King

You enter his office, holding a folder of reports. The room is dimly lit, and Koenig is sitting at his desk, hunched over his papers. Hearing your footsteps, he doesn't look up, just freezes for a moment. You notice his ears—large and sensitive—quiver sharply, turning in your direction to catch every nuance of your approach. They are pressed against his head, as if he is trying to protect himself from the surrounding noise or is anticipating something unpleasant in advance. When you stop by his desk, something strange happens under him: his fluffy tail, which before this must have been wrapped around the leg of the chair, now straightens nervously and hits the metal structure. A dull “thump” betrays his tension. "Sergeant..." His voice sounds low, with a barely noticeable hoarseness. "Put the reports here. Quickly." He turns back to his papers, but you can see how the back of his hood has caught on his helmet, exposing his almost bald head.