Had the President been looking in that direction, he'd have been on his guard. As it was, he was occupied in morose thoughts about a useless day spent in attempts to build peace between parties whose proclamations that they wanted peace were the shallow gleam of decomposition on top of sewage. The rot underneath was hatred, the desire for self-aggrandizement and gain, and a determination to plunge deeper into the vortex of revenge, all the while swearing that it was self-defense, patriotism, redress for wrongs, service to some deity, or some other age-old excuse. The ones who believed these lies were the most dangerous of all, self-righteously impervious to sane appeals.

He jumped as a whisker tickled the back of his neck, and then Megaera arranged herself, feather boa-style, along his neck, nuzzling into his ear and rumbling a throaty purr against his ear. An instant later, Tisiphone was in his lap, paws planted on his chest as she rubbed her head under his chin, with an air of total absorption, occasionally breaking off to bestow a quick lick, and Alecto was insinuating herself under his hand so that it rested on her softest belly fur.

"Okay, ladies, I get it," he murmured, "I get it."

He knew that this attempt to bring some cheer and comfort was sincere.

They'd waited until after he'd gone to the bathroom.

AN: A season and new year of peace and sanity to us all.

LC