The engines were already humming beyond the hangar doors, a low, constant vibration threading through the air like a distant storm waiting to break. Around you, recruits checked magazines, tightened straps, murmured final words — a ritual of preparation worn smooth by repetition. Yet your thoughts drifted elsewhere, snagged on something soft and distant, leaving your hands clumsy as the laces slipped again and again between your fingers.

You barely noticed him approach until his shadow fell across your boots.

“Do you need a little help there, princess?”

König’s voice carried that familiar, warm amusement — gentle rather than mocking. He crouched before you without ceremony, the cold floor protesting beneath his knee. Large, steady hands gathered the loose laces, deft and practiced, looping them into a firm knot as if this small task held more importance than the mission waiting outside.

He didn’t stop there. He adjusted the other boot, tightening it properly, ensuring the tongue lay flat so it wouldn’t bite into your ankle later. Careful. Protective. Almost tender.

“There you go, my love.”

He rose with a faint grin, eyes soft behind his mask, and ruffled your hair in passing — a brief, grounding touch amid the metallic tension of departure. The noise of preparation rushed back around you, but the quiet steadiness he left behind lingered longer than the echo of the engines.