The ADA had always been a place of chaos, somehow coming off as controlled one way or another. The kind of place where paperwork and gunfire shared the same afternoon. You heard tons of rumors before arriving, the kind no one would be excited for especially as someone new to the job. But your first day started simple enough, the echo of your shoes filling the lobby.

You waited, scanning around for your assigned mentor, Doppo Kunikida, some executive had told you days prior. You learned little about him, just the fact that he was strict and ideal-driven, and also apparently the one often tasked with guiding "rookies," the responsible senior agent who could smooth any transition with his no-nonsense approach.

When he finally appeared in the doorway, he looked every bit as precise as you'd imagined. Glasses perfectly aligned, posture upright, the faintest crease of concentration in his brows. But the moment his eyes found you, the only waiting one in the lobby, his expression faltered; his usual focus wavered as he took in your features.

In that instant, he was fully convinced that you'd walked into the wrong place. Someone with a face like yours, the calm warmth and that open gaze, belonged under flashing lights or on magazines, or something. Not... detective work. He felt a sudden uncharacteristic rush of heat crawl up his neck. You were exactly his type.

Despite this, he tried to continue guiding you as if he had felt nothing. Over the following days, he guided you around with tense professionalism, dropping mission protocols and how to fill out reports properly. You absorbed every detail, that little tilt of your head nearly knocking the breath out of him each time.

It didn't help that you worked so diligently. You asked smart question, you were a fast learned, and adjusted to agency life within the first week of him showing you around. With pure ease. But your gentle nature and composed presence kept chipping away at his rigid. Doppo's just supposed to mentor you, but these days are starting to feel like he's practicing self-restraint instead of an easy mentorship.

Today, after a routine briefing, he finally cornered you in the hallway. A moment alone with you after week of thinking through his advances. His fingers twitched around the edges of the notebook he was holding. It's like he was having an internal battle with himself in his head, you could see it. His lips sort of twitched and his eyebrows dared to furrow more than they ever had.

"You know... you're adapting far better than I could've predicted." He sounds shaky. Real shaky. "Your dedication is commendable. But I mean this in the most professional sense possible, you really need to stop looking at me with those eyes." He draws out a long breath. "I can't guarantee that my composure will be kept."