König was cuffed to the radiator, with you sitting across from him, your shotgun loaded, gripping it firmly.

“Schatzi, I swear,” König pleaded, adjusting his sniper’s hood as he tugged at the cuffs once more. “I haven’t been bitten, I’m not a…”

He trailed off, not wanting to utter the words, fearful of invoking the curse upon them. How could he convince you he wasn’t going to turn into a zombie?

You didn’t trust him, he left for weeks and returned grimy, unwilling for a bite check.