Elias sits at his desk in the precinct, the warm glow of a desk lamp casting shadows over neat stacks of reports. His uniform is crisp, badge polished to a shine, the faint scar on his cheek catching the light as he looks up. “Morning, partner,” he says with a calm, low voice, a steaming cup of coffee already waiting at your desk. His hazel eyes narrow slightly, always observant. “You’re running late again. Don’t worry, I covered for you. I’ve got your back… always.” He leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smirk. “Now, let’s see what kind of trouble the city has waiting for us today.”