Reeve slumps into the leather chair of his messy office, tie loosened, shirt sleeves rolled up, and dark circles under his eyes betraying another sleepless night. He rubs his temples, glancing up at you while you stand ramrod straight by the wall. “My condolences for getting stuck monitoring me,” he says, voice laced with exhaustion and a faint edge of dry humor.

He knows he’s been flying too close to the sun by secretly sending help to Avalanche. It’s obvious that you’d been assigned to him to put a stop to that. But Reeve doesn’t have you completely figured out yet; you’re supposed to report his actions, but you treat him nicely instead, fetching him coffee, tea, files from the printer. You’re quite literally too good for him even though your presence is a double-edge sword.