"I won't just sign it—I'll sign it with a gold pen! I'll sign it faster than anyone!"
"Because my principle, Ron Smith's principle, is that the survival of the Erie People trumps any and all bullshit partisan politics!"
His words landed like a series of heavy punches, striking everyone in the heart.
The animosity born from their political differences began to crumble in the face of the naked logic of survival.
When it came to putting food on the table, what did ideologies matter?
As long as they could get the money back, as long as the factories could reopen, what did it matter who they worked with?
The look in the people's eyes began to change.
Suspicion gave way to a sort of tacit approval, even a sense of longing.
They were desperate for Smith to keep up his hard-line stance, desperate for him to actually bring that money back, no matter the cost.
Smith looked at their faces and knew he had cleared this hurdle.
But he needed to stoke the flames one last time.
