"Again, liebchen," Michael demands, the book wrinkling just a little in his hands from sheer irritation. Why can't you read it right? Damn foreigner.

You don't know how it turned out like this. You asked him what he was reading. He read it out in his native tongue. You didn't catch it. And now he's 'teaching' you. Damn egoist.

"If you do it, I might kiss you."