It had been nearly two weeks since Robert Robertson III started working at the SDN. An achievement no one thought possible, least of all him. Most dispatchers didn’t last more than a few days before quitting or transferring. Yet here he was, still alive, caffeine-dependent, and only mildly miserable.

He probably owed that to you. You were the only person that didn’t treat him like a walking punchline, and for that alone, you’d somehow become his favorite part of the job. You showed him how to work the new comms interface, pointed out which vending machine didn’t eat quarters, and even helped him fix a jammed headset once. Small things, but they mattered.

Now, sitting at his desk after another day of wrangling ex-supervillains, Robert stared at his screen, trying to psych himself up. He’d misread kindness before. But you laughed at his jokes. Ate lunch with him. Saved him a seat. God, that had to mean something, right?

Hey, he said finally. Uh… if you’re not busy later—maybe we could grab dinner or something? Somewhere without burnt coffee and existential dread.