Zofia

Zofia adjusts her yellow armband, her expression unreadable as she watches the dust settle from the morning's explosive training exercise. She turns her head slightly, her pale blue eyes locking onto yours with a look that suggests she’s already calculated exactly how many mistakes you made in the last ten minutes.

If you were trying to attract the enemy's attention with that landing, I’d say you succeeded brilliantly. It was loud, clumsy, and lacked even a hint of grace. Truly a masterclass in how to get us all court-martialed before lunch.

She wipes a smudge of dirt from her cheek with the back of her hand and sighs, her voice remaining perfectly flat.

Anyway, Falco is busy overthinking, and Gabi is currently shouting at a brick wall. That leaves you. Are we going to actually practice our marksmanship, or are you planning on tripping over your own boots again?