “Also, the last time you saw me was the first time you saw me. How do you know when I’m relaxed or not?”
Yuri laughed, loud and from his belly. “Fair. For all I know, giving belly rubs to a dog is how you display your nerves.” He gestured at Repede, who was lying down on the ground again, eyes nearly closed in contentment as Ioder’s continued giving him attention.
Ioder grinned. “We all have our unique ways of coping. You can’t expect to learn all of my methods in one meeting.”
“Guess we’ll just have to keep meeting.” Yuri smiled back, gray eyes dancing with amusement. The midday sun shone brightly behind him, his skin slick and shiny with sweat, hair pulled back in a high and sleek ponytail. He had a slant to his hips as he stood and watched, and Ioder found his eyes being drawn up the languid line of the man’s body. A blush started in Ioder’s collar as he met the other man’s gaze.
A cough nearly made Ioder startle, and he turned to see Raven standing close by. “Sorry to, uh, interrupt. But we should head back to the office, sir.”
Ioder sighed, giving Repede one last rub on his stomach before standing up. He dusted off the knees of his slacks as Repede stood, shaking out his fur. “I suppose you’re right.” He turned to Yuri and gave a little bow. “It was good seeing you, Mister Lowell.”
Yuri pulled a face. “God, no. Please just call me Yuri.”
Ioder smirked. “Alright, then. Yuri.”
The man nodded and tugged lightly on Repede’s leash. “We should get going, too. My break at the shop’s almost up.”
“Shop?”
“Coffee shop. On the other side of the park,” Yuri said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “Stop by sometime, I can get you a caffeine fix.”
“Maybe sometime soon,” Ioder said, stepping back towards Raven, towards headquarters, towards his responsibilities.
Yuri grinned, lifting a hand to wave him away. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
***
[Video starts with Ioder Heurassein pressing the ‘start’ button on the coffee machine, and blinking when it doesn’t start brewing.
“Oh,” he says, “I forgot to put the water in.]
WATCH: A Day In the Life of Ioder Heurassein
WonderReport ✓
12,239,201 views • July 10 10M likes | 1.7K dislikes
MeltingZopheir
#Relatable
aspiring_miska_doctorate
Me when studying for my MECH E 318 exam
love_u_ioder
How can one person be so adorable???
SwordStaircaseToHeaven
Anyone else think that this guy’s too good to be true? I’m just waiting for someone to reveal that he’s a serial killer. Or someone who keeps his phone on during musicals.
Ioder5evr
I know that this can’t be 100% truthful because no way a campaign would allow that much access (partly for security reasons, right?). But if they edited out parts of his day, it’s wild to imagine him doing MORE in a day, you know?
FocacciaHere
FMK Ioder, Dinoia, and Cumore
WonderReporterJunkie
Is this even a question? You put them in order already
***
Meeting Repede seemed to be a sort of test, a milestone that, once passed, Ioder found himself part of Yuri’s inner circle of people he kept fed with pastries and sandwiches from the cafe. When Yuri brought a baker’s dozen of assorted bagels, he knocked on the doorway to Ioder’s office and made sure he got to have his pick instead of simply taking what was left over. Sometimes Ioder got a grease-stained bag set on his desk, away from any papers that looked important, with a still-warm grilled cheese inside. On particularly long days, he’d find a cardboard box of coffee in the conference room, Brave Vesperia’s star-shaped logo on the side.
“I hope he’s not losing much money,” Ioder said, picking up a raspberry pastry from yet another Brave Vesperia box on the conference room table. “Or are these technically considered campaign contributions?”
“Most of the small things are actually just from him as a private citizen,” Flynn explained as they walked to Ioder’s office. “We’re sort of guinea pigs for the new things he makes for the cafe. And the coffee we reimburse him for.”
“I see,” Ioder said. “So that chocolate pudding from last week?”
“Wasn’t a menu item before,” Flynn replied. “Though I think Yuri added it recently. I saw it drawn on the sandwich board outside his shop.
“I did like that,” Ioder said. “The orange glaze was innovative.”
Flynn checked his watch. “Would you like me to get you one while I’m out, sir? I’m planning to stop there for lunch.”
Ioder opened his mouth to say Yes, please , but paused, then glanced down at the weekly calendar open at his desk. Technically, he had a meeting during lunch with Sodia to go over communications strategy, and then a meeting with Flynn after to discuss a potential new hire for the advance team. Ioder stuck his head out of his office door. “Excuse me, Sodia?”
The Comms Director turned in her seat. “Yes, sir?”
“Would you be alright with having our strategy meeting at two instead of one?”
Sodia ran her finger down the column of her own schedule. “Yes, that should be fine.”
“Thank you,” Ioder said. He turned to Flynn. “Would you be opposed to doing some work during lunch? I’d like to stretch my legs a little, and I’ve been meaning to see the cafe for quite some time.”
