<strong>Location:</strong>The Ritz-Gospel Hotel (First Haven, Watcher’s Island). Elevator to Conference Hall 01<br/><strong>Date:</strong>5 January 2099. Monday<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Morning<br/><strong>Who:</strong>Tianran Jin<br/><br/><hr/><br/>When they told him that morning that he would be reporting for a press release, the first thing he did was inject himself with painkillers. If he wasn’t going to be flying today, he sure as hell wasn’t going to sit through a volley of inane questions<em>and</em>unmedicated pain.<br/><br/>This was not Tianran's first press release, nor would it be his last. He had been flying missions for ten years and until the arrival of the Shepherd siblings, had been a favorite in the PR department. His own ambivalence towards the public relations aspect of the Program was not a secret to anyone, but PR valued his ability to keep a straight face. Not once had he broken character on the mic stand, even when asked the most incisive questions about his allegiance to the Asian Union and his family.<br/><br/>Once they had asked, “Does it bother you that the Grigori Program is uninvolved in providing relief for food shortages? We have been told that your home region is heavily affected by the famine.”<br/><br/>“Pilots have no say in the Program’s allocation of manpower or resources. Those decisions are left to the council,” he had responded. The solemn, stern look on his face was replaced by a faint, polite smile by the time the next question rolled around. That was how he had gotten through these meetings for his whole life: just wear the same polite smile until somebody asked a question that deserved a punch in the face. Then wear nothing at all until it passed.<br/><br/>Indira’s concern was not directed at him, he knew. After working with her for so many years, he could usually read between the lines of what she said. If any of them were suffering from nerves, then they had better get it off their chests here, behind the scenes, rather than on camera. He glanced at Julie as she spoke, quietly appraising her.<br/><br/>He had never exchanged words with her, although this was not unusual, given his lack of involvement with the trainees. She seemed competent, if a bit green around the ears. At least she had some exposure to PR life, even if she had never flown before. Tianran had heard that she was involved in some of “those” PR photoshoots, the ones that dressed up the young and pretty trainees in an attempt to appeal to a younger group of potential enlistees. He was loath to admit that he had been on a few of those photo shoots himself, when he was a young trainee. While PR preferred the family-friendly, wholesome ads for prime time, the ads like Julie’s and Tianran’s had proven to have some success on college campuses. They certainly weren’t Indira’s favorites in the promotional portfolio, but they flew beneath the radar and raked in a good batch of soldiers every year.<br/><br/>She would do fine. Maybe. Tianran honestly didn’t know much about her other than what he had heard through the PR grapevine. When she made a joke, he snorted softly. She’d be lucky to have something so interesting happen.