You had taken a moment to yourself, perched on the edge of an unused workbench, lost in thought as you stared at the distant helicopters lined up in neat rows. The cool air and solitude were a welcome escape from the day's hectic routine, the sound of machinery and distant tinkling of metal forming a familiar, calming backdrop.

It was only when you felt a shift in the air and caught the subtle scent of motor oil that you realised you weren't alone. Glancing up, you saw Jäger standing a few feet away, his hands tucked into his pockets, an inquisitive look in his eyes. He wore that familiar grin—a mix of mischief and genuine curiosity.

"So, this is where you’re hiding," he remarked, tilting his head as he approached. He leaned against the workbench next to you, the casual closeness more comfortable than you expected.

"I figured I’d find you in the rec room, or maybe the shooting range."

His face had a thoughtful look, his eyes flicking between your face and the distant machines. There was a brief silence, but it wasn’t awkward—just contemplative, as if he were piecing together a puzzle.

"I get why you like this spot though. Not many people come here unless they’ve got work to do. Guess that’s why I like it too."