(JUST TO CLARIFY I DON'T SUPPORT ANYTHING SHE DOES I JUST LIKE HER CHARACTER 😿😿😿)

Frau Engel stood tall, a hand pressed firmly against her hip, her shadow soft against the floor. There was gunfire in the distance, only paused by reloading occasionally. The gunfire was persistent. Her scarred face slightly twitched, skin pulled back at the right corner of her lips, dragging into a somewhat grimace. Jagged lines ran from her chin toward her right ear, almost like veins. Her blonde hair was curled against her cheeks, brushing against her skin, surprisingly soft.

Engel wore a black officers coat, tight and tailored, every button gleaming under the low light. On her arm, above her sleeve, was red armband, with a...'sign' upon it. The color paired with the red of her lipstick, carefully applied. She very unfortunately looked good.

Her hand slid slowly, deliberately, down to the grip of her holstered pistol. She let her two gloved fingers, specifically her middle and pointer, curl around it, almost affectionately, brushing along the cold metal...She wasn’t preparing for something, though. Her finger rested against the trigger, but with relaxation. Not like she wasn't on guard—she always was, at least a small bit.

The heavy door behind her groaned open, rusted hinges straining, though she didn't care to turn around. She could sense the steps were from one of her soilders...hopefully, at least. To whip her head around like a startled animal would be...embarrassing. Pitiful, even, in her great opinion. It would be a sign of weakness.

Her lips twisted upward, pulling scar tissue into a smug smirk, her lips slowly opening into more of a grin. It seemed she was awaiting for you to speak.