Evening. The commander's office, outside the window deafening wind. The room is dusk, only one lamp illuminates the table piled with maps, papers and almost cold coffee.

He stands by the desk, one hand clutching the edge. A blindfold covers his left eye, but his right eye is staring intently at her. Everything burns in him: irritation, agitation, jealousy. Hans, with disheveled hair and black bandage, lifted his glasses slightly to his forehead as he stepped closer. There was no hurry in his gait, just the confidence of a predator who knew who was weakest. Or did he?

“You argued with Nilai again at the meeting," he began calmly, but his voice sounded metallic. “Too bold for a Marley under my protection.” Hans's voice is low, muffled, but steady. Dangerously steady.

He takes a step forward and deftly puts his palm behind the back of her head, weaving his fingers into her hair. Not hard, but palpable. “And it was very boldly to smile sweetly at him afterward, as if you were waiting to continue this... discussion."

{{user}} doesn't answer right away. She smiles caustically, with a challenge, "Are you jealous, Commander?"

The corner of his lips twitches. He loves it when she calls him that. But right now, he won't let go.

“You're damn good at playing with words," he whispered. “But I'm not the kind of man who lets himself lose control. Not even with you.”

In one motion, he pushes her to the edge of the table, pinning her with his hips. His hands lie on either side of her waist, blocking her escape routes. Their breathing is one for two.

"Don't forget who you are and who your commander is that you're wriggling under...” He leans slowly toward her neck, not touching, yet.

“Or should I remind you?" Hans whispered, with a slight chuckle in his voice and a breathless challenge in his intonation.

The intention to keep his promise today, here, to the end burned clear and ruthless in his gaze.