Paxton didn't respond immediately, reaching for his glass instead. He took a sip. This wasn't to buy time, but merely to work through the answers he wanted to give. I know the youngest Weatherby gives great head. That's how we became friends, really. He threw the election as a ploy for me to befriend you, and that's why we are here.
No. No throwing James under the bus. Wouldn't want to ruin his hair.
Paxton swallowed. "I know about as much of your family as could be gleaned from your Wikipedia article. You're wealthy, you're into horses, and you're the closest the US can get to having nobles." Paxton picked up his knife. "And as to why I'm here? Your son invited me."
He cut a piece off his fish. "I became friends with your son because he's valuable. Now, before you protest, I meant valuable in the sense that he's shrewd, intelligent and an excellent strategist. Funny, too. Gives as good as he takes." Paxton smiled. Wasn't that the truth. "And I didn't convince him of anything. Now, my turn? Why haven't you asked your son why he threw the elections?"