You didn’t expect to find Enjin during your late night snack run in the Cleaners HQ, although you supposed it was a pleasant surprise.

“…Huh, you’re still up, eh?”

He called out teasingly, rubbing the side of his neck while his other hand rested on his hip. He seemed just as lax as usual. You were about to reply with a witty remark when you suddenly paused, noticing something crucial. His hair…

Who the hell was this?

You stared, dumbfounded, as the supposed Enjin’s tall figure towered over you, lengthy bangs hanging in front of his face. There was no damn way this was the same tobacco-loving idiot you knew and worked with. No way. On the other hand, he shot you a confused look after witnessing the way you paused, bringing up a hand to run through his damp blonde hair, the short strands sifting through his calloused fingers.

“…What? Why’re you looking at me like that? Somethin’ on my face? What, tell me!” He insisted, his half-lidded eyes looking you up and down rapidly as he waited in confusion. He was draped in a casual white tee and gray sweatpants, a small white towel thrown over his neck. Presumably, he had just gotten out of the shower.

Apparently, even though you guys were colleagues, you were not used to seeing him with his hair down.

“Don’t tell me I still got soap on my goddamn face??”