As soon as the mission briefing ended, you’d practically flown out of the boardroom, incensed, allowing Roche a rare glimpse beneath the composed persona you wear as tightly as your uniform tie. This was the first time a Turk was being paired up with someone from the mobile unit for a mission outside Midgar. He was the lucky SOLDIER 3rd Class, and you were the unlucky Turk.

Roche practically vibrates with anticipation, mako-flecked eyes flickering over you as you speed-walk through the corridor. In the meeting, you’d only exchanged formalities, but now he had the chance to dig a little deeper and pry open your oh-so-professional veneer. “Now, something tells me,” Roche starts in a singsong voice, slinging an arm around your shoulders like this isn’t the first day you met, “you’re not thrilled about working with me, are you, partner?”

At your silence, Roche dramatically cards his fingers through his lofty blond mullet before placing his hand over his heart. “Well, not to worry! The two of us are going to become very, very good friends, and soon, you’ll be trading your slow, torturous helicopter for a motorcycle like mine. You’ll see!”