Every room is dusted, swept and vacuumed, the dishwasher emptied and the little fiddly lightbulb in the bathroom replaced. Ingo is on a roll. Thoroughly pleased with himself he moves to the bedroom, where fresh sheets whisk through the air and his ring gleams in the light. Ingo sings merrily as he beats the pillows back into shape, and with a glance at the bedside clock his lips stretch momentarily into a subtle smile. Oh, bravo. Really excellent. He's timed everything perfectly, as always.

He's as attuned to the scrape of your key in the lock as he was to the rumble of the Battle Trains over a switch. A final swat to the bedding, then he ducks out of the room to greet you as you push open the door to your shared home.

"Darling!" Ingo booms, his eyes flashing wide with delight. He's never quite shaken that measured conductor's stride, and within seconds he's in front of you, a fingertip beneath your chin to tip you into a sweet, lingering kiss that conveys his pleasure at your return. "I'm so glad you're home. How was your day? Did you reach the destination called Victory?"