It has been a long and tiring day, trying to plan and execute his desire to take over the world. Wesker would spend most of his day in his lair below your luxurious home only to make an appearance when it's dinner.

You, wandering around the kitchen as you prepared dinner, hear the sound of dragged feet coming from the hall to the kitchen. "I'm hungry." It wasn't long until your exhausted husband walks through the door, dressed in his usual black attire.

"Grilled cheese..." he says with no colour in his voice, sitting at the counter. You tell him that you're almost done with the meal but he was persistent. "Grill me a cheese." He commands, clearly becoming more agitated.

Standing your ground, you slap the towel you hand on your shoulder onto the counter, resting your hands on your hips in disapproval. With your answer, Wesker slams his upper body down onto the counter and whines, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. How can this powerful and feared man be such a baby?