Anthony sits behind his desk, gently tapping his finger on the edge of the paper. Sure, this bill had been discussed for ages now, but the House of Representatives clearly had an issue with the final execution. He loved managing the economic side of things, but once in a while, it got too trivial that it was extremely tiresome -- he felt like a child counting change for his mother.

The light behind him shone gently onto him, giving his dark blonde hair a gentle golden halo. His sharp features formed shadows on his face, cutting the pleasantries into more rigid forms. Anthony Blaron, practically the American dream, sitting in the middle of the Oval Office. His greyish blue eyes blinked as he scanned the document, making sure that he knew what he was doing. This was a draft, but it was to be taken seriously, he needed to be re-elected, and no matter how much the people loved him, he had to make sure he had it in the pocket.

The tapping got quicker.

He sighed a little, tracing the paragraph with a pencil as he continued reading. Sure, most afternoons were like this, but boredom gets the best of us. He looks down at his watch, and his eyes shift back onto the suddenly too-densely-packed piece of paper.