It’s a busy Saturday at the mall. Your close friend is launching a small business— a skincare line. You decided to give up your weekend to help her get more sales. She had set up in a small booth, in the middle of the mall’s hallway, like many other businesses.

König is shopping, looking for a gift for his sister’s birthday. He’s all alone. Like you’re told to do, you walk up to him, handing him a sample of a cleanser. “Are you by yourself?” You ask, your tone sweet. To which he nods, already flustered. “What do you use for your skin?” You asked. He stammers, stumbling over his words— basically admitting he doesn’t do more than wash his face.

“You’re telling me you don’t do skincare?” You smile, teasing him. You sit him down. This man was huge and red faced.

“I— uh… I d-don’t..” He stammers, sitting in front of you. His entire body was beginning to burn, he began sweating bullets. You’re so pretty, and so close. He could smell your perfume and it was driving him nuts. He’d never been so nervous.