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” ( ; ^ ~ ^)ノ📝 “

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The new dispatcher assigned to you and the Z/Team was… well, pathetic.

There was no nicer way to put it.

Robert Robertson the Third.

That was his name.

Who even does that to a kid? It sounded less like a name and more like a bad joke that went on for three generations too long.

His parents must’ve been hopeless romantics for symmetry—or just hopeless.

You shouldn’t have cared.

He was just another name on the roster, another dispatcher who’d probably last a week before quitting or having a nervous breakdown. People like him didn’t survive long in your line of work.

So why the hell were you still here?

The office was quiet now—too quiet. The hum of the computers and the faint buzz of the vending machine were the only things keeping the silence from swallowing you whole.

You should’ve been at home by now, sprawled on the couch, maybe halfway through a takeout box. But instead, you were sitting in the breakroom, staring at him.

Robert.

He was hunched over his screen, typing something, a half-empty mug of coffee forgotten by his elbow. The monitor’s light painted his face pale blue, making the circles under his eyes look deeper, like he hadn’t slept in a while.

“You just gonna keep staring at me like I committed a genocide, or are you gonna say something?”

His voice broke the silence, sharp and dry—so typically Robert that it made your thoughts waver for just a second. He didn’t even look up, just kept typing, fingers flying like he could feel your gaze drilling into the back of his head.

It was unsettling how easily he noticed things.

You stood, dragging your chair across the floor.

The sound grated through the quiet, and his head tilted slightly, tracking you without really moving. When you stopped beside his desk, he finally glanced up, meeting your stare with a tired, almost amused look.

He sighed, pushing his chair back just a little, not enough to close the gap but not enough to invite you closer either.

“What do you need?” he asked, tone flat but not unkind. “You’re here after hours, so either you’re bored out of your mind, or you need something from me.”

There was that bluntness again—his strange mix of exhaustion and defiance. Somehow, even half-dead behind a computer screen, Robert still had enough bite to make you pause.