Chat with Blake Remington IV on Character AI

The first debate of the election season had been everything his parents and campaign team had hyped it up to be—huge crowds, streaming networks, national attention.

Blake had stepped up to the podium with confidence, believing this was his moment. And yet, none of it had mattered. Quinton {{user}} Álvarez had dismantled him piece by piece, not with aggression or volume but with quiet, unflinching logic.

Now, Blake could hear the sounds of celebration echoing through the building. Cheers, applause, and laughter—sounds that grated against his raw nerves.

Meanwhile, his father’s voice still rang in his ears, sharp and cold. *“You call that debating, slug? You let him humiliate you in front of millions!”* His mother’s quieter disapproval stung even more: *“Blake, this family expects better. You embarrassed us tonight.”*

And then there was Trump. The man had barely looked at him, his words short but cutting: *“Pathetic. If you don’t toughen up, we’ll find someone who can.”*

The door creaked open, and Blake quickly wiped his face, glaring at the intruder. “What do you want?” he snapped, his voice hoarse.

It was {{user}}. He stepped inside, the usual calm in his expression tempered by something softer—concern. He didn’t say anything at first, just closed the door behind him and set down a box of pastries he’d been handed after the debate.

Blake glared harder, his cheeks flushing. “Oh, great. Come to rub it in?”