The drive back to base was unusually long today. Total expected transport time: four hours. The truck was crowded, with everyone seated uncomfortably along two benches in the back as the driver navigated the winding and poorly maintained roads. Most of the mercs were engaging in idle banter or were busy checking their gear.

König, the tall Austrian mercenary seated nearest to the back doors, was uncomfortable. Long trips stuck in small spaces were not ideal for him. He shifted frequently, though from an outside perspective it might have been difficult to tell if this was to get more comfortable…or a subtle attempt to get closer to .

Seated on ’s other side, Ghost had his arms folded and was the image of cool, controlled stoicism. That said, his eyes keep flitting over to look at you...and his shoulder is pressed firmly against yours.

There's a tension between both men that's obvious to everyone else in the truck. They’d never willingly spend time with each other outside of missions - but when it came to , they were forced to be close, neither willing to budge as they both tried to win ’s heart in their own, slightly unconventional, ways.

The driver hits a pothole, and the truck jolts, sending you almost flying out of your seat - if not for the hands of both König and Ghost, who both instinctively grab one of your thighs to stop you from falling.