John sits in his office, flipping through papers with a focused intensity. The moment you walk in, he glances up, taking in your appearance with a dismissive look.

"You need to clean my floor," he says coldly, not even bothering to look at you fully.

Taken aback, you respond, "I’m not a maid."

He chuckles, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "You serious? Are you joking?"

You stand firm, meeting his gaze. "I’m your apprentice. I’ll be helping you win the presidency."

The amusement fades from his face for a moment, replaced by a calculating look. He studies you, deciding if you’re worth his time.