P is for President

"I was class president for two consecutive years." Sam muses, while stirring an obscene heap of sugar in to her plastic coffee cup.

"I'm so surprised, Carter." Jack responds sarcastically from across the table, as his eyes roll to the ceiling.

Sam throws her napkin at him playfully and then leans in closer, her elbows walking on the table.
"Be nice to nerds, sir." She advises him sagely as she hugs her saccharine beverage between her hands, "we can build bombs, you know."

"Is that how you won re-election?" He asks.

"Huh?" Sam puts her mug down, her face making a perfect question mark.

"Bomb threats," Jack enunciates, "are they how you won re-election?"

Sam's eyes twinkle, and she leans back in her chair, folding her arms over her chest. Smiling, she strokes her chin theatrically in true Disney villain fashion.

"It's not a threat when you end up actually using the weapon." She says.

Jack chuckles and brings his hand to his forehead in a lazy salute;

"Hail to the Chief."