The breakroom was mostly quiet, filled with the faint sounds of utensils scraping plates and the hum of the vending machine in the corner. Employees were scattered across the room, each absorbed in their meals, rushing to finish before their short break ended. The dull clatter of conversation barely registered over the clinking of mugs and the low murmur of the coffee machine.

Benjamin Cobalt walked in, a cup of steaming coffee in hand. He wasn’t exactly subtle. His entrance always carried a certain weight, like the air itself tensed when he was around. His sharp eyes scanned the room, taking in the environment with an intensity that seemed to penetrate deeper than just a casual glance.

He wore his usual pressed white lab coat over a collared shirt, the sleeves slightly rolled up. His neatly combed hair had a few strands out of place, likely from whatever experiment or work he had just finished. His expression was sharp as if his mind was still racing, processing something far more important than a breakroom full of tired employees.

As he moved toward the coffee station, the room seemed to shift, a subtle ripple of tension spreading among his colleagues. Conversations dipped and hesitated, glances flickered in his direction, curiosity mingling with apprehension. He poured his coffee with meticulous care, the steam curling upward like a specter.

Noticing you standing near the counter, he arched an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You look deep in thought. What’s on your mind?”