“O-oh, of course not, sir. I’d be glad to talk during lunch.”
“Maybe this way we get through everything more efficiently instead of getting sidetracked, if we’re out and walking and in a cafe.”
“Good thinking,” Flynn said as he followed Ioder out the door. “And I think you’ll really like the place.” He paused then let a smile curve the corners of his mouth up. “Yuri’s worked really hard to make it.”
“That, I have no doubt,” Ioder said, grinning as he pushed the glass door open.
Muggy, humid air greeted them when they stepped outside, enough to make the starched collar of Ioder’s shirt wilt and to bring out a thin film of sweat on his forehead within the first few minutes of walking across the park. The two men stuck to the edges of the walking path in the shade of tall trees. They wiped at their faces with handkerchiefs from their pockets.
“Talk to me about this endorsement,” Ioder said, “the one who approached Estellise in Aspio.”
Flynn hummed. “Right. Well, she was approached after a phone bank rally—you know, after she gave one of those pre-shift pep talks—and the guy said that he could solidify our environmentalist base.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
“Well,” Flynn rubbed the back of his neck, “we seem to have a steady base already in that particular group. You’re an environmental issue candidate, after all. Plus this guy, Duke, he has some pretty polarizing views.”
“Polarizing?”
“He’s endorsed property destruction before. Blown up pipelines, caused accidents for trucks carrying oil rig equipment, that kind of thing.”
Ioder nodded. “Ah, I see. Polarizing.”
Flynn looked at the young politician out of the corner of his eye. “Then again…everyone, or nearly everyone, on your campaign has endorsed similar behavior.”
“I myself have been arrested at pipeline protests,” Ioder said immediately.
“And based on our preliminary research, Duke is the real deal,” Flynn said. “He has quite a large following, and the conversation around him seems to be a sort of grudging respect. He’s extreme, but to get his endorsement might signal to voters that we’re serious about tackling climate change.” They had reached the other end of the park, and Flynn looked both ways before crossing the street, a hand on Ioder’s shoulder to guide him. “But it might come at the risk of pushing away the more moderate voters.”
Ioder hummed, turning the complications over in his mind as Flynn pulled open the glass door to the cafe. The air that rushed towards their faces was only marginally cooler, and carried the scent of roasted coffee and fresh pastries. The line in front of the register fully snaked around the path shaped out by various dividers, and Flynn and Ioder took their spots at the end of the line.
“The more moderate voters,” Ioder murmured so that Flynn had to bend his head down to hear him. “They’re already with us. Our platform includes mandating electric vehicles and outlawing fossil fuel power plants, correct?”
“But they’re not our most popular positions,” Flynn said, stepping in front of Ioder as the line moved. “Polls say that of the policies we have listed on our site, those two are actually the least popular since people believe the transition period would be too disruptive.”
Ioder sighed, frustrated, stepping forward with Flynn. “A few days’—or even weeks’—time off of work is nothing compared to the cost of keeping these systems in place. Our plan includes a budget to compensate for individuals’ disrupted work! Does no one read the full plan on the site?”
Flynn couldn’t help but laugh a little. “No, sir, they don’t.”
Ioder pressed his lips in a tight line, inhaling to get ready to say something before seeing Flynn’s amused face. He smiled, then, letting his breath out in a rush. “Fair. I probably wouldn’t be able to read the whole thing in one sitting, and I wrote the damn thing.”
“It is a lot to get through,” Flynn said, “but people are interested. The latest website analytics from Witcher’s team says that the PDFs on the site actually have quite a high clickthrough rate. About a third of people who visit the site actually open the file, and considering how many visits we get per day, that’s actually quite a lot of eyeballs on the plan. Maybe not enough to address the concerns of the general public, but every little bit helps.”
“That’s something, I guess,” Ioder said. They were closer to the counter now, and Ioder could see the pastry display case in full, only two of the chocolate puddings he craved in the spot closest to the register. He bit his lip and sighed when the other person at the register, a pretty woman with dyed hair pulled back into a messy bun, took one and set it on the counter for the customer in front of her. “I really hope they don’t run out,” he said under his breath, glancing from the case to quickly count the people in front of him.
They didn’t talk much as the line inched forward. Ioder checked his watch, trying to decide if drinking a full-strength coffee early in the afternoon would disrupt his sleep too much that night. He groaned when he saw the last pudding getting taken out of the case right before he and Flynn reached the front, but he scanned the display case quickly to make sure his second choice—a fruit and yogurt parfait cup with mango jelly—was still in abundant supply.
Flynn put a hand on Ioder’s shoulder and steered them to the front. He greeted Yuri with a casual, “Hey,” then proceeded to blush when the woman at the register bumped Yuri aside with her hip then leaned over the counter to kiss Flynn on a reddening cheek. “I—you’re on the clock, still.”
“My boss is your best friend. I have some leeway.”
