My Love; My Life: Slipping Through My Fingers

Agent: F

*just to clarify so as to not offend anyone or be reported for lord only knows what stupid reason one might have: not all of Hyla's beliefs are the same as mine, so please do not harass me in comments or messages over what I write in terms of her thoughts & beliefs-thank you, DamagedFantasy.*
Setting: end of July 2042-White House, Oval Office; Hyla sits at the desk rereading the letter sent by her future-past self...

"Madam President ya can't go flyin off like that just cause a person ain't done ta the phone," he scolds her, "just cause yer the President ain't mean ya can go round doin what ya wanna! Yer constantly concerned bout public image: makin sure ya don't drink, workin yerself sick ta make it better country-"

"Ave ya caught the person that made a tempt on my life yet?" She cuts him off

"No, ain't been a trace of em or the gun they used."

"Fine," she sighs out, "oh, n...I'm sorry-or whatever," she adds in sounding like she doesn't actually mean it

"If yer gonna apologize," he starts sounding irritated, "y'all could at least mean it!"

"What-ever," she repeats nonchalantly in a sing song voice-still sounding like she doesn't really mean it or care

"What'd I just say?!" He snaps at her

"Yeah, yeah," she tells him with a yawn, "so update me on certain projects."

"Mm," he hums before going to shut the doors & locks every escape route accept for one before making sure the room isn't bugged with any hidden cameras or audio devices, "where do ya wanna start?"

"Any new info on the two agents?" She asks him, "n any interestin info ta possibly line up with the letter?"

"I found no records on either agent E or C," he tells her, "which is interestin in itself-"

"N why's that?"

"Cause I ain't ever found a file on myself either," he tells her

"..." she looks to him now more interested in what he has to say than she was before, "interestin," she says as she rests her chin on her locked fingers, "three agents without files..." she contemplates, "question is-do they actually not ave files, ave they been miss place or somethin?"

"Ain't sure," he tells her with a sigh, "I'll look inta it more thoroughly later."

"Thank y'all F," she tells him, "anythin in possibile relations the letter?"

"Not yet madam President," he tells her, "but I'll notify y'all as soon as I do."

"Thank ya F," she repeats before her voice becomes dark toned, "gimme an update on the war."

"Well, as y'all know," he starts, "there's been a great deal of casualties on both sides?"

"Trust me," she sighs heavily as she recalls the list of deaths holding her cousin's name, "I know."

"Well, despite this fact," he continues, "our forces are makin headway," he goes on, "the Russian royals are grateful for our aid n the grand duke would like ta thank ya personally once this is all over by invitin ya ta the imperial winter palace n give ya a grand tour."

"Let's win the war first," she tells him with a slight, awkward laugh

"Are we gonna kill the current dictator or what're we doin with 'im?"

"We could always dump em where Bonaparte was exiled ta or somethin..."

"Somehow," he starts, "I-ain't think Canada's gonna want 'im."