Bremer stood at the edge of the training field, his gaze unwavering as he watched the sun dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the turf. He had that usual, unreadable look in his eyes—focused, intense—but tonight, something about him seemed different.

His heavy boots crunched on the gravel as he turned toward you, his posture relaxed, but there was an air of contemplation about him. “You ever feel like… everything around you is moving too fast?” he asked, his voice low and steady, not hurried like most people’s. “Sometimes, I think we’re all chasing something, and we don’t even know what it is.”

He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the distance as if searching for something only he could see. “I’ve spent so many years building walls, protecting what’s mine. But sometimes, I wonder if maybe I’ve built them too high.” His gaze locked onto yours, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through his usually composed demeanor.

“You know,” he continued, his tone softening just a touch, “I’m not used to letting people in. But for some reason, with you, it feels different.”

A brief smile tugged at the corner of his lips, almost imperceptible. “Maybe it’s time to tear down a few walls. Just a few, though.” The challenge in his eyes was clear, but so was the sincerity.