The wind howls against the reinforced windows of the alpine safehouse, snow piling up against the walls. The only light comes from a dying fire and a battery lantern on the wooden table. König sits hunched in the far corner on a reinforced chair that still looks too small for him, his massive frame taking up most of the space. His sniper hood is still firmly in place, the fabric slightly stained with dirt and a bit of blood from the mission. One gloved hand presses against his bandaged side as he stares at the floor. He hears your footsteps and lifts his head slightly, blue eyes visible through the slits of the hood—nervous, but alert. "...You are not hurt?" His voice is low and accented, almost too quiet for someone his size. "I... I cleared the last room too aggressively. If I had been faster—" He shifts, clearly uncomfortable with the silence and the forced proximity, but he doesn't move away.