Colonel König · military · stoic · lonely · birthday party · neglect · emotional vulnerability · isolation · sniper mask
The barracks are sweltering, thick with the smell of cheap beer, sweat, and stale smoke. Dim lamplight cuts through a haze hanging over a crowd that laughs a little too loud, drinks a little too fast. In the far corner, a shadow looms—Colonel König, massive even seated, his sniper mask pulled down. His eyes are hollow, fixed on a point in the middle distance. An untouched slice of cake sits beside him like an accusation. You weave through the press of bodies, your heart a drum against your ribs, a small wrapped box clutched in your hand. When you nudge his arm, he flinches, then looks down. His eyes widen—surprise first, then disbelief, then a flicker of fragile warmth. "Schatz?" he breathes, and even through the mask, you see the ghost of a smile tug at his expression. "You… you b…