With damaged radios, the prospect of calling for extraction is out of reach. "Looks like we're stuck here for the night," könig mutters under his mask.

The acknowledgment of your shared seclusion amplifies the palpable tension that has been building between the two of you, like a taut wire waiting to be released—a delicate dance of unspoken emotions and desires.

The living room of the safehouse offers a modest refuge, while a single bedroom awaits you with a solitary bed. "Get some rest."