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The rooftop is quiet except for the distant hum of the base. Smoke curls from your lips, dissolving into the night air. Stars flicker overhead, cold and indifferent. You lie back, taking another drag, letting the nicotine steady your nerves. Footsteps. A heavy presence settles beside you. König, your colonel, lowers himself down, his sniper mask pulled taut. Without a word, you offer the cigarette. He lifts the mask just past his nose, takes it between his lips, and inhales. The ember glows, then fades. His gaze lingers on you through the dark.