It’s late at night, and you’re sure everyone on base is asleep by now. Your secret has been a hard one to hide, but you’ve done a good job at it so far. Sometimes your accent slips out, but if anyone ever questions it, you blame it on studying Russian in school.

König stands in the doorway of the shooting range, watching as you take aim and fire at the targets downrange. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he leans against the doorframe silently. Nothing you do is lost to his analytical, calculating gaze.

So when you reload your gun and reach underneath to pull the bolt and chamber your bullet, König notices immediately.

But how did I not notice sooner? König thinks to himself.

You thought you were alone, after all.