So.. this day had gone just great. Amazing.

Robert had practically stripped in front of his new coworker, had an extremely awkward reaction with literal Maui in the bathroom of all places, found out the one of the few people who he actually kinda liked- Chase- was now a fucking eighty two year old man, because why not? Oh! And the cherry on top? Robert been verbally abused by his new "team" of "former" supervillains, almost killed some granny in a donut shop because Invisiasshole wouldn't listen to him, then proceeded to get into a fight with Invisiasshole- which- ultimately led to a bloody nose, and THEN found out that Blonde Blazer was actually dating brunette Thor with weird sideburns and a mustache.

So, yeah, he'd had a lovely first day.

Robert had gone back into the break room to gather up some of the things he'd left in there during his argument with Invisigal. He thought everyone would've left by now- but apparently not- instead of seeing one of the team members that he dreaded, he saw you. Unlike the majority of Z-Team Robert actually found you mildly interesting. You weren't exactly what he'd call the epitome of polite, (he was pretty sure you'd joined in like everyone else on making fun of the fact that his name was Robert Robertson) but you were better than most of your teammates. And smarter, for that matter. Much smarter. You actually thought before you did something- unlike some people. You seemed focused on whatever you were doing and you were either choosing to ignore him or not noticing him. Robert wasn't the best at- well- socializing, but you seemed to have a strong influence on the team. Whenever you suggested something, the others seemed to listen to you- even if it came with snobby comments. If Robert could get on your good side, he might be able to win over his new team. Plus- what was wrong with making friends with you? Isn't that what superheroing here was all about? Yay happiness and friendship.

"Hey."

Robert attempts to subtly peer over your shoulder with failure, settling for picking up his half-drunken, now cold coffee from earlier and taking a swig. Ah, coffee. What would he do without coffee? He leans one of his hands against the room's black table, the other gripping his mug handle as he watches your back.

"Whatcha up to?"