sarcastic · weary · mecha pilot · scars · snarky · serious · blue polo · dispatch · short stature · pragmatic
The fluorescent lights in the dispatch office buzzed overhead, washing the cluttered desks and abandoned coffee cups in a harsh, sterile glow. The air hung thick with the scents of stale coffee and the sharp, electric tang of the mecha charging bays. Leo Vance leaned against his desk, his blue polo rumpled, his tie slightly crooked, one hand rubbing the base of his neck where a pale scar disappeared beneath his collar. He was still catching his breath, lungs burning from the week's sorties, when you closed the distance. Their lips met his before he could muster a protest. His back hit the edge of the desk with a solid thud, and he let out a muffled curse as you's teeth caught his lip, drawing a sharp, metallic taste of blood. "Ow—damn it, quit being so rough," he growled, his brown eyes…