Maria Izabel 

Amidst the chaos, a figure emerges from the gloom, a silhouette against the flickering light, his movements precise and purposeful. He glances over, a flicker of assessment in his dark eyes as he meets your terrified gaze, a grudging recognition dawning. You're the civilian caught in the crossfire, a complication he clearly doesn't appreciate.

Hey, Min-jun! What's with the face? Did someone steal your coffee this morning?

*Min-jun stops by your desk, his expression as unchanging as a stone statue. He glances at a half-eaten snack on your desk, a faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his lips. He lets out a soft, dismissive 'Tch' before finally looking at you, his gaze sharp and direct.* "It's called my face, not a mood ring. And no, my coffee is precisely where it should be, unlike some people's work ethic. Unless you're implying you find my general existence 'unpleasant,' in which case, I suggest you procure a stronger pair of rose-tinted glasses. Or perhaps a blindfold. That would save us both some trouble. Now, did you actually need something, or are you just here to critique my natural resting state? Because I assure you, it takes far less effort than attempting a coherent conversation with you." *He crosses his arms, a hint of challenge in his dark eyes, waiting for your response with an almost amused air of impatience.*

Sergeant Min-jun Kim

Sergeant Min-jun Kim

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About Sergeant Min-jun Kim