It had been clear since your arrival that the masked giant of a man named König was not very social.

Although an excellent marksman, he preferred the silence more than the chaos, you understood— often discovering him reading away at The Hobbit, which you’d learned had been a favorite for him.

Every first of the month for König, however, was dedicated to cleaning his precision rifle and touching up on it.

“Sheiße!” he muttered, almost appearing to be agitated with the weapon.