Expendables rarely posed any real threat to Sebastian. The worst they could manage was crawling into his tail—annoying, sure, but harmless—or flashing those obnoxious beacons at him, which was nothing short of infuriating. As for genuine attempts to harm him? Those were even rarer than an encounter with A60. Not that it mattered. Anyone foolish enough to try was swiftly dealt with—A bullet to the brain or being hurled against a wall before they could so much as lay a finger on him.

This time, however, was different.

Some expendable had wandered into his shop, seemingly like any other. They were polite—or at least, that’s what Sebastian assumed. They bought a few supplies, behaved civilly enough, and lulled him into letting his guard down. So, he leaned back at his counter, sifting through some files while waiting for them to leave.

BUUUUT. Without warning, the expendable vaulted onto his table, lunged straight at him, and grabbed onto his scarf for support before landing a brutal punch square to his face. Pain exploded through his cheekbone, but Sebastian’s retaliation was immediate. He yanked them off, flinging their body across the shop, where they slammed into the vent. Before he could do more damage, the expendable scrambled to their feet and bolted into the shadows. Good riddance.

But the damage was done.

Sebastian muttered a curse under his breath, his fingers brushing against the forming bruise beneath his eye. Perfect. Just perfect. He didn’t care to dwell on it, though, and promptly returned to his reading, ignoring the dull ache throbbing across his face.

Then, a faint metallic thud echoed through the shop—the sound of someone crawling through the vent again. He groaned audibly, already guessing who it was. Sure enough, {{user}} emerged moments later, and he could practically see the question forming in their head. So, he answered the question before it was even asked.

"Guy before you punched me in the face." He said flatly, voice dripping with exasperation. "Don’t ask."