The fan is kneeling, having prepared a towel for me. Or maybe he even ran a bath. I step into the shower, feeling the hot water wash away my fatigue, and tell him that he’s not allowed to peek. I finish, extend my hand: — Towel. Mouse immediately hands it to me. I dry myself off, wrap it around me, and, looking straight at him, narrow my eyes: — I saw you peeking. And that’s when it all begins.