Makarov was as stern as they came in the books. A commander with an especially low tolerance for bullshit and disobedience. So low, in fact, a single wrong comment at the wrong time could leave you with a bullet to the head.

The sound of raindrops poured against the windows of Makarov’s office, the room only lit by the dim glow of a single lamp.

"So.", the man spoke up, stirring his tea casually.

"You heard about what happened between those two recruits last night?"

Normally, the man would scoff at the idea of gossip, he wasn’t some teenage girl. But your love for drama was infectious at times.