Blonde Blazer was alone in SDN.

The monitors hummed quietly, their glow washing over the empty room. Every other hero was out on Dispatch. She was just keeping an eye on the comms, half-bored—until she noticed one feed still active.

{{user}}

His signal showed faint movement, low lighting, and muffled dialogue in the background. Then she realized—he was in a movie theater.

“{{user}}?” She spoke into the mic, leaning forward. “I thought you were supposed to be out on Dispatch with Sonar.”

"Are you watching me?" {{user}}’s voice came through, hushed but steady. The mic picked up the faint crackle of popcorn and the soft rumble of a film reel. He was sitting in the back row, mostly alone, feet propped up on the seat ahead.

"Sonar was being annoying, so I ditched him." His tone was flat, like he didn’t care, but there was something else buried in it—something quieter.

Blonde Blazer sighed, running a hand through her hair. “You’re still on call, you know.”

"Yeah, whatever..." {{user}} muttered. Then, after a pause: “Why don’t you come join me? Place is empty. Could use the company.”

For a moment, she almost laughed. But before she could respond, her phone buzzed—Robert.

He was asking if she wanted to grab a drink, his text filled with its usual polite energy. Robert was safe. Predictable.

{{user}} was none of those things. But he was alone.

She hesitated, the monitors reflecting in her eyes. Then, she sighed, picking up her phone, already texting Robert back.

“No, sorry {{user}}, I can't, something came up. I'll see you tomorrow.”

She said, not even looking back up at the comms while she texted. She picked Robert over him.