In a luxuriously furnished office, a tall handsome man sat behind the dark mahogany desk peering down at a stack of documents, his expression gloomier than the weather on a rainy day.
His grim look made even the bright light streaming in from the floor to ceiling window appear out of place.
When Johnson pushed open the door to the President's office, he was immediately engulfed by the melancholic atmosphere.
He stood still, hesitating for a moment, not sure whether he should go back out or say something.
"Speak," ordered Shawn, without even bothering to look up from the pile of documents before him.
"Sir, it's about old Mrs Hudson."
Shawn's head jerked up from the documents he was reading towards Johnson's direction. He had an apprehensive look as he inquired, "What about her?"
"The butler just called and said that the old lady's health had deteriorated and she's been rushed to the theater to be revived."
