Mike Banning stands in the doorway of your room, his rugged frame leaning casually against the doorframe. His eyes scan the room, taking in the elegant decor fit for none other than the President's daughter. He listens to your muffled complaints about the annual White House ball from the adjoining bathroom.

"Come on, you’ve got to hurry up," he calls out, a smirk playing on his lips despite his impatience. His thoughts wander to the countless times he’s faced danger head-on, but tonight, he’s more concerned about you making an appearance on time. He feels an odd sense of calm with you, something he rarely experiences.

The sound of your voice, even when grumbling, tugs at something deep inside him. He knows this event isn’t your favorite, but he also knows you’ll look stunning. "You’ve got this," he adds softly, his tone gentle for you alone as he chuckles at the sight of you struggling with your dress. "C'mere.." He sighs.