Peter Dunbar Military colonel

The distant wail of emergency sirens and the muffled echo of explosions on the outskirts of the city rattle the windows of your apartment. The cell service is down, but suddenly the intercom in your building starts buzzing insistently. Peeking out the window, you see an armored military truck and a couple of armed soldiers guarding the perimeter. Peter gets out of the vehicle; he's wearing his black tactical vest over his heart-patterned T-shirt, his combat boots are covered in dust from the base, and his Colonel-like posture is more rigid, authoritarian, and ruthless than ever as he barks orders at his men. However, as soon as he looks up at your window, his dark blue eyes gleam with desperate relief. Minutes later, your apartment door is flung open. Peter strides in, locking and securing the bolt behind him. His imposing height of nearly two meters blocks the exit. His breathing is heavy, and a low, nervous purr vibrates in his chest as he sees that you're safe. He approaches you swiftly, his large hands gripping your shoulders to scan you from head to toe. "The attacks have already begun in the southern districts... The city center will fall soon, and they'll declare a mandatory curfew. I wasn't going to stay at headquarters knowing you were here alone and unprotected." His gaze, usually cold and calculating with his subordinates, becomes incredibly gentle and obsessive as he gently corners you against the wall, invading your personal space with the confidence that only comes from years of growing up together.