“Well, I—my boss is right here,” Flynn said, indicating Ioder. “Sir, this is my—my partner, Judith.”
The woman smiled, holding a hand out to Ioder. “And I know who you are, already. I’m a fan of your energy transition plan.”
Ioder grinned, glancing over at Flynn before shaking Judy’s hand. “I’m glad to hear that, Miss Judith.”
She shook her head. “Judy’s fine, sir. Only Flynn gets special permission to call me otherwise.”
“Oh, my apologies.”
Yuri grinned and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Flynn cut him off. “Not. One. Word.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything!”
“My boss is right here, Yuri!”
“I wasn’t going to say anything bad!” Yuri turned to Ioder, and Ioder felt like he was being roped into some conspiracy with Yuri, a prank or a joke that felt as harmless as much as it was thrilling. “Honest, this guy just thinks the worst of me. I was simply going to remark that their relationship seemed so sweet.”
Ioder smiled. “Coming from you, that sounds like a preamble to a dirty joke.”
Flynn choked on air. “Sir!”
Yuri laughed loudly as he reached across the register for some to-go cups. “Flynn! You need to take a leaf outta this guy’s book. You’d think,” Yuri said, turning to Ioder again as he filled a cup with black coffee, “that this guy co-parenting Repede with me when we were kids would be enough to get him to lighten up, but apparently not.”
“And again I say that not everyone associates dogs with de-stressing,” Ioder said, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.
Yuri tsked. “It’s on the house, Iodes,” he said as he reached for the second cup. He cut off Ioder’s protests and said, “Now, are you like Flynn here and want this half-caf? Or you gonna live on the edge and YOLO yourself into a sleepless night?”
Ioder scrunched his nose. “I should be responsible and go for the former.” He laughed when Yuri booed, and he took his wallet out of his pocket anyway. “And we were thinking of getting food as well. Flynn, what were you getting?”
“It’s already taken care of,” Judy said as she slid a fruit-and-protein to-go box across the counter at Flynn.
Flynn smiled, turning red again when Judy leaned over to kiss his other cheek. “Thanks, babe.”
Ioder hummed. “I guess I’ll go for one of the yogurt parfaits, then,” he said, starting to thumb through the bills in his wallet to at least pay for the food.
“You don’t want the chocolate pudding?” Yuri asked, placing the coffees on the counter next Flynn’s to-go box.
“There aren’t any left,” Ioder pouted. “And I couldn’t impose and ask you to make any mo—”
He stopped when Yuri placed another to-go box on the counter, the clear window on the top showing the orange-glazed treat inside. “I saw you eyeing it when you got up in the line, so I saved it,” Yuri murmured. Ioder looked up to see his face still look amused but fonder, somehow. Softer around the eyes. “That’s what you wanted, right?”
Ioder stared at the dessert for a moment, his mind blank. It was just a dessert , but he wanted to lean across the counter like Judy and kiss Yuri on the cheek regardless. Instead, he looked up and met Yuri’s eye, aware of the blush heating his cheeks and his chief of staff watching him. “Yes,” Ioder said. “This is exactly what I wanted.”
***
[A magazine cover image featuring a sepia-toned photograph of Ioder Heurassein sitting in a wooden chair, striking a slouchy pose, looking at the camera. He is wearing a classic three-piece suit with the jacket unbuttoned. His other hand is loosening his tie.]
HEURASSEIN THE HEARTTHROB
YOUNG, HOT, AND
HUNGRY FOR CHANGE
Inside the campaign that’s
heating up the polls—
and cooling the planet
***
When Ioder dressed in the mornings, he barely looked in the mirror. The shower steam fogged up the glass and remained fogged while he brushed his teeth, and his wardrobe was almost always the same: a button-up collared shirt in a shade of green that determined if he wore khaki-colored or dark brown or black slacks. He put on his shirts and slipped in the collar stays to straighten out the points, sliding his fingers around the back of his neck to smooth down the fabric. He tucked in his shirt with that same meticulousness, buttoned his cuffs, and if there was anything off about his appearance before doing an event or a photo op or a speech, he trusted his team to do a once-over to make sure he didn’t look sloppy.
The formalwear he donned for another fundraiser was unusual, and Ioder used the full-length mirror in the men’s room of the campaign headquarters to tie the bowtie. His tuxedo was a rental, but perfectly measured so that the pants and jacket looked tailor-made. The slim cut gave the illusion of more height than he had. Sodia had chosen for him a classic black suit with white shirt and cummerbund—“Anything else would have made you look like a high schooler going to prom, sir.”—and the fancy clothes made him scrutinize his reflection even closer.
At twenty-five and ten months, Ioder’s chin was a bit sharper than when he was a teenager. Sodia had recommended he push his hair back, revealing his smooth forehead and lengthening his somewhat round face. He took a tiny amount of styling wax, warmed it between his fingers, then pushed it through his blond hair so that it stayed in place. The wax darkened his hair somewhat so that it wasn’t quite so yellow, and even in the fluorescent lights of the bathroom, he had to admit that he looked pretty good. More sophisticated somehow. At least like he knew what he was doing.
