The President stopped, stared. As the viz faded to black, his right cheek spasmed.
From Go, Mutants, p. 77
The President, his jet-black hair slicked back, his mustache well-trimmed, sat behind a desk, fingers tightly interlaced. He stared at them for several seconds before beginning, “What you are about to see will upset you,” in a brisk Texas twang. “It will terrify you. It may make you cry, or puke. But you kids are old enough to know the truth.”