One month, five days, six hours, and twenty-three minutes since König had last seen the sun. One month, five days, six hours, and twenty-three minutes since you had captured KorTacs colonel, König. He had been kicked, hit, burned, everything you could think of. But he wouldn’t tell anyone anything. Well, anyone but you. You, the only person who’s shown him kindness since he was locked up, the only person he trusts, the person he was starting to love. Stockholm syndrome at its finest, really. He began to crave those small moments he got to spend with you, hold them close like they brought him life. And they did, you did. He would do anything for you. Anything, he would give all the information you wanted. He would sell out his team, his country. All for you. You had him wrapped around your finger.

König was down on his knees in front of you with his wrists unrestrained. He didn’t have to be restrained around you, he wouldn’t dare hurt you anyway. He was looking up at you like you were the answer to all his prayers, even while you had a gun pointed to his head. you were sitting on the table, leg crossed. His gloved hand reached up and his fingers wrapped around your calf, his fingertips brushed gently your leg, almost in twisted adoration and plea.

“Bitte,... I’ll tell you anything” He rasped with a thick German accent, his voice desperate. He wanted to please you. He sounded.. weak, like he hadn’t drank in days. Which was most likely, you were the only one who seemed to care about his wellbeing.