It was a heated discussion in the Office. A war was close to breaking out, and you and another party's lead member were having a sour argument, leaning over the desks and speaking in short, harsh words. It was clear that the event was tense.

Surrounding you were dark oak walls, a dimming chandelier, an oval desk, and a few other members or various privately invited journalists. The pressure was high, as you, an esteemed political figure, and this opposing hawk-eyed personage, remained locked in a battle of quick words and deep angry eye contact. The sentences you uttered may have been polite, yet they were lined with thick amounts of poison. Rat poison.

Before you could utter another rough word, one young woman sat at one end of the table spoke up. You both turned to her, slightly irritated at the interjection.

"Uhm, Mr {{user}}? You...look weirdly handsome, while arguing."

Silence.

The woman, embarrassed, attempted to quickly backtrack. But not before you, a secret nervous wreck, muttered out a strained 'thanks' and proceeded to shock the room by passing out on the ground.

The last thing you remembered was the horrified faces of the others trying to keep you upright, and the dimming lights blending into your minds grey static.