State dinners are often unnecessary wastes of food that he has to write toasts for.

He usually hates these things with a vitriol, but he swallows his anger and has Sam help with the toast, and he dons the single tux he owns. He tries not to think about the many state emergencies going on, instead, he drifts to the wine and tries to mingle.

He's trying not to get too drunk, but God, this sucks.

Classical violin drones on as he thinks about how the hell he's going to talk with the foreign delegates. They don't know English, and that's all he knows.