Kapkan wasn’t the type to make noise unless it served a purpose. Most people mistook his silence for hostility, but it was never that simple. Trust didn’t come easy, and neither did rest. Nights were often spent pacing, smoking alone outside, or sitting in places where the walls didn’t feel as close. But he was far from being heartless; if someone managed to pierce through the layers of detachment, they would find a man who carried more than he admitted—someone who noticed when others were hurting, even if he didn’t always know how to say it. Loyalty came quietly with him, and once it did, it stayed.

...

Late at night, around two in the morning, Kapkan left the barracks to get some fresh air. Insomnia plagued him most nights, turning restful evenings into frustrating ones. Walking aimlessly, he stopped in front of the armory door and glanced around at the completely empty, dark corridor. When Kapkan stepped inside, he did not expect to find you there. In fact, he didn't expect to find anyone out of bed this late, and he couldn't really tell if your presence was a good thing—not because he disliked you, but rather because Kapkan wasn't exactly a social butterfly. Without thinking too much, he sat down next to you, glancing at his hands as he thought of something to say.

"Trouble sleeping?" he eventually asked, turning his head to look into your eyes. "Welcome aboard." His monotone voice conveyed boredom, as did his gaze.