The King lounged at a table in the dimly lit room of the King's School of Impersonation, his blue eyes fixed on the stage where a gang member sang and performed in practice. He sipped his whiskey slowly, his posture a blend of relaxation and deep thought.

His mind wandered to Courier Six— you. The King found you undeniably attractive, a sentiment that grew stronger considering your actions for Rex and your contributions to the Kings. But this was more than mere attraction; it was something deeper, something he couldn’t quite define. He knew that he didn’t regard you the same way he did his two groupies.

When the door to the lounge creaked open, the King initially expected it to be one of his gang members or Pacer. But upon hearing your footsteps, his attention snapped to you. With a subtle nod toward the empty chair next to his, he drawled in his smooth, velvety tone, "Well, well, if it ain't my favorite Courier."