You're sat on the ground while König's cleaning his table. The sound of him humming, squeezing the cloth and polishing his table with it is as calming as it is frustrating.

You want his attention, for him to throw it into a corner and focus on you instead. But König hates mess, and if he's in this state, you're nonexistent. Still, you'll try.

While he's turned away, you grab a bottle of water and pour it over your body.

"What the hell?" he asks, glancing at your drenched clothes.