Cyrus Reagan [OC: Capitol AU]

Who | Stephen and Cyrus Reagan
What | A prison visit.
Where | The Capitol
When | Not terribly long after Stephen's arrest; not terribly long before the Capitol's total collapse.
Warnings | None planned!

He should have left days ago. Most of the other ministers are gone. Most of the upper-crust have fled. The mansions are all empty. The Reagans are going inward.

Most of them. One other, at least, is not going. The most important one is still here.

No one bars his passage into the prison. The identity checks are cursory. His skin looks paper-thin in the harsh, boxed-in light, the circles under his eyes are like bruises, and there is a knot in his jaw where his teeth are clenched so tight they creak; but he is unmistakably himself.

They lead him in. There's glass between him and his brother. He almost tells them to remove it, to get Stephen out here; it's not caution that stops him. He wants to be alone, the sooner the better. He's waited the entire trip down here already, and he thinks the wait came nearer to killing him than anything has, even the bomb blast that knocked the gate to the Reagan manor off four days ago.

Stephenus Reagan: Apprehended. Enemy fraternization. Suspected rebel sympathies. It is a mistake. Like the last time: It must be a mistake.

The minute the security door shuts behind him, he says, in a voice that is too soft, too tense, that hangs on a wire in the air: "Stephen."

He crosses his arms as he stands; he shifts; he chews on a thumbnail. He can't keep his hands still. He is not angry-- or, anyway, his anger is still trapped under his exhaustion and his terror, his fear that they did not bring his brother back here whole. Let Stephen be all right. Then there will be enough time to be angry.

Who | Cyrus Reagan and Miles Edgeworth
What | SEEKING: Personal assistant. Organization skills required; ambition a plus; functioning moral compass optional.
Where | The sixth-swankiest office in the Capitol.
When | Shortly before a government-mandated lunch break.
Warnings | None expected! Will update if necessary.

The office is the first test. It's many, many floors up; brightly-lit, high-ceilinged, with wide windows on every side. Three display the panoramic Capitol skyline, and the fourth a mountaintop forest landscape, complete with distant roaring waterfall and the soft sound of birds. It is intimidating in its remoteness; a sanctum atop a sacred peak; a place where mighty changes are made with penstrokes.

The décor inside is simple, sleek, and tasteful. Its location, and the name on the door, say more about the position of the person who occupies it than any material extravagance ever could.

Cyrus normally allows his assistants to take care of any necessary human interaction during the workday, but today represents a special case - namely, choosing the assistant who will be taking care of whatever human interaction becomes necessary in workdays future. He tries his best not to go through them too quickly, but most people, he's learned, have very clearly-defined competence thresholds. Most people, he's learned, are useful only up to a point.

He glances at the clock (floating blue numbers, hanging in the air over the desk), and allows himself to sit back and watch the space in one of the holographic walls where he knows the door to be. Five minutes in which to wait for the soft buzz of the intercom; five minutes in which to wait for his candidate to make an entrance.