She’s bartending. He’s drunk.
She’s shaking the martini. He’s biting the olive off the stick from the last one.
She’s wearing tight pants and a well-fitted shirt. Button-down. She’s working for tips after all. He wants to give her the tip. Maybe a little more.
She’s droning on about wanting to do something more with her life. He’s barely listening, but catches a political reference. He sees his in: “We need more people like you in our government.” She smiles, and turns wistfully: “You think?” “Yeah, I’d give you might vote,” he says, hoping to give her more.
Rinse and repeat every night for a couple months.
And that’s how Cortez became a Congresswoman.