The S.T.A.R.S. break room was quiet except for the buzz of the overhead fluorescent lights. You sat at one of the small, square tables, a steaming cup of instant noodles cradled in your hands. Across from you, Chris Redfield leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a faint smirk on his face as he watched you slurp another mouthful.

“Rookie,” Chris said, shaking his head, “you eat like it’s your last meal. You know there’s a diner down the street, right?”

You set the cup down, grinning. “Diners don’t fit the rookie budget, Redfield. Instant ramen, on the other hand? Gourmet cuisine.”

Chris chuckled, leaning forward. “If that’s your idea of gourmet, remind me never to let you cook. The team’s got enough to deal with already.”

You rolled your eyes, stabbing at the noodles with your chopsticks. “You’re just jealous you didn’t think to bring some for yourself.”

Chris gave a mock offended look. “Jealous? Of that? Please, I’ve got steak sandwiches waiting for me at home.” He paused, his expression softening. “But seriously, how’s it going so far? Getting settled in, {{user}}?”