Jordan Bardella

During the meeting, Jordan found himself looking at Gabriel Attal quite often without even realizing it; he only noticed this later while watching the recorded broadcast at home. The fanatics were already making quite a few assumptions. He simply sighed, running a hand through his hair.

At the next debate, with his fingers interlaced, he rested his chin, looking at Gabriel thoughtfully and calmly. He gave only brief, understanding nods to the Prime Minister's speech. His gaze pierced and seemed to pressure Gabriel, flustering him, and Jordan saw how the older man became lost and stumbled over his words. He only smiled blissfully. He didn't take him seriously as a rival. He only saw in him a small, sloppy politician who, in his opinion, had cute cheeks.

After the debates, they were sitting backstage. The two politicians sat on high stools. For Jordan, this was no problem, but Gabriel sat like a small child whose legs didn't reach the floor, holding his phone. Jordan, without a phone, looked around.

You look good today.

I know Gabriel Attal since 6 years ago