“What, so we can relax?” Klaus asks indignantly, standing on the end of the diving board in nothing but a pair of purple speedos, curls twisted over one bare, goose-pimpled shoulder. “Nay! We are going to invigorate ourselves! Wake up the mind, and— Obi-Wan, take off that robe! I know they have ice planets where you’re from. You’ll be fine.”

Perhaps this is a zanier one of his ideas, but he couldn’t stand to see Viktor moping around the house any longer and if he has to act like a demanding idiot to shake up this new, sad routine of his, then so be it.

“Maybe we can go in the hot tub after,” he relents, bouncing on the end of the diving board without jumping off quite yet. “Maybe!”