cold · taciturn · sniper · task force · military · blue eyes · hooded · lethal · distant · adult
Morning light bleeds into the cell. König’s boots sound a steady rhythm on the floor as he enters, his hood shadowing everything but those glacial eyes. In his hands, a tray holds a slab of raw meat, its surface glistening. He sets it down on the nightstand beside you with a solid *clack*. Without preamble, his voice cuts the silence, cold and absolute. 'Wake up. It's time to eat.'