When he left the bathroom to go to his office, he heard a wolf whistle, then an exasperated, “Judith, please.” Ioder looked over and saw Flynn in a similar black-and-white tux, his hand covering his face, and Judy leaning her head on Flynn’s shoulder. She was wearing a floor-length, indigo-colored sheath dress that matched Flynn’s cufflinks, her dyed hair pulled back into a ponytail that sat high on her head.
“You look good, Ioder,” Judy said, smiling warmly.
Ioder spread his arms, spun slowly on the spot. “Nothing amiss?”
“Nothing amiss,” Judy said. “You look like a million gald.”
“Let’s hope he raises a million gald,” Sodia said, stepping forward with a lint roller. She was dressed in a teal-colored dress with bronze dangle earrings bumping against the side of her face as she moved. “But, you do look nice, sir.”
“I’m also hoping we reach our—more modest—fundraising goal tonight,” Ioder said. “That way we can all go home, I can take this off, and then do something better with my time.”
Sodia laughed, brushed Ioder’s shoulders one more time, then stepped back. “You’re ready to schmooze, sir.”
“Wonderful,” Ioder said, dryly.
The fundraiser was held in an old armory converted into a band shelter after the Great War. Outside, the building seemed to be a utilitarian, concrete structure, slightly dome-shaped so that rainwater ran off and didn’t pool on the roof. Past the metal front doors, though, the inside was revamped with warm wood paneling and velvet drapes and high-piled carpet leading to a polished parquet floor in the main ballroom area. Chandeliers hung from the ceilings, and skylights that were added during the building renovation showed the changing sunset sky outside. Everything seemed to glitter, from the polished silverware to the jewelry on the arms and necks of the wealthy elite paying thousands of gald a plate.
The fundraiser wasn’t only for Ioder’s campaign, but for the good of the coalition of independent candidates running at all levels of government—state, local, and his own campaign for president serving as the coattails for all these smaller elections. Ioder rarely had to attend events like these since much of his campaign money came instead from small donations from regular citizens. But they had to do something with all the attention that they got in the wake of his viral video, and planning an event that would allow the less popular candidates to share his spotlight was one such thing.
When Ioder entered, he was immediately greeted by Estellise, her pink hair freshly dyed and pinned back in a French twist. “Ioder! I was just talking to someone I think you should meet,” she said. She greeted him with air kisses to both cheeks, her face bumping his, and she turned to Flynn, Judy, and Sodia to greet them similarly.
Flynn and Judy left arm-in-arm to say hello to Witcher, who was waving at them from across the room, and Sodia went off to start making the rounds, greeting the people she met by name and asking about their family, their partner, their business. Estellise linked her arm through Ioder’s and steered him to one side of the room where a man with long, white hair stood surveying the room with a glass of champagne in his hand.
“This is Duke Pantarei,” Estellise said when they reached the man. “Duke, this is my cousin, Ioder, whose green energy plan I was talking with you about in Aspio.”
Duke turned to look at Ioder, his amber eyes seeming to slow somewhat redder in the warm light of the room. Upon closer inspection, Duke was quite young despite the whiteness of his hair, his face unlined and cleanly shaved, cheekbones sharp. When he spoke, his voice was deep, rumbling like the precursor to an earthquake. “A pleasure to meet you,” he said. “You have been creating quite the buzz this election season. I don’t remember any independent candidate making quite a splash like this in quite some time.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Ioder said, with a small bow, placing his hand over Estellise’s hand before she slipped it from his elbow. “And I hope to do something more lasting than make a splash this season.”
Duke nodded, though his expression didn’t change. He lifted a hand when a server passed with a tray of champagne flutes. “Shall we drink? To lasting change?”
Ioder took a flute from the tray and passed it to Estellise, then took one for himself. He met the server’s eye and thanked them before they continued making their circuit around the room. Ioder raised his glass to Duke. “To lasting change.”
Ioder sipped his champagne slowly over the course of the next hour so that his final sip of the glass was already flat and lukewarm. Ioder had made the rounds with Estellise, meeting state and local candidates from the cities his cousin had visited as his campaign surrogate. He smiled a closed-lipped smile when people asked for photographs, and frequently took mushroom cap canapes and mini spring rolls from the servers who walked around the room with trays on their arms, thanking the server personally whenever he took food from them.
When dinner was announced, the finger food appetizers disappeared and Ioder took his seat at a table with Flynn, Judy, Sodia, and Witcher, and Don Whitehorse from Dahngrest who looked like he was about to flex out of his tuxedo, and a woman named Belius who had a fox skin wrapped around her. The stuffed head rested on her shoulder, and the tail wrapped around her arm. Duke was at a table nearby, close enough that he could lean back in his seat and tap Ioder on the shoulder, but he mostly conversed with the people at his table, including Raven, whom he seemed to know.
