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The rumor was Josh Lyman was the President's pet genius, and that he was borderline insane. Matt wasn't sure about either. He worked sixteen, eighteen hours in rumpled suits. His daemon was mangy looking - a vixen unkempt as Lyman himself. They found her unsettling.
He'd seen things in the military. Men whose daemons could wander miles off after traumas.
She hadn't grown a winter coat and New Hampshire was frigid. Josh left Alitha in the car to stay warm while he delivered a speech.
"Is that normal?"
Josh looked at the far off car, shrugged. "It's fine."
Very unsettling.