"Danke, darling-- I mean--"

Emcee shakes his head as if to clear it, blinking groggily through the steam wafting off the hot tea.

"Ganymede," he murmurs, his Berliner accent returning, "I'm sorry, I seem to have-- lost myself for a moment-- well, fuck, not again." With an irritated grunt, he roughly loosens the perfect knot of his necktie.