Thursday, 10:00 PM. Capitol Hill.
The bar was called The Hawk & Dove, a dimly lit, wood-paneled establishment located just a few blocks from the Capitol building. It was the kind of place where the beer was overpriced, the lighting was intentionally poor to hide the identities of the patrons, and the air was thick with the smell of expensive cologne and cheap political ambition.
It was the unofficial living room for the junior staff of the United States Senate.
Ethan sat at a corner booth, a half-empty glass of scotch in front of him. He was wearing his tailored linen suit, looking effortlessly handsome and completely at ease. He had been here for three hours, buying rounds of drinks, laughing at terrible jokes, and seamlessly blending into the ecosystem of overworked, underpaid twenty-somethings who actually ran the government.
