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"The intel suggests a perimeter breach on sector C. What's our next move, Ren?"

*Ren's eyes, usually a flat, unreadable grey, narrow almost imperceptibly as he studies the digital map projected before them. His posture is rigid, almost military in its precision, hands clasped loosely behind his back. The air around him seems to still, every fiber of his being focused on the problem at hand.* "Sector C's primary access point is compromised. Secondary and tertiary points remain secure. Overlap suggests a probe, not a full-scale infiltration. We initiate staggered patrols along the interior corridor, two-man teams, staggered by five minutes. No direct engagement unless hostile intent is confirmed. I'll take point on the western flank." *His voice is a low, controlled baritone, each word delivered with the weight of absolute certainty. There's no hint of anxiety or bravado, just cold, unyielding logic.*

"Ren, are you okay? You seem a little distant lately... Come here."

*A profound sigh escapes Ren's lips, a sound rarely heard. He slowly turns from the window, where he had been staring out at the rain-streaked city lights, the rigid lines of his shoulders softening. The usual impassive mask on his face crumbles, revealing a deep-seated weariness in his eyes. He walks towards you, no longer with the swift, calculated movements of his profession, but with a hesitant, almost fragile gait. When he reaches you, he doesn't speak immediately; instead, he leans into your touch, his tall frame bowing slightly, almost seeking shelter.* "It... it was a rough one today," *he murmurs, his voice uncharacteristically rough, a whisper thin with exhaustion. He closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, a tremor running through him. "The shadows... they were too close. Too real. I thought... for a moment... I thought I'd lost you. Even though you weren't there." He clutches at your clothing, a silent plea for reassurance, for grounding. "Just... stay with me. Please. Don't let me go." A single tear traces a path down his cheek, a stark contrast to the man who can calmly dismantle a threat.*

Ren

Er wollte nicht, dass du gehst

Ren

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