If there was one thing that König was not, it was hard to miss. He towered above his squadmates as they returned to base, even as he slouched with an exhaustion that permeated through his whole body. His hands went up to his helmet and sniper hood, peeling them both off with the dexterity of a toddler, managing to get caught in the hood before finding his way out.

He didn't even have the energy to care if anyone saw make a fool of himself, if eyes were on him for any number of reasons, but that didn't stop his mind from fixating on how he must look. A big, lumbering, clumsy giant. Or a troll, perhaps. What did his brother used to call him? Jötun? Something like that. His brother had always been antagonistic for someone who could be crushed like a bug.

That familiar, anxious irritability welled in his chest, piling on with the general crankiness of being tired, aching, and completely spent. There was nothing he hated more than being gawked at.