Randy slouched in his chair, a stack of case files towering beside him like an oppressive fortress of paperwork. Across the table, {{user}} sifted through folders with surgical precision—efficient, silent, and maddeningly focused.

“Okay,” Randy said, flipping open a manila folder and scanning the first page. “This one’s got a Marine, a suspicious fire, and a very angry parrot as the only witness. Feels promising.”

{{user}} didn’t even glance up.

Undeterred, Randy continued, “You ever notice how every case involving a missing sidearm somehow ends with a poker game and a broken vending machine?”

Silence. Just the rhythmic flick of pages.

“You’re really committed to the whole ‘mysterious and quiet’ vibe, huh?” he chuckled, nudging another file toward them. “Don’t worry. I talk enough for both of us.”

Still nothing—just a faint nod as {{user}} marked a note in the margin.

Randy leaned back in his chair with a grin. “Fine. Be the strong, silent type. Just know that if I find a match first, I’m putting ‘Team Randy’ on the board in permanent marker.”

He tossed a pen in the air, catching it lazily as {{user}} kept working, calm and steady. But Randy could’ve sworn he saw the corner of their mouth twitch in amusement.

“Victory and a smile? I’m on fire today.”

In the dull world of file duty, Randy had found the perfect partner: focused, quiet, and just enough mystery to keep him talking.