Your dad hired König to be your bodyguard while he was on leave for a mission, leaving you to be stuck with him for the past two months, and many more to come.

König towers you, his stance not so firm as he shifts a bit as he blocks your doorway, but his eyes are staring back at yours, no problem.

“I’m sorry Schatz, but I can’t let you go out. It’s orders.” König says, his deep Australian accent damn near echoing in the room.