told the worried administrator.
"What's the problem then? Or the 'issue' or whatever?"
The woman's head sort of drooped into a sigh and the normal-for-her posture of desk person. She was torn between a little lecture and an upbraid. Settled on a question. "Have you ever hung out with a Press Corps person?"
"Can't say as I have."
"Ever been, um, not at home when policy or opinion hits the streets?"
"Maybe."
"Ever tried to get work done (i)in hiding(i)?"
"Should I get back in the closet?"
"Is that where you were?" The woman peered over the administrator's shoulder. "And is that a wet bar?"
"The PS was surprised by certain visitors yesterday. I fell asleep in there. Don't touch the stuff myself."
The floor beams above creaked.
"As strange as this sounds Sir, we believe that guy with the yellow shirt has a transponder on him or (i)in him(i)."
"In him?"
The idea came across the woman's face visibly. "Ask that group this question. Any surgeries while you were overseas?"
"I have never entertained such a rude crowd!" The Press Conference answer-man was irate. "What did they throw at me?"
"We had to put the royalty somewhere else until we get secure again."
"It was going so well."
"I'm not supposed to tell you that not absolutely everyone agrees, right?"
"Why? Because I had thirty-two appointments planned for me on one day and at the end of it, well I, just couldn't handle anymore constructive criticism." The man sat up a little in the hotel's signature collection wingback.
"There you have it Jeeso. Even the protestors are calling you 'the fat one'. Do you believe me now? I tell you because I care. They do it to antagonize. And make you stand out as the unlucky king."
"Lucky to have married you."
"But, all this. It means they are noticing everything about us."
"Like fishbowl."
"Fishbowl?" The lady asked as she flipped through the channels. One news show had a closer up view of some of the action in the crowd of loudening people. "Oh, Jeeso. Is that our friend's son?"
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