"Well, I shall be the President, so perhaps it'll be me they're jealous of," he says, talking away in order to try and subdue any residual nerves that might be lingering. He's managed to cope with the worst of them and he's grateful for the kiss she lays on him as it gives him something to do immediately, threading his fingers through her hair.

"God, Grace," he blasphemes happily. "You're wonderful."