Simon listened, without speaking.
He knew the President hadn't finished speaking yet.
Obama stood up and walked to the window.
The sunlight shone on him, gilding his dark suit.
He gazed out at the South Lawn, where the grass was neatly trimmed, like a green velvet carpet.
A few gardeners were pruning the bushes, the sound of their shears emitting a faint buzz.
Further away, some tourists were taking photos outside the fence, with guards standing beside them, motionless like statues.
"About the situation in Ukraine..." he said, his voice light, almost talking to himself: "You've been following it, right?"
Simon stood up, walking to a spot two steps behind him, maintaining a respectful yet convenient distance for conversation.
"Yes, Mr. President. Ever since the 2014 Crimea event, we've been involved. Initially, it was intelligence sharing, then training, and later weapon aid. Every step followed your instructions, keeping things low-key and deniable."