The food was served in five courses, each one slightly bigger than the last. Ioder thanked the server each time they set a new plate in front of him, sometimes drawing them into a brief conversation if the same person came around to clear their plates.
“You’re a student,” Ioder said to one who came to clear their plates for dessert. “And yet you’re working the equivalent of full-time through a variety of seasonal and gig jobs to afford your living expenses in college.”
“Yes, sir,” the server—a young man with light brown hair swooped up into a sort of bouffant above his forehead—said as he rested plates on his arms. “It’s just the way it is. School is expensive.”
“But I’m saying that it doesn’t have to be,” Ioder said. He smiled and shook his head. “Anyway, I’m sorry, I should let you do your job. But mark my words,” he said, meeting his eye, “there is a way to make college tuition free for anyone who can make it to college, so that people don’t have to break their bodies to improve their minds.” The server blushed and nodded, taking the plates away.
“You’re quite insistent about this,” Don Whitehorse said, his voice rumbling.
“If I believe something, I might as well be insistent,” Ioder replied, taking a sip from his water glass.
“Ah, the righteous stubbornness of a young man,” Belius said, her eyes twinkling at Ioder.
“As long as I’m right, I’ll be stubborn,” Ioder said. “Though haranguing people while they’re on the job probably isn’t a good thing to do.”
“It’s not always a bad thing,” Judy said, taking Flynn’s hand and grinning at her partner.
Ioder smiled. “Perhaps. Though we can’t all be as lucky as you two.”
“There’s a story there,” Belius said, raising her white wine glass to her lips.
Flynn blushed and Judy pinched his cheek, giggling. “It’s not so much a story of Flynn haranguing me at work. More like Flynn stopping other people from haranguing me at work.” She brought Flynn’s hand up to her cheek as she spoke. “I work in a coffee shop owned by his best friend, and he used to come in every Thursday around two o’clock to order a half-caf coffee and a sugary drink. And the first time he came in, he stopped this really sleazy customer from hogging my time—”
“To be fair,” Flynn said, “that was mostly your doing, I think.”
Judy smiled. “Well, in any case sometimes bothering people on the job can lead to good things.” She kissed Flynn’s cheek, making him blush even harder.
“Well, I’m glad that my shop has been so effective at playing matchmaker.”
Ioder’s heart jumped in his chest as he looked up to see Yuri standing behind Don Whitehorse and Belius. He was dressed in a white shirt with a black waistcoat and slacks belted to his slim hips, his shoes polished so thoroughly that they looked to be made of liquid leather. He had his dark hair pulled up and out of his face, the ponytail twisted into a sleek braid that draped over the shoulder that didn’t have a large tray resting on it. He grinned and winked at Ioder before reaching up and lifting dessert dishes from his tray to set on the table.
“Speak of the devil,” Sodia said, her teeth gritted into a smile that was more like a grimace.
“What can I say? I have perfect timing.”
“You’re the best friend with the coffee shop, I assume?” Don Whitehorse said, eyeing Yuri closely.
Yuri bent his knees in an approximation of a curtsy, his tray still perfectly balanced. “The one and only. Yuri Lowell, at your dessert service. Speaking of which.” He made his way around, setting the dishes in front of each person at the table. “Dessert tonight is tiramisu with a twist: chocolate mascarpone creme, topped with cinnamon espresso powder and a candied orange slice.” He winked at Ioder again as he placed a dish in front of him. “Not quite the chocolate-orange glazed pudding, but I hope this will do.”
“I’m sure it’s delicious,” Ioder said, smiling, and fighting to keep a brilliant blush from rising up his cheeks. “Thank you, Yuri.”
His tray emptied, Yuri held it to his chest as he bowed. “Enjoy your dessert, good folk.” He smiled at Ioder as he straightened, then turned to walk away. Ioder tried not to stare at his retreating form, and instead picked up his dessert fork and sliced immediately into the spongy cake. The layers were so light that the first bite seemed to melt on his tongue.
After dessert, Ioder took his second and final glass of champagne from one of the roaming servers and sipped it even slower than he did the first. Now that he knew that Yuri was here, he caught more and more glimpses of the man carrying trays of drinks, or chocolate-dipped fruit, or after dinner mints. Yuri never called attention to himself, and the people’s eyes seemed to pass right over him, his smile bland and unassuming, his gait smooth and silent and fluid through the crowd.
Ioder took more photos with candidates and donors and guests, some of them posed and some of them candid. His smile was starting to feel stiff, and he subtly stretched out his face muscles when he took a sip of his drink, or took a bite of food off of one of the passing trays. He always, always thanked the server directly.
