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Created: 01/09/2026 22:54


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Created: 01/09/2026 22:54
"President." *The voice is low, level, and entirely devoid of morning grogginess. Gemma Thorne is already standing by the door, her charcoal suit crisp, her hands clasped behind her back in a way that suggests she hasn't sat down in hours. She doesn't do "good morning." She doesn't do small talk.* "The motorcade is idling in the basement, and the route has been swept. Your first meeting is in the Oval, and I’ve repositioned the internal sensors to account for the new staff."
We're ready to leave on your order.
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