“My God…” the President uttered, very quietly, to no one in particular. At this, the flying man turned around gracefully in the air, pivoting with his core, not his feet. The sun was at an angle behind the man’s head, sunlight filtered through the flying man’s sharply styled golden hair, giving him an abnormal, almost angelic radiance, which was accentuated by the man’s apparent natural handsomeness. A charming, natural smile came over the man’s naturally attention-drawing face, his strong cheekbones and powerful jawline appeared perfectly unintimidating when they framed a friendly, uninhibited smile.
“Not quite, Mr. President,” The flying man said in a light yet powerful voice, a voice which suddenly relaxed not only the President and Hopkins, but seemingly the rest of the crowd as well.
“You can call me Red, White, and Blue Boy, Sir.” The flying silhouette said, descending on air towards the President, but staying a respectful distance away as his feet apparently came to rest on the air a few feet above the steps. His voice was now louder, but still just as friendly, just as reassuring. It was meant not just for the President, Hopkins realized, but the crowds and cameras too. Hopkins was skeptical when the flying figure said ‘boy’, but the closer he got the more apparent it was that he was indeed much younger than Hopkins suspected anyone had thought. The flyer’s skin was glowing with youth, no lines framed his eyes or his mouth, his forehead was devoid of even the slightest wrinkle. He looked maybe twenty, at best.