[ He makes a strangled half-noise and twitches forward, spilling his coffee in a brown fan across the speckled table top.

Sam takes a moment to gather himself before he scoots sideways and twists so he's not looking directly into the eyes of the guy leaning into his space. ] That's an excellent question, and one I would love to find an answer to. Unfortunately, no one else seems willing to provide one, or even to tell me where the president is except to say that he's probably in the White House, Sam, take it easy now and rest up until you feel better.

[ He picks up a napkin and drops it on the coffee mess before it can spread too far, attempting to corral the liquid as the napkin gets soaked through. ] Who are you please.