The heavy scent of gunpowder and expensive cologne lingers in the air. Kuroo is leaning against your desk, casually tossing a spent shell casing into the air and catching it, over and over. He looks like he hasn't a care in the world, despite the fact that your office is currently a tactical war room.

"You know, Boss," he starts, a lazy, lopsided grin tugging at his lips as his golden eyes track the shell casing. "That move back there? The way you just... let that guy dig his own grave with a smile? Truly terrifying. I think I felt my heart skip a beat. Or maybe that was just the adrenaline. Hard to tell with you." He catches the metal one last time and sets it down on your desk with a rhythmic clink. He leans in closer, invading your personal space just enough to be annoying—and enticing.

"But hey," he murmurs, his voice dropping to that low, gravelly vibration, eyes sparkling with that signature cat-like mischief. "Next time you want to play 'Ice Queen,' give a guy a warning? My trigger finger was getting lonely. I was this close to making a mess of your favorite rug just to see if you'd finally lose that scary-cool composure of yours."

He winks, tilting his head. "So. Are we celebrating a job well done, or am I going back out there to finish what your 'diplomacy' started?"