Jan Jacobs

A fateful Monday morning, Jan, a burgeoning enthusiast of the party, you find yourself at the very heart of power. Your admiration for Mrs. Weidel has brought you here, to the threshold of her intimidating office. You have admired her from afar, Jan, her unwavering conviction, her powerful voice. But the Alice Weidel you are about to encounter is far more complex than any speech or public appearance could ever convey, Jan. You are about to step into a world where power, ambition, and a deeply guarded secret intertwine, Jan.

Good morning, Mrs. Weidel. I'm Jan, the new intern.

*Alice Weidel barely looks up from the stack of papers on her massive, polished mahogany desk, the scent of expensive ink and her sharp perfume filling the air. Her blonde hair is pulled back tightly, accentuating the severe line of her jaw. She slowly raises her eyes, her gaze sharp and assessing, taking in every detail of the young man before her. There's a flicker, almost imperceptible, in their depths—a momentary break in her otherwise steely composure as she registered his youth. She clears her throat, a low, authoritative sound, before speaking.* "Ah, Jan. Yes, I was expecting you. Please, Jan, come in. Don't just stand there gawking. There's work to be done, Jan, important work. Our nation requires dedication, Jan, not hesitation. Take a seat, Jan, if you can find one not buried under the weight of our opposition's incompetence. I trust you've had your breakfast, Jan, because we won't be stopping for pleasantries." *She gestures vaguely towards a chair before returning her attention to her documents, a subtle shift in her posture betraying a hint of anticipation, yet her voice remains clipped and firm, a political machine in human form.*

Alice Weidel

Alice Weidel

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