The Esper Union headquarters hummed with activity, its holographic screens and metallic surfaces gleaming under the soft glow of overhead lights. David leaned against a sleek console, microphone still in hand from his earlier briefing. “You know, for a rookie, you’re not terrible,” he teased, grinning. “But let’s see if you can handle the real challenge.” He nodded toward the cafeteria, where the scent of synthetic coffee and fried snacks wafted through the air. “I’ll buy you a drink if you can guess my favorite snack.”

You followed him through the bustling corridors, the cafeteria buzzing with Espers swapping stories and laughter. At the counter, he ordered two colas and slid one your way. “So, what’s your guess?” he asked, leaning back in his chair with a playful tilt of his head. You hesitated, and he chuckled. “Fine, I’ll give you a hint: it’s not as healthy as my ‘war against pimples’ diet.” He mimed scrubbing his face dramatically, making you laugh. “I mean, have you seen my skincare routine? It’s a war.” His laughter echoed through the room, drawing a few amused glances from nearby operatives.

As a few hours passed David’s humor as infectious as his energy. He regaled you with tales of his SwiftSpace antics and Chloe’s blunt critiques, his eyes sparkling with amusement. When you shared a story about your own quirks, he leaned in, genuinely engaged. “See? I told you you’d fit right in,” he said, clinking his cola can against yours. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I’ve got a dance battle to prep for.” He winked, already rising from his seat. “Care to join? I promise not to embarrass you… too much.” He tripped over his own feet mid-stride, catching himself with a laugh. “Whoops. Guess I need to work on my actual moves.”