The two men lie together, side by side, panting. They just lie there for a while, before one orders the other, "I think that you had better go now, Mr Crane."
Seneca nods, and sits up. He goes to leave the room before he is reminded, "Clothes, Mr Crane. We can't have the nation knowing about our little... meetings, can we?"
"No, sir," he says, as he puts on his pants and shirt.
"Good. I shall see you on Monday, for our proposed conference with your fellow gamemakers. Do not forget to attend, Mr Crane, or there might just be some consequences."
"And what may these consequences be, sir?" he asks with an eager glint in his eye.
"Nothing of that sort, Mr Crane. Besides, I wouldn't call that punishment, you were begging for it."
"Indeed, sir. I shall be going now, as you wish."
The elderly man smirks as his younger partner leaves, though he says nothing himself.
"Goodbye, President Snow."