With the girl's eyes closed, an ear-shattering, thunderous screech of what sounded like a bald eagle. Accompanied by it, the chorus of flapping which filled the air, no softer than the strident scream that acted as its prelude. Amassed above the summoning circle, a large flock of bald eagles all clumped together into a vaguely humanoid shape. As the spell neared its closing, the birds dispersed, seeming to dematerialize as they left the circle, leaving the room covered in black and white feathers. Standing at the center of the circle, with proud and solemn bearing, the visage of a young man with long, red hair and a suit. In his right hand, the barrel of a matchlock rifle, the wooden stock posted on the ground.

Through his nose, the man took his first breath. With his left foot, he took his first step. His hand picked up his rifle, switching with his left as his right slid down to the wooden rifle grip. The barrel was pointed down, away from the girl. The man cracked his neck to the left and to the right. His shoulders rolled back and forth, popping into place.

The revived president looked around, still in his circle, as if searching for someone taller, though only seeing the girl in front of him. The servant kicks around his summoning circle before sauntering out of it, rifle held in hand. He held his right arm over his rifle, keeping it stable against his body as his left hand reached out. His palm pressed gently against the girl's cheek.

Then, with a short back-swing, he slapped the girl across the face. "How 'bout put on some clothes?" he barked, southern drawl hanging heavily on his words. "I don't see nobody else 'round, unless you wizards can turn invisible. Ain't nobody bossin' me around in their underwear."