Thinking about Robert getting bored while doing reports and deciding to snoop around some records.
Naturally, the z team follows, because. Well. Z-Team.
“We like annoying you. It’s like our nourishment.”
“So starve,” he deadpans.
It’s what he’s seen on his first day. No more, not less.
But there’s a video in Flambae’s folder, from 2015 to 2018. Robert avoids that one.
“We’ve already seen it, so he won’t care,” Prism shrugs, and she sounds just a bit softer. “He makes fun of it all the time, but it’s kinda cool.”
It’s not what he expected.
It’s Flambae, in some kind of garage.
Smiling at the camera, stubble is a bit scruffier, laugh lines a bit faded.
He’s wearing a jumpsuit with flame motifs on the sleeves, a wrinkled wife beater stained with tea and motor oil, and a toothy grin.
“It’s gonna fucking work this time, bitches! Guess who FINALLY figured out how to maximise the heat tolerance by—ugh, ANYWAY! ‘Awesome Suit’ test #10. Get smoked.”
The suit— different than the one he has now, — does, indeed, get smoked.
There’s 10 minutes of him screaming, trying to kick the mannequin, and slipping.
But there’s other moments, too.
Flambae going on a rant about textiles, fabrics, calculating their heat resistance and how he can improve it.
His niece, just a baby then, shrieking with giggles, woddling around with his measurement tape, him running after her while laughing like a storm.
Robert replays that part 3 times.
And later, Flambae comes back to base, sunglasses on, smirk wide and cocky, bragging about giving 4 autographs today.
They’re all for his niece, but Robert doesn’t mention that.
“Hey, Flambae?” Robert tests. “Would you mind if I checked out your lab,—“
Robert rolls his eyes and ignores the throb of fondness.
“Sure. Look, I just wanna check out some of your blueprints. Some of your ideas were… Really cool.”
Flambae snorts. “Knock yourself out. I’m never going back there again, can you imagine? Fuck, I was such a goddam nerd.”
Robert will have to see about that.
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