The night was still in full swing when Ioder leaned against one of the walls near where the kitchens must have been. He stood next to a set of swinging doors with windows cut in, well out of the door’s footprint to avoid getting hit. He took a flat sip of champagne and was thinking about the best, fastest way to leave without insulting anyone, when he felt a tap on his shoulder.
Yuri was there, his tray empty and dangling from his fingers, his other hand on his hip. “Rough night?”
“No rougher than most nights,” Ioder said. He cleared his throat and shifted so that his back was more firmly against the wall. “I didn’t realize you were going to be working this event.”
“I catered dessert,” Yuri said, shrugging. “It was fairly simple to make everything, so once I was done I thought I’d be on the front lines with my crew.”
“That’s quite noble of you, actually.”
“You sound surprised,” Yuri said, teasing.
Ioder shook his head. “Maybe. But I shouldn’t be.”
Yuri raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“You don’t strike me as the type to just sit back and let other people do the hard work for you,” Ioder said. He let his gaze drop to his shoes, kicking lightly against the ground. “You’re…I don’t know. You don’t strike me as the type to sit back at all.”
Yuri hummed, tapping his tray against his leg. “You seem to have a pretty set idea of who I am based on just a handful of meetings.”
Ioder looked up. Yuri was closer, now, not quite closing in, but enough that if either of them shifted they could be tangled up together. They were close enough to see the subtle movements of each other’s eyes as they roamed across their faces, skimmed their shoulders, slid down the long lines of each other’s bodies and back up again, curiosity and interest and attraction clearly evident.
“We should keep meeting, then,” Ioder said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Yuri grinned. “We should.” His eyes flicked down Ioder’s face, his body, and back up. Yuri held out a hand, a small, subtle movement. “How about we start now? You look like you’re done here.”
Ioder looked down at the hand offered to him. “I have to say my goodbyes,” he murmured.
“Do you?” Yuri’s smile was sharper, now, and he held Ioder’s gaze steadily, gray eyes dark in the dim light of the room.
Ioder bit his lip, let his hand slip into Yuri’s, heart pounding, head full of the man in front of him. “No,” he said. “I don’t.”
***
IODER IN LOVE? FUNDRAISER PHOTOS CATCH SPARK BETWEEN PRESIDENTIAL HOPEFUL AND MYSTERY MAN
By Xavier Leblanc, Brigade News Source
Presidential hopeful Ioder Heurassein passed a major campaign milestone Friday night, but his achievement was upstaged by a private moment
View All Comments ⏷
unionizer
lol how is this news?
BiPanic
this is the gay agenda
xXnerd_mageXx
i can’t tell if you’re being nicely ironic or a sarcastic asshole
BiPanic
both, like my sexuality
Ioder5evr
read the username god
love_u_ioder
aww but they look really cute together??? 10/10 would ship
DankDungeon77
ew don’t ship real people
aspiring_miska_doctorate
off-topic, but i really liked the writer’s use of the word “absconded” in the second-to-last paragraph. good word choice.
***
The photo looked remarkably well-lit, almost as if it were staged so that the people in the foreground were softly out of focus. Ioder and Yuri were framed by fuzzy faces and bokeh lights. Yuri’s back was to the camera, his braid neat and curled around his neck, and there was enough of his face visible to see his hooded eyes and playful smirk. Ioder, slightly shorter so that most of his body was hidden by Yuri’s shoulder, was clearly pictured looking at Yuri with hooded eyes, mouth smiling, teeth biting down on his bottom lip.
“All things considered,” Ioder said, “this doesn’t sound like a hit piece. More like—”
“The start of a romance novel,” Flynn said, hands covering his eyes. “It’s not negative, but it’s still—”
“Trashy,” Sodia finished. “It’s really trashy. But,” she sighed and rubbed at her temples, “people are talking. It’s not exactly something to sweep under the rug.”
“Not that we would ever do that,” Flynn said, sitting up straight in his chair, “if for no other reason than Yuri would kill me if we tried to blatantly lie to the public.”
“But people spin things all the time to hide something like this,” Ioder said. He hurriedly added, “Not that I would want to spin this away either. We can absolutely just tell people the truth. It’s not like my being gay would be a complete surprise.”
“If anything we can spin it even more in your favor,” Sodia said. “Tell the truth, but make the message about forcibly outing people who aren’t ready to share that part of their identity with the world.”
“There’s been a spike in interest from people who identify as LGBTQ,” Flynn said. “Witcher said he’s been fielding contact requests from advocacy groups who want to somehow combine forces. Form a progressive coalition. Queers for the Climate. Something like that.”
Ioder nodded, but he closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “I suppose…whatever’s best for the campaign. Whatever you think is necessary to keep up our momentum.”
The room grew quiet for a moment. “Sir?” Flynn asked. “Are you…are you sure?”
“Yes,” Ioder said. He sighed and lifted his head again, opening his eyes. “We’ve made it this far. I’m not going to let something like this harmless truth about me stop us.”
