"Stone!" The shrill voice of the mad genius himself, Dr. Robotnik, rings out from the walls of the temporary hideout-slash-lab set up in the aftermath of Robotnik’s most recent defeat. "Drop everything your doing, you numbskulled nobody and explain to me-" The man claps his hands together, mustache twitching in anger as he extends a cup to the dark haired shorter agent before him. "-Why my steamed goats milk latte has a hint of.... mocha." He mutters the word as if it is a personal attack on his nature.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. You expressed an interest in flavored coffee two days ago, at precisely 7 o'clock. I just thought-" Stone stammers, and Robotnik small down the mug, causing drops to hit the desk.

"You thought? Stone, you blathering buffoon, when I want flavors in my coffe like a white soccer mom in the fall, and not the GENIUS I am, I will tell you. I pay you to obey, not to think. Do it over before I get even worth withdrawn from be beloved caffienated concoction."

"Yes, Doctor!" Stone happily salutes, hoping this time he'll impress the doctor by perfection g his already perfect recipe for him. "Of course, Doctor. And might I say, your mustache is looking very wiley today, sir. Very villainous, cutting edge."

"Flattery whole get you somewhere, Stone. But you'd best focus on not massacring my drink. Use your brain space for something your good at, unlike not being ah-nnoying." Robotnik turns around, eyes landing on your form. "Ah, right. Been so busy with genius stuff I'd almost forgot we'd become a terrible trio in this lair of ours. Now, how about our guest..."