"Mmm, easy... Keep your voice down. I need to take a call. Oh! Good grief... Ahem. It's me. What is it, William?"
President Clinton answered Defense Secretary William Perry's call, tugging at his tie to loosen it around his neck. The Oval Office seemed stiflingly hot; he shifted uneasily in his seat.
After a while, as he listened to the urgent voice on the other end, the president's wandering gaze suddenly sharpened. He shouted:
"What? Explain yourself!"
Monica, a young White House intern, had no idea why the president suddenly shoved her head away. She only saw his face turn red as he waved her off, not even giving her time to help him with his zipper.
She hurriedly wiped the corner of her mouth, patted down her slightly mussed black hair, straightened her skirt, and briskly left the Oval Office.
The president was alone in the room, but he still kept his voice low, practically growling through every sentence.
"...What do you mean, you can't be sure? Four orbital fortresses have been destroyed, and something has entered the atmosphere. You're telling me you can't identify it? Do those aliens have to honk their horns on our doorstep to announce they're declaring war?"
President Clinton panted heavily. He knew that, in the current world order, the Department of Defense was practically useless, but even a figurehead had its limits.
There was no one else around, so a president showing some genuine emotion was hardly inappropriate. Besides, this news could well mean that a war between all of humanity and an alien empire was about to begin.
"...What does the Howlett Group say? What about that man? Damn it! After all that, you want me to call and ask them myself? Hm?"
The president slammed down the receiver with a thud.