Downfall

People Are Strange

Chapter Three

People Are Strange

Cyrus paced furiously in front of his desk, a fierce glare in his eyes. His hands worked intently at pulling the thin cap of hair on his head until his hair stuck out at every end, resembling a modern-day, pudgy Albert Einstein. He finally dropped his hands from his head and began furiously pulling at the black tie around his neck, loosening the constraining article and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his white shirt.  

"We're losing him," He announced, stopping to look at the younger brunette seated behind his desk calmly drinking her coffee and making notes on a sheet of paper. To anyone who would have happened to glance in, Mellie appeared almost relaxed – unruffled by Cyrus's outbursts.

"How the hell are you so calm?" Cyrus stopped by the far wall, looking at Mellie with stupefied amazement. Cyrus wasn't alone in his desire to turn Fitz into governor to gain all the power and accolades that came with any association to the most powerful man in the state. If there was anyone who wanted Fitz to succeed more than Cyrus did – it was Mellie.

"I'm not worried." Her almost cheery disposition caused Cyrus to groan in frustration as he contemplated going on another rage fueled rant. He knew Mellie wasn't stupid and she generally was fantastic at observing the actions of others. It was what made her such a formidable opponent.

"He practically told me that he didn't want us touching his interview." Mellie's gaze snapped to where Cyrus stood at that comment. Her blue gaze narrowed with unadultered rage.

"When was this?" She demanded, setting her mug down with such ferocity that the red glass nearly shattered upon the impact. A large crack formed from top to bottom though not deep enough to render the mug out of commission. Nonetheless, it became the subject of Cyrus's line of sight as he answered Mellie's question.

"Yesterday. When he was thirty minutes late. He..."

"He was thirty minutes late?" Cyrus winced at her high-pitched squeal before begrudgingly nodding his head. "Why was I told that technical difficulties were to blame for the delay?"

"Who told you that?" It was becoming clear to both Cyrus and Mellie that they were not on the same page. In fact, it was looking more and more as if they weren't even in the same book.

"Lysa." She named one of the several people who were volunteering for Fitz's campaign and a look of unabashed rage marred her features as she uttered the one syllable name. Cyrus scrunched his brows at the information. What reason would Lysa have to lie to Mellie?

"Alright. Tell me all you know and I'll tell you what I know." He ran a wrinkled hand over his weathered face and slumped into the black leather chair placed in front of his desk.

"That is all I know." Mellie leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms under her voluminous breasts, silently demanding that Cyrus share all he knows.

"Like I said, he showed up late. He was practically skipping. I don't think I need to mention how unFitz-like that was. His comment to my telling him he was late was that thirty less minutes for the two of us to have our hands on his interview made him feel a lot better." Cyrus ended his tale and waited for all the information to sink into Mellie's mind.

"Why would he say that?" She finally broke her silence to ask.

"Why would he be late or have Lysa lie to you?" Cyrus chose to answer her question with some of his own.

"Something strange is going on. Fitz is typically a lot more complacent," Mellie observed. For the past several years, since Fitz's father had forced him to first run for representative, he had allowed advisors to do his job. Fitz hadn't wanted to run for public office and once he did, he preferred to stay in the background, finding it easier to let Mellie do most of the work.