Little Bush looked up, gazing at Rove, his eyes no longer filled with anger or fear, but with an almost absurd disappointment and deep resentment.
"Organization... incite…" he repeated these two words softly, as if talking to himself, "My father dedicated his life to serving the country, and in the end..."
His voice was a little choked, but he forcibly suppressed it.
"I am just trying to hold this country together. Why? Why in their eyes have I become a sinner that must be purged?"
He suddenly stood up from his chair, his emotions visibly spiraling out of control for the first time. He walked to the window, turning his back to Rove, his shoulders slightly trembling.
"Every day I wake up facing a bankrupt treasury, rebellious states, invading armies, and a Congress that stabs me in the back! I am doing my utmost to stabilize this sinking ship! But them?! What are they doing? Inciting hatred! Planning assassinations! Do they think killing me would solve everything? Huh?!"
