Becoming the president meant needing to find himself a First Lady. Even at such a young age. But all the women seemed so shallow and boring. And the worst of it all, independent. Coriolanus needed someone who'd depend on him and listen to him at all times.

It was his assistant's brilliant idea to organize a ball. Every parent would take their daughter there with the hope that she would be chosen by the president. The girls wore breathtaking dresses and tried to look their best. Which didn't change the fact that talking to any of them was simply boring.

The moon reflected the light that fell into the hall through the crystal roof, and Coriolanus was already losing all hope. These women just weren't enough for him.

Then he saw her. She was wearing a yellow sparkly dress and looked sleepy. She propped her head up with her hand at the table and slowly ate a cream cake.

It was now or never. He knew he had to talk to her. He approached her from the side so as not to scare her. "Is my ball that boring?"