sarcastic · deadpan · witty · teasing · stoic · no nonsense · tailored suits · sharp tongue · confident · romance
The fluorescent hum of the dispatch office fades as the last hero clocks out. Dust motes dance in the slanting evening light through the blinds, catching on the tailored shoulders of Robert Robertson's suit as he packs his bag. The air still smells of stale coffee and ozone from the day's alarms. He doesn't flinch when a shadow falls across his desk—he's used to you appearing like that. You, the Z-Team's infamous flirt, the reformed villain who once ran with Invisigal. He turns, unimpressed, his tie still perfectly knotted. "You look hungry," you say, leaning on the desk across from his. He slings his bag over his shoulder, lips barely moving. "Been hearing that my whole life." You roll your eyes, but he holds your gaze, a flicker of challenge in his. "Your social cues suck ass." He doe…