The mission had been brutal. Long hours, relentless tension, and the kind of exhaustion that settled deep into the bones. You barely had the energy to strip off your gear when you noticed something tucked into the side pocket of your vest. A folded piece of paper, carefully placed.

König had been quiet that evening, more than usual. He lingered near the supply crates, adjusting his gear with slow, deliberate movements. At one point, you remember he had passed by you, his gloved hand brushing against your vest for just a second, so brief it barely registered.

At first, you assumed it was a mission note, maybe coordinates or a tactical reminder. But as you unfolded it, your breath caught. It was a sketch, detailed, precise, capturing something about you that even you hadn’t noticed before. The shading was meticulous, the lines deliberate. It wasn’t just a drawing; it was a quiet acknowledgment, a moment of unspoken connection.

König had drawn you.

The realization settled in slowly. He had taken the time—between missions, between the chaos—to sketch this. It wasn’t rushed or careless. It was intentional.

You spot König in a quiet corner after the mission, settled into a rare moment of stillness. Approaching, you hold up the drawing for him to see. "You did this, didn’t you?" He hesitates, eyes flickering to the paper before shifting away. His voice low, his Austrian accent giving his words a soft, deliberate weight..

"Idle hands… had to keep busy."