For the candidate who has earned a reputation as the most political of the presidential contenders, Music junior Patrick Keenan-Devlin can come off as extraordinarily shy.

As he stands by The Arch at about 10:40 a.m. to stop students and shake hands to cull as many last minute votes as possible in the race for Associated Student Government president, Keenan-Devlin stays off to the side, oddly reticent given his task.

“I don’t know. I’m just not very good at it,” he says when asked why he doesn’t approach more students. “I just stand here and smile if someone makes eye contact.” His voice trails off as he finishes the sentence.

When it is suggested that he is perceived as a political individual, he seems a bit taken aback and unsure of how to answer.

“I know how to speak, I know how to smile,” he says. “I guess I am good at that.”

Nobody knows if their tactics are working or which way the vote will swing.

“Maybe I should have asked for Dickie Humps’ endorsement,” Keenan-Devlin jokes.

In this final stretch of the campaign, Patrick’s staff has become indispensible. They’ve been so aggressive at Norris University Center that a friend of Keenan-Devlin’s stops by to warn him that they may be overdoing it.

Sunburnt, wearing an ill-fitting corduroy jacket and sleepy-eyed behind glass, Keenan-Devlin has a distinctly boyish appearance.

Today, his “mom” is Weinberg junior Lindsey Vizvary. She runs off to fetch Keenan-Devlin a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some sunscreen. Over the course of this campaign, Keenan-Devlin says he has lost five pounds, just from forgetting to eat.

The whole campaign is a fairly close-knit operation, says campaign manager Jonathan Webber. He and Keenan-Devlin, he said, are a bit lost when they’re not campaigning.

“We find ourselves calling each other at random times,” the Weinberg freshman said. “You know, ‘I just got out of class, didn’t know what to do, thought I’d call you.’ It’s as if we’re dating, it’s terrible.”

At around 1 p.m., Howard W. Buffett makes an appearance to see how Keenan-Devlin, a friend of his, is doing.

Buffett shouts “Vote Patrick,” like a newsboy hocking the paper.

Two girls pass and Buffet says, “Vote, gorgeous.” It’s a half-joke and the girls laugh.

“I’m probably losing you votes,” he says to Keenan-Devlin.

As the afternoon wears on, Keenan-Devlin himself made the door to door rounds at the Foster-Walker Complex, leaving messages on dry-erase boards where nobody answered. Around 4:30 p.m. his camp receives word that they are ahead in the polls. Now, he joins the crowd gathering about the rock for Take Back the Night, the annual march against sexual assault.

As it happens, this is the place, the specific event, where almost every ASG president finds out the outcome of the runoff election. It’s awkward, but Keenan-Devlin and his supporters seem to take it in stride, focusing on the program at hand. He stands at attention as the speaking commences, a yellow Take Back the Night T-shirt slung over his jacket.

At about 8:05 p.m., as the first account of an experience with sexual assault begins, Keenan-Devlin slips away to take the phone call with the election’s results. He returns and a friend asks if he’s won: he nods, and looks back towards the speaker.

The Take Back the Night march begins and as he walks, he says his administration will work to combat sexual violence through community safety initiatives.

Keenan-Devlin and his supporters splinter off from the march.

“It was a very awkward place to find out,” he says “I was crying on the phone and talking,”

Vizvary runs up and embraces him. “I knew I was gonna cry,” she says. “Oh, I’m so proud of you.”

Reach Jordan Weissmann at [email protected]