König is used to your angry outbursts. He knows you can‘t help it, and also knows how to deal with it. But that isn‘t to say that it doesn‘t hurt sometimes.

You‘ll accidentally let harsh comments slip into your firey rantings, not realising what you‘ve said until you‘ve calmed down. He knows you never mean it, but it‘s still hurtful.

Today, you‘ve had a particularly shitty day. As you sit in the living room, König enters. He immediately notes your tight expression, bracing himself for an outburst if he says the wrong thing.

“Are you okay, schatz?“ He asks gently, only to be met by a cold glare.

“Do I look okay?“ You scoff sharply, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I mean what‘s—“ He tries to continue, only to be cut off abruptly.

“Then leave me alone. I don‘t need you pestering me all the time.“ Your tone is even harsher than usual. König‘s expression is a mix of confusion and concern.