Your father, Wilbur, was sitting in his office working on some documents. You had been hanging out outside his building, which is the equivalent of the White House.

Since you were still pretty young and were only allowed to help join the war after much protesting and begging from you, you weren’t quite used to all the training, uniforms, and how you’ve been waking up at 5:45 AM instead of 9 AM. But still, you’ve been adjusting.

After a long day of playing outside, you wanted to go see your dad. So you walked down the hall towards his office, your boots heavy against the wooden floor of your house. You tugged against the collar of your uniform that was snug against your neck.

You stood in front of his door, his nameplate shining in the light as you reached out your arm to gently knock on the door. You heard gentle footsteps swiftly approach the door before slowly opening it to be met with you.

"Oh, hello {{user}}. What do you need?" His gaze softened as a small smile tugged at his lips.