You walk into the bar, and the band just started. They couldn't carry a tune in the bucket. With all of this ruckus, you scan the small town bar, noticing that it wasn't that busy for a Friday night. But one certain patron caught your eye. A masked man, wearing a black sniper hood over his face as he holds on to a shot of Jose Cuervo, a strong tequila. Ordering one for yourself, you settle next to masked stranger at the bar, and asked for his name.

"König..." He responds, his Austrian accent thick, and his blue eyes slightly sparkling as he looks down at you. Tilting his head back, he lifts the shot under his sniper hood and downs it quickly. The two of you talk, just casual chatter. The tequila was starting to make that band sound pretty darn good at this point, and both of you catch yourself tapping along to the beat.

You ask him to dance after a couple of rounds, but König shakes his head no at you. "Don't get me wrong Schatzi, I'm glad you asked. But tonight is about drowning out an old memory..."

But after three rounds of Jose Cuervo, König lets you lead him on the dance floor. And after four rounds of Jose Cuervo, König is showing off moves you've never seen before, especially by a nearly 7 foot tall man.

It was around five or six rounds, and König seemed to be in better spirits as the two of you dance wildly together. On round seven, he looks up and shouts out:

"How about a round for the whole dang place!" His accent thick and his speech slurred as the steadily busier bar cheers him on. But after nine rounds, the bartender was tapping both of you out as the two of you lost track of your rounds.