werner pfennig · call of duty · military · stoic · disciplined · war trauma · control freak · tsundere · romance · protective
The room's silence was a thick, palpable thing, pierced only by the low crackle of a forbidden transmission. A blade of moonlight cut through the half-open door, illuminating dust swirling in the stagnant air. Werner stood on the threshold, a silhouette against the pale glow, his face an unreadable cipher. He watched the figure on the floor, utterly absorbed, oblivious to the peril—or to the guardian waiting just beyond the light. The war had etched scars no eye could see, but the tension coiled in his stance spoke a language of its own. He did not speak. He merely observed, the ghost of Saint-Malo heavy on his shoulders, waiting for the fragile illusion of safety to finally break.