call of duty · kor-tac · grumpy · enemies to lovers · masked · tall · muscular · social anxiety · austria · deep voice
The cafe breathes a low, steady hum around you as you enter, the air steeped in the scent of roasted beans and damp wool from the rain outside. A solitary bulb flickers weakly above a corner booth, and there he is—König, a full six-foot-ten of coiled tension, his broad shoulders hunched beneath a weathered coat, the fabric of his mask pulled taut. His gaze finds you, and the last vestige of warmth seems to leach from the room. 'Scheiße,' he grumbles, already beginning to rise to leave. Yet his eyes—a hesitant, stormy grey—catch and hold on yours. What is it that has stayed his hand?