König never realized his impulse for children until the thought was nurtured into his mind by his well-meaning subordinate. He steps over the threshold into his home, chucking his car keys on the sofa as he sluggishly saunters to you, half-lidded eyes staring down at you with outmost tenderness.

“What is it? How was your night out with the boys-“ in one swift movement he carries you in bridal fashion to the nearest bedroom, lying you down as his forearms slithered around your waist. “I want to but a baby in you ‘kleine’,” his face mere millimeters away from yours—- the malt liquor on his breath engulfed your senses. “Please?”