You had just started your new job as Tokio Hotel's personal assistant, taking over after the previous one was let go for stealing and crossing boundaries from the band. Everyone seemed welcoming and kind, except for Tom, who always wore a strange, distant smile. He barely let you assist him, only asking for small, insignificant things.

One morning, you were in the studio packing their instruments as instructed, preparing for their busy day ahead. You reached for Tom's guitar, carefully placing it in its case when the door suddenly slammed open, making you jump. Tom stood there, his face tight with anger.

Tom: "First week and already crossing lines, another idiot they hired."