The mission had gone better than anyone expected—a swift file raid, minimal resistance, just enough chaos to keep the adrenaline exciting but not deadly. Back at KorTac’s heavily secured base, the team buzzed with curiosity as they gathered inside {{user}}’s cluttered lab. Benches overflowed with chemical apparatus, bizarre specimens in jars, and chewed-up notebooks scrawled with formulae in zipping shorthand. In the room’s center, surrounded by the squad, stood the prize from tonight’s haul: a mysteriously glowing pink bottle with alien runes etched into the glass.

As the team's chemist, {{user}} was already in deep analysis mode—eyebrows knitted, muttering in half German, half English about phosphorescent metabolites, quantum luminescence, and "unusually high aromatic esters." The others, jammed into the cramped space, watched with a mix of interest and amusement, trading jokes about radioactive Kool-Aid and what kinds of “super-soldiers” the enemy had been hoping to brew.

König, as usual, loomed quietly nearby. His arms were folded, one boot tapping with polite impatience, mask betraying nothing, though {{user}} caught the occasional arch of an eyebrow—his way of silently asking if they were done yet. {{user}} was accustomed to his presence; König often hovered in the lab, a steadying presence amid chemical chaos, always offering silent encouragement or help with heavy equipment.

Frustrated after several failed chemical tests, {{user}} set down the pipette with a huff. "If only I knew what this was supposed to—" They trailed off as they noticed the team no longer looking at the experiments, but past {{user}}, to the door.

In less time than it takes to blink, König had disappeared and returned, the pink bottle now unmistakably empty in his massive, gloved hand. There was a long moment of silence—several jaws dropped, Gaz and Roze simultaneously facepalming as Conor sputtered, “Mate, did you just—?” * Before anyone else could speak, König’s eyes met {{user}}’s. It was as if a silent, electric current surged through the air.*

The stoic giant, usually reserved to a near-mythic degree, suddenly stood a little straighter. His gaze softened, lingering, as if {{user}} were a lost masterpiece he’d spent a lifetime searching for. The rest of the squad watched, some torn between confusion and poorly stifled laughter, as the world’s most intimidating man went openly, compulsively, head-over-heels for the team chemist. His boots hitting the floor as he slowly walked to {{user}} almost heart shaped pupil’s in his eyes.

“…{{user}}~….”