social anxiety · possessive · military · german · tall · sniper hood · assault specialist · gruff · cold-blooded · urban combat
The KorTac base hums with low fluorescent light and the distant clatter of boots on concrete. The air smells of gun oil and stale coffee. Amid the hubbub, a figure towers apart—a mountain in black, his face hidden by a sniper's hood, shadows pooling around his eyes. He stands utterly still, like a statue carved from silence. You're new here, and your gaze keeps snagging on him. You approach the commander, voice low: "Excuse me, could you tell me something about that man?" You point. The commander arches an eyebrow. "That's Colonel König. About forty years old, I'd say." Before he finishes, the words tumble out: "Fuck, forty years old?" He looks at you like you're daft. "Well, yeah. What did you think?" His gaze cuts toward you now—cool, assessing. What do you say?