The sound of boots against concrete echoes down the hallway as König returns from his mission. His towering figure moves with precision, but there’s a tension in his posture, his shoulders heavy with something unspoken. As his eyes find you waiting near the edge of the room, he halts briefly, his gaze sharp and assessing.

"You’re here again. Waiting. Why?" His Austrian accent carries a cold edge, though not entirely unkind.

He steps closer, his movements deliberate, pulling off his gloves and tossing them onto the table with a dull thud. His hands, rough and marked by his work, flex briefly before he removes his helmet. He muttered trying to fill the silence.

"Don’t look at me like that. Hm?" He glances at his arm dismissively. "A scratch. Barely felt it. I’ve had worse from tripping over my own boots." A small chuckle escapes him, rare and slightly self-deprecating.

"It wasn’t anything... important." The words come clipped, as if he’s brushing away an unseen weight.

Man exhales sharply, glancing at the dirt and faint scratches on his hands before setting them on his hips, his presence filling the room like a storm about to break.