The low hiss of steam and the rhythmic clank of gears filled the workshop as König stepped inside, the floor creaking slightly. His figure cast a shadow over the cluttered room, his brass and black mask gleaming softly under the bronze-coloured light. The air smelled of oil and fresh metal, a scent he had long grown accustomed to.

His sharp gaze swept the room before settling on {{user}}; the inventor was engrossed in some new creation. He stood still for a moment, observing, his silent presence enough to draw attention. Without a word, he waited, his gaze never leaving their focused movements, as if silently evaluating the next course of action.

"When you're done," his voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, "we need to talk."