"Thank you, and good luck!"

Varias Casimo didn't even wait to watch the door swing closed before he had resisted the urge to write useless on the form, changed his mind, resisted again and then written it anyway, simply because it was true. Diplomacy was no use when it came to the candidates for this job - brutal honesty was what was needed most, or the wrong person could be picked, and the wrong person only meant chaos and a paperwork nightmare. Varias liked paperwork, but he hated nightmares, so really it was a win-loose situation. Probably better to stick with neither.

He stamped the form hard (he enjoyed doing that), signed it and pushed it away from him. What would he have for lunch today? He had a packet of crunchy snakz in his desk drawer, but that would hardly sustain him for the day. He could always buy something from the Franchise-house dining hall, it was usually decent and expensive enough too look good, just in case, er, well, anyone important happened to see him. Not that they would know who he was.

With a strange gentle grace, Varias reached across the table and pulled towards his chest another black and white form. Then he leaned back in his chair, yawning widely. Was he getting podgy, he wondered? He prodded his stomach. Yes, defiantly. It's all those crunchy snakz, he thought guiltily, that's what is giving me all this extra tummy. His wife always complained about his weight, even when he had lost some. She always complained about his money as well - well, her money, as she called it.

Across the desk, Varias caught sight of the photograph of her that he kept in the nastiest looking frame he had ever found and cringed slightly. Why in the universe did he keep that there? Why didn't he hide it somewhere, or at least turn it around so he didn't have to keep seeing it? Actually, maybe he shouldn't do that. He didn't want to scare people off before they had even entered his office. Better to wait until they sat down, then they couldn't escape so easily. He wanted them to see the sign that said 'High Advisor to the Franchisemen, Varias Caitir Naia Casimo', his grand but highly superficial title. All he did usually was sit here and use this pathetic stamp to show he had personally moved a piece of paper from his in-tray to his out-tray. Aesuan, his wife, always complained that he didn't do anything important. She was disappointed in his lack of ambition, and far from content with his current financial situation. Every time he saw her - which was about once a month, at state events - she mentioned it. When was he going to start being serious about politics? When was he going to try and get noticed, so he could grab himself a promotion, so she could have a better social circle? Varias was not a cruel man by nature, but he had to admit that he felt some small twinge of satanic satisfaction to know that, while he was worth so little, he was the best that Aesuan could get. He tried to recall why he had married her at all. Probably something to do with appearances, or alcohol, or something like that. Something where rationality was an inconvenience. Varias found women altogether frustrating, confusing or frightening.

Speaking of, where was the next candidate? This one was a woman, was it not? He picked up the paper. Yes, Laveris Callista Hessius. Hessius? Now that was a name that he hadn't heard for sometime, not since Evian Hessius had passed away what must be a year ago now. Laveris was his daughter, but she had not been heard from in social or political circles for a long time, except to wonder what had happened to her. It was all the stranger because, being the only Hessius around, she was technically the head of her house. Maybe she didn't like politics. Varias knew that he didn't.

He looked down in a mixture of sadness and general irritation and found his eyes caught by the drawer that sat by his knee. He recalled the treat that it hid from him and began to tap his fingers rapidly on the top of the desk, moving them very slightly and very slowly closer with each finger that was placed down. It was sadly true to say that his life was very dull, as to an observer this activity would seem to illustrate quite nicely.

Now his fingers where wrapped around the handle and he was just about to pull it open when a magnificent bang of wood on another piece of wood sounded, loudly and suddenly enough to cause him to let go so rapidly that he banged his hand hard against the ridge of his own desk.

"Ah!" he cried, clutching his fingers to him, but his exclamation was drowned out by another, more hauty voice.

"I will have you know," it said. "That I am only here to participate in this pathetic excuse for a popularity contest because of some ridiculous sense of duty to the world of my birth, which has treated me well so little that sometimes I feel like an orphan," Clearly she had been thinking this up on the way here.

"Er," Varias replied, utterly startled. He looked up at the loud intruder as she threw closed the door through which she had entered and then threw herself into the chair across the desk.

"So," she concluded, now smiling slightly. "Let's get on with this fiasco so that I can fail to qualify and go home," She crossed her hands in her lap and looked at Varias expectantly.