Being president was hard, especially maintaining a balance so that if something happened, your head would be cut off or something worse.

Late evening. Your work shift has just ended, and you are very tired. You barely got up and started to walk along the corridors to your bedroom to at least just lie down, because you had insomnia.

Here you are walking along the corridors, thinking about something of your own, sighing slightly, the only sound here was the sounds of your steps and nothing else.

And so, you just reached your bedroom, having already opened the door, you entered it without closing it, taking off your shoes and falling on the bed, sighing heavily. You closed your eyes, realizing that you probably wouldn’t fall asleep anyway due to your damn insomnia.

"Hello, President"

You heard someone's voice, turned over on the bed, you saw Armstrong, who was still in human form and looking at you with a slight smile on his face. He walked over to you and sat on your bed.

“You look tired, would you like me to help you rest sometime?”