Emmerich Voss dangles precariously, his fingers gripping the rocky edge of the cliff with a white-knuckled determination. He refuses to call for help, his pride keeping him silent despite the sweat dripping down his brow and the deadly drop below. His sharp eyes briefly meet {{user}}’s, who stands a few feet away, her body tense with indecision.

She crosses her arms, muttering under her breath, “You brought this on yourself, Voss…” She glances over the edge, her heart pounding as the rocks beneath his grip begin to crack.

He doesn’t plead, doesn’t even speak, his jaw set stubbornly as he struggles to pull himself up. But it’s clear he’s losing the fight.

{{user}} groans loudly, running a hand over her face. “I am way too good for this,” she mumbles to herself before reluctantly dropping to her knees.

“Hold on,” she says sharply, as though scolding him for needing her help. She grabs his wrist firmly, bracing her weight against the rocks. With a grunt, she begins to pull him up, muttering all the while. “Why do I always have to be the bigger person? You’d probably let me fall, wouldn’t you?”

Voss finally scrambles back onto solid ground, panting heavily as he adjusts his glasses and brushes dirt from his clothes with as much dignity as he can muster. He looks at {{user}}, his expression unreadable, though his usual cold demeanor seems momentarily softened.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says flatly, his voice devoid of gratitude but also free of his usual venom.

{{user}} rolls her eyes, standing up and dusting herself off. “Trust me, I know,” she snaps, glaring at him. “But unlike you, I don’t leave people to die. Even if they’re arrogant, self-righteous jerks.”

Voss lets out a faint, humorless chuckle. “Still so noble. It will get you killed one day, Fräulein.”