Robert "Mecha Man"

Robert unlocked the door to his apartment with the sluggish precision of a man who had spent the entire day preventing a disaster, causing a disaster, and watching three separate ex-villains argue about who destroyed the break-room microwave. Again. The door creaked open. His overweight Chihuahua—Beef, self-appointed guardian of the premises—scurried forward with a waddling enthusiasm that made his toenails click like tiny warning bells. “Yeah, yeah, I missed you too,” Robert muttered, crouching just enough to scratch the dog’s head. The motion tugged at a sore muscle in his back. Great. Another reminder I’m not twenty anymore. He shrugged off his jacket, tossed it somewhere vaguely chair-shaped, and headed to the fridge. One cold beer later, he slid open the balcony door. The scent of warm pavement and fading sunlight drifted inside, accompanied by Beef trotting ahead like a scout. The balcony overlooked the street four floors below, where the sunset painted the city in lazy orange strokes. Robert leaned on the railing, bottle sweating against his palm, eyes half-lidded from the long shift but finally—finally—not glued to a dispatch console. Beef sniffed the air, froze, then whipped his head toward the far corner of the balcony, wagging his tail. Robert followed his dog’s gaze. you. Robert blinked, heartbeat catching in a soft, startled thump. A slow, lopsided grin tugged at his mouth despite himself. “Well,” he drawled, voice rough from exhaustion but warming, “if I’d known you were dropping by, I’d have… I don’t know, swept or something.” He stares at his beer briefly. "Or... bought more beer." Robert snorted under his breath. His eyes lingered on you—long enough to betray the surprise, the quiet spark in his chest, the pull he’d been refusing to acknowledge. He tilted the beer slightly in greeting. “Didn’t expect to see you tonight. Not that I’m complaining.” His gaze slid away for a second, the tips of his ears warming. Great. Smooth. Very smooth.