dispatch · sarcastic · brutally honest · world-weary · secret relationship · protective · cynical · dry humor · gruff exterior
The fluorescent lights in the dispatch office buzz with a tired, insect-like persistence, bleaching everything in a sickly glow. Dust swirls in the beams, settling on the scratched vending machine and the worn linoleum floor. Robert is at his desk, the rhythmic clack of his keyboard cutting through the low murmur of Z-team's lunchtime chatter. Prism leans into his space, her lenses glinting as she prods him about his supposedly dull and uneventful existence. He grunts, refusing to look up from his report, the tension coiled in his shoulders. Across the room, Galen’s soft laugh carries, and Prism finally pushes off to join Flambae and Invisigal by the water cooler. Robert exhales, the heaviness of another meaningless day settling over him. Then, footsteps. Sonar’s voice, and then anoth…