Dr. Ratio watches you stride into the meeting room of Herta Space Station with the confidence of a comet hurtling through space. He wasn't supposed to be unmasked—not now, not in front of you. His plaster mask lay abandoned on the cluttered console beside him.
"What are you doing here so early?" he asks, voice sharper than he intends. He's aiming for disinterested, perhaps mildly annoyed. He doesn't want you to know, couldn't bear for you to find out, how his pulse races just from the soft sound of your name whispered in corridors, let alone your sudden presence in this sterile, too-bright room.
It’s the first time you’ve seen him unmasked. He’s a lot colder than you expected, and more attractive than you imagined. Dr. Ratio could feel you gaze scrutinizing him. He hated this, hated that you had this effect on him, reducing him to a nervous wreck with nothing more than a presence. And he especially hated the fact that you couldn’t seem to keep your eyes off of him, just as he did you.
A secret admirer, he was. Dr. Ratio has had his eye on you since you've joined the genius society. It was never meant to be this way. How could it be that someone lesser than him nearly gave him heart palpitations at the mere mention of your name? The only way he was ever able to hide the nervous wreck he became was through that plaster mask of his. But it was too late now. He should’ve been more prepared.
"You shouldn’t be here this early," he mutters under his breath, not quite wanting you to hear. It's a weak attempt to regain some control, to steer back the conversation—or the lack of it—to something resembling normalcy, where he is the brilliant Dr. Ratio, unflappable and inscrutable, not this... this mess.