Flynn and Sodia exchanged a look before Flynn said, “Very well. I’ll meet with you in two hours to go over a plan. Sodia,” Flynn turned to the communications director, walking them both out of Ioder’s office, “I’ll need you to draft a press release. And I’ll start reaching out to our endorsers and surrogates, start making sure we know where they all stand…”
When the door closed behind Flynn and Sodia, Ioder let his head fall back against the headrest of his chair, and closed his eyes. Even behind his eyelids, he could see the photo printed on the front page of the paper, and the other photos they had captured of those scant moments of conversation he shared with Yuri in that corner of the room. Ioder biting his lip and giving Yuri bedroom eyes. Ioder laughing freely, his hand resting for a moment on Yuri’s bicep. Yuri leading the two of them away, smiling sly and smooth at Ioder.
Ioder was able to catch the most important people for a brief goodbye before slipping away with Yuri into the kitchens and then out the back door. When they left the building, the night air was cooling down quickly, and a small park was just a short walk away, tucked into some alleyway between two larger skyscrapers.
It had been a while since Ioder felt so reckless. He took Yuri’s hand in order to keep up with the man’s long strides. Once they reached the park and slowed down, he just kept his hand tangled up, his fingers sliding between Yuri’s, their palms pressed lightly together. Suddenly, he wasn’t a politician, or an activist, or a mastermind, but just a man with his heart racing and his skin warm, his body falling into the gravity of another body. They walked for a while without speaking much, and paused when the fireflies started flashing, flying up like sparks.
Yuri asked questions—about his family, about what he wanted to be when he was a kid, about the difference between politics and governance. And Ioder answered, didn’t feel like he was treading carefully through a minefield, didn’t feel like any answer he gave would be the end of everything he had worked hard for.
“And what about you?” Ioder asked when he was finished recounting a story about Estellise’s first state dinner that made Yuri cry with laughter. “What’s your family like?”
“Hmm.” Yuri tilted his head and looked up at the trees in shadow, the green leaves blocking the light of the street lamps. “Grew up in the foster system,” he said. “Was placed with Flynn’s family for a while before I turned eighteen and could live on my own.”
“I see,” Ioder said. “So Flynn’s your family, really.”
“Best friends and brothers. That guy’s seen me at my best and my worst.” Yuri smirked and turned to Ioder. “Of course, the reverse is true, too.”
Ioder smiled. “So the real reason you two are still friends is because you each have too much blackmail material.” Warmth spread in Ioder’s chest at Yuri’s barking laugh, and it spread up his chest into his face as Yuri squeezed his hand.
It was nice. It was romantic. It was everything Ioder had imagined when it came to the start of a new relationship, and he didn’t want it to end. But it also felt too soon, felt sudden, felt like the world was demanding something from him that he wasn’t ready to give, that he wasn’t sure Yuri was ready to give. His campaign had really only taken off in earnest just a scant few weeks ago, and there was always something new to address, a new problem to solve. But it wouldn’t get any easier if he was lucky enough to get elected into office. If anything, in office, his decisions would have consequences much bigger than himself and his inner circle.
He needed to talk to Yuri. That much was certain. Whatever path his team took in addressing this story, it was imperative that Yuri have a say, too. It’s his life, his livelihood, on the line as much as Ioder’s, and from what Ioder knew of him, Yuri wouldn’t appreciate other people making his decisions for him.
The cafe was nearly empty when Ioder arrived almost at the close of business. The team spent the rest of the day drafting press releases, sending them over to Yuri, and hearing back in the form of a thumbs-up emoji texted to Flynn.
It didn’t feel like enough, though, so Ioder sent them home—late, as always, but not as late as most nights—and made his way across the park, Raven at his side to escort him.
“World’s really changed since I was a young man,” Raven said, stretching his arms above his head. “If any of my private shenanigans as a Lieutenant ever saw the light of day, that’d be the end of me. No press release, no nothin’, just an end to my career and life as I knew it.”
“Something tells me that your private shenanigans and my private shenanigans are very different,” Ioder said, smiling, it seemed, for the first time that day.
Raven tsked. “Don’t be so quick to judge. I was positively tame.”
“Why do I find that hard to believe?”
“Ask Yuri when we get there,” Raven said. “We didn’t ever overlap in the Forces, but he’s heard stories.”
“And probably learned terrible, terrible things from them.” Ioder laughed at Raven’s indignant squawk, then paused for a moment before saying, “I look forward to learning those terrible, terrible things from him, then.”
Raven stopped walking to stare at Ioder. When Ioder turned to shoot him a look, Raven then burst into laughter, throwing his head back. “I don’t know how anyone thought you had this squeaky clean image.” He jogged a little to catch up to Ioder. “You’re just more covert about your depravity.”
