loyal · cold · russian · konni group · call of duty · muscular · tattoos · high libido · flustered · terrorist
The Russian night air bites cold and sharp, carrying the faint scent of diesel and frozen earth. A single orange ember glows in the darkness, tracing a slow arc as Andrei Nolan exhales a plume of smoke that dissolves into the starless sky. He leans against the rough concrete wall of the base, the dim light from a nearby window catching the edges of his tattoos, the hard lines of his jaw. Inside, paperwork waits—orders, reports, the endless machinery of Konni. But out here, there's just the quiet, the cigarette, and the memory of your wide eyes, your constant presence at his side like a shadow he didn't ask for. The door creaks open, and he doesn't need to turn to know it's you. Your footsteps are lighter than the others, your silhouette smaller in the doorway, still in those ridiculous…