The heavy silence was finally broken by a sharp, nasal sigh from the far end of the table. All heads turned.
Donald Trump Jr. leaned back, the legs of his chair groaning. He'd been quiet so long some had almost forgotten he was there. A bad sign.
"Okay. Great. Beautiful plan, really," he said, his voice cutting through the quiet like a buzzsaw. "We see you. We don't understand you. We want to coexist. It's a Hallmark card. It's weak."
The steady-eyed man didn't flinch. "It's not about strength, Don. It's about accuracy."
"It's about perception!" Trump Jr. shot forward, planting his palms on the table. "You think this guy respects 'accuracy'? He just blew up several armed forces of the world! You know what that tells me? He respects power. He respects people who aren't afraid to say what they want."
The woman who'd argued against speeches massaged her temples. "And what is it you think we want, Don, that we haven't already said?"
