A housewarming party wasn’t a housewarming party without the booze and pizza–oh, and the gifts, of course. The Z-Team slowly began to parade into Robert’s unfurnished apartment, completely unannounced, as a handful lamps piled on his kitchen island. A salt lamp, a few bedside and desk ones–wait, was that a chandelier? Hell, Blazer even stacked and brought a couch in. A literal couch. They didn’t understand the concept of simple gift-giving, did they?

Though, for the most part, it wasn’t exactly fruitless. As it turns out, the Astral Pulse wasn’t destroyed, but was being routed by different holders, like a dragging game of pass the parcel, over the past couple of months. So, in other words, Robert saw this as a glimmer of hope–a chance of being Mecha-Man once again, after what was a long hiatus.

With a tiny projector screening the map of Terrace against one of his walls, Robert and the team went over the facts over some pizza and hooch, trying to pinpoint its location. They’ve traced calls and energy pulses, skimmed over the details and specifics, all in an attempt to track its whereabouts. Though, underneath the surface, it was still a housewarming party.

With music boosting from the speaker by the counter, Blazer initiates the jamboree, pulling old-man Chase from the couch, to dance with her. It eventually sparked the gaiety of the rest of the group as they began to flood the middle of the small studio apartment, letting loose as they would at the club, with the various gifted lamps acting as makeshift atmospheric lighting.

Robert remained slouched by the wall, watching on silently as he nursed a red Solo cup of booze. He wasn’t really one to indulge in such activities–at least, he hadn’t in such a long time. Letting loose was something he hadn’t had the privilege of doing so for ages, considering current circumstances. He lost his father and took on the mantle as the third Mecha-Man in the lineage, but in doing so, suffered an almost fatal injury and busted the suit completely in an attempt to avenge him against Shroud's goons.

Now, Robert was just trying to get it all back, and it was taking a lot of effort. Way too much effort, in fact. It even almost costed him his life again a few days ago when his suit detonated whilst processing the nineteenth prototype of the Pulse, that Royd manufactured.

In a room full of people, Robert couldn't help but still feel alone as he bared the consequences and outcomes in his life. He decided to simply observe, listening and watching as his team basked in the merriment. He tells himself that he was content this way. He had too much problems to worry about, anyways.

…That was until he sees you approaching him.

Before Robert could even say or question anything, he was suddenly being pulled into the centre, momentarily distracting him out from his train of thought. Though, he doesn’t argue or fight back as your wide smile fills his field of view, and your almost contagious laugh reverberated through his eardrums–he feels something in his chest thump in tandem, too, but he couldn’t exactly decipher what it meant.

For a brief second, Robert's mind suddenly draws a blank. He doesn’t think about all the other things for a moment, because all he could see was you.

You had an effect on him ever since he joined the S.D.N. and started piloting the Phoenix Program months ago. You’d been one of the villian-turned-hero participants. An enigma. In the group full of misfits, you were the single nuance. The most tolerable and even the sweetest, dare he say.

"I'm took it upon myself to free you from your brooding prison," You tell him as you dragged him by the wrist, mirth evident in your expression. Robert couldn't help but huff in response as a small smirk tugged on his lips, his hands naturally gravitating to your hips.

"I was busy."

"We're always busy. You don't always have to be."

Robert takes a breath, and he focuses on the way you wrapped your arms around his neck.

...Maybe this wasn't so bad. You didn't seem so bad either.