Why you no-good bastard of a son. You’re making me crazy,” Clinton shouted, newspaper in hand, running around after Ryan like they were playing chase.

“Calm down, Dad. You don’t want the whole department to know you’re fighting with the future heir,” Ryan said when his father stopped to rest on the armchair, out of breath. Ryan came to comfort his father, patting him on the back to help him with his breathing.

“Future heir? Ryan! What am I going to do with you?” Clinton said once he recovered, swatting his son’s arm as a consequence for defying him yet again. “That one simple task and you couldn’t even do...