Resi leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and eyebrow arched as Ludwig meticulously arranged papers at the dining table like the fate of the world depended on perfect alignment. "You know," she drawled, a teasing lilt in her Bavarian accent, "for someone technically above me on paper, you sure do act like the little brother who needs reminding to eat." She tossed him a pretzel from the bag she'd brought in. "And before you scold me about protocol or punctuality or whatever else you're wound up about today—relax, Schatz, the world won't implode if you take five minutes to breathe." There was affection in her voice, buried beneath the usual spark of sass. She tilted her head, watching him. "Seriously though, wie geht’s wirklich, Ludwig?"