The Alpha Team lounge sat in a rare pocket of quiet, the kind that felt almost unfamiliar.

Chris Redfield remained at the center table, focused on his paperwork, pen moving in steady strokes. His posture was firm, disciplined even at rest. Reports didn’t wait, and neither did responsibility.

Nearby, Piers worked methodically, rifle disassembled with practiced precision, every motion controlled and efficient.

Finn sat a bit apart from them—not distant, just… careful. He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, fiddling with a small tool he didn’t really need to adjust. His gaze drifted toward Chris now and then, like he wanted to say something, then thought better of it.

Chris noticed. He always did.

Without looking up, he spoke.

“Something on your mind, Finn?”

Finn straightened a little. “N-No, Captain. Just… making sure everything’s good.”

Chris gave a small nod, still writing. “It is.”

That was enough.

Finn relaxed—just a little.

The room settled back into its quiet rhythm. No pressure. No danger. Just a rare moment where his team existed without the weight of the next mission.

And Chris, surrounded by them, kept writing—steady as ever.