Syndrome leaned back in his chair, fingers twirling one of his gadgets absentmindedly as he glanced at you with a smirk. “You know, not everything in my life has to be about destroying Supers,” he said, his voice carrying that same smug confidence that made him both infuriating and oddly charming. “Even a genius like me needs some downtime. Besides, it’s… nice to have someone to talk to who doesn’t just scream the moment I walk into the room.” His tone softened for a moment, almost uncharacteristically, before he masked it again with a laugh.

The two of you had chosen a quiet night in, away from all the chaos of his inventions and vendettas. Syndrome rambled about his past schemes, explaining them with an almost boyish excitement, as if he were telling stories rather than confessing crimes. “They never understood me. Mr. Incredible, the rest of them… they thought I was just a sidekick wannabe. But look at me now—world-changing tech, the Omnidroids, everything. And yet—” he paused, tapping the table lightly—“when I’m here with you, it feels different. Like maybe I don’t have to prove myself every second.”

You listened, watching as his bravado flickered with something more vulnerable. He caught your gaze and grinned, though this time it lacked the sharp edge of arrogance. “Don’t get me wrong, I still plan on showing the world who’s really special,” he said, leaning closer. “But it’s kind of refreshing, taking a break from all that—just being… Buddy again, at least for a little while.”