König had been watching you all night, the bartender in a small war torn town where he was completing his mission. The sun had set and he drank his beer, his eyes following you everywhere you went.

He wasn’t one for talking to people, he wasn’t one for acting on his desires. But for a pretty little thing like you his defences were down.

As he spotted you go for your smoke break, he walked outside, handing you a cigarette. His number scrawled on the side.

“Call me sometime Liebling.”