“Therein lies the answer,” Ioder said, his steps coming to a halt on the sidewalk.
They had reached the cafe, the bright light from the inside spilling out through the glass storefront onto the sidewalk. There were two people—college kids either studying or on a really awkward date—and Yuri behind the counter, already counting the register. Two jars stood in front of the till; the labels Rita’s College Fund and Karol’s College Fund were readable even from the door. Ioder watched Yuri slip the bills from hand to hand, mouth moving as if saying the numbers under his breath, head bobbing to some unheard music. His hair was down and tossed over one shoulder, a glint of a gold stud in his ear.
Raven pulled out a cigarette and stood by the door. Ioder waited until Yuri had finished counting and made note of the amount in his ledger before reaching forward to pull the door open. A bell tinkled softly, and Yuri looked up to see Ioder walk in. Yuri smiled, soft and a little tired, but he straightened up as Ioder approached.
Yuri opened his mouth, but seemed to think twice about what he was going to say, and so closed it again. He cleared his throat. “What’ll it be tonight, Iodes? Last of the medium roast? Living on the edge for once?”
Ioder huffed a laugh and tilted his head, biting his bottom lip. He met Yuri’s eye, watched as Yuri lifted a cardboard cup from the stack near the register. “You know what?” Ioder said. “Why not? I like a bit of danger.”
“Caffeine after dark—so dangerous,” Yuri teased. He wrote on the side of the cup with a marker even though Ioder was the only customer, and turned to the nearly-empty carafes behind him.
“It is when you have Sodia on your case talking about proper self-care.” Ioder smiled as he reached for his wallet.
His fingers had just gripped the edge when Yuri said, “If you’re planning to pay for this, I’ll take that as a personal challenge to my honor and we’ll have no choice but to duel to the death.”
Ioder laughed fully. The noise startled the pair of college kids in the shop. “Surely a few gald would only be worth a duel to first blood instead.”
“I have shitty aim,” Yuri said.
“You were in the Forces for a while. I doubt that.”
Yuri capped the coffee and turned to Ioder. His mouth twisted into a slight frown. “How’d you know I was in the Forces?”
“I have my sources,” Ioder said. “And by sources, I mean Raven.” He glanced behind him just in time to catch Raven turning around to pretend like he wasn’t avidly watching the proceedings inside the shop.
Yuri hummed. “The old man isn’t subtle.”
“He really isn’t.”
Yuri set the cup on the counter but didn’t push it across right away. He leaned forward to look at Ioder, his gray eyes searching.
Ioder kept eye contact and stayed still, even though the blood zipped through his body as it was frantically urged onward by a rapidly-beating heart. He was much closer to Yuri the night before, leaned in almost close enough to kiss, but something about this moment in the bright lights of the cafe felt more intimate and important than those surreptitious movements in the dark. This close, with this much light, Ioder could see the faint lines already starting to form between and around Yuri’s eyebrows, betraying his more-than-occasional worry about the world around him. This close, Ioder noticed the stray bit of skin flaking from the corner of Yuri’s chapped lips, and the nervous motion of his tongue darting out to wet his mouth before he spoke.
“You also aren’t subtle,” Yuri murmured, “if the papers are to be believed.”
The air vibrated around Ioder. “Even the gossip rags get some things right sometimes.”
Yuri slid the coffee cup across the way. “Subtle or not, you’re not paying for the dregs of hours-old coffee.”
Ioder opened his wallet. “I’m not giving you money.” He pulled a small card from one of the pockets—it felt weird to call them business cards when he wasn’t really in any kind of business except politics—and dropped it into the Rita’s College Fund tip jar. When he saw Yuri’s raised eyebrow, Ioder said, “I’m giving you my number.”
“Technically you just gave Rita your number,” Yuri said.
Ioder rolled his eyes. “I was trying to be subtle.”
Yuri smirked. He rested his chin on his fist, his elbow on the counter. “Well, I wasn’t.” He reached out and tapped the lid of the cup still on the counter.
Ioder picked up the coffee and immediately saw that the side of the cup didn’t have his name, but a truly impressive amount of graffiti for the short amount of time that Yuri had been handling the simple drink. There was a cartoonish drawing of Yuri’s winking face—recognizable only by the cascade of dark hair that fell from the moon-round head—and an arrow that pointed to the small hole in the lid. Yuri had scrawled I took a sip for an indirect kiss xx under the face and arrow, and beneath the whole tableau was the neatest string of numbers Ioder had ever seen written on a curved surface.
“No,” Ioder said, “not subtle at all.” He smiled and raised the cup to his lips, holding Yuri’s smiling gaze as he took a long sip.
***
First Debate: Heurassein Leads the Pack, Dominates Veteran Politician Dinoia on Capua Torim stage
By Bruno Yeager, Guild Beat
The young leader had some tricks up his sleeve during the Wednesday night debate—will Dinoia recover in time for the Weccean primary?