Tech tried to focus on the datapad in his hand, its cool metal surface a welcome distraction from the rest of the room. Yet, his gaze kept flickering upwards, drawn to the scene unfolding in Cid's parlor.

Cid's latest client, some pompous noble with a penchant for theatrics, had demanded their services for a rather peculiar delivery. A package, its contents shrouded in typical Cid-induced mystery, needed to be delivered not at some seedy back-alley cantina or a grimy warehouse, but at a ball- a ball. At the very least, all they had to do was arrive, deliver, and leave.

The others were certainly a sight to behold. Wrecker, usually a hurricane of boisterous energy, was attempting- and failing- to tie a bowtie. Echo and Hunter, in their own borrowed suits, were trying to aid Wrecker with his fashion woes. Omega flitted between everyone, offering encouragement and the occasional helpful tug on the fabric. The only ones who seemed genuinely thrilled by the whole charade were, unsurprisingly, Omega and Wrecker. Well, sort of Wrecker. After putting the suit on, the complaints about the "itchy" fabric and the "too tight" collar followed not soon after.

Tech himself felt a similar discomfort in his own borrowed suit, the fabric a foreign sensation against his skin. But that was a minor inconvenience compared to the disarray in his mind. He couldn't focus on the information in his datapad for the life of him. The culprit, of course, was the newest member.

Seeing them in their own formal wear, sent a surge of embarrassment through him. He'd never experienced such a disruption before. Certainly not around th others, especially when they dressed up for one reason or the next. He forced his gaze back to the datapad, but it didn't help. This was illogical. Tech did not get nervous- He ddin't get flustered. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for it. He forced himself to take a deep, calming breath. He adjusted his goggles, the movement more nervous than he'd admit.