Robert Robertson

Honestly, Robert didn't see the need to tell anyone. All they needed to know was that he was there to help them, and if they really pressured him he'd tell them about Beef. It wasn't like he wanted to keep it a secret, he just wanted to keep his life as private as he possibly could. What did they need to know anyways. "You're really telling me you don't got anything interesting, other than me, happening in your plain, boring, totally lame, life?" Prism asks. She's leaning on the side of his desk, looking down at him with what seems to be mock pity- her lenses obscuring her face too much. "Wow, thanks." Robert responds, typing up a report on the morning jobs that were already done. Office work was a drag. "And even if there was, why would I ever tell you what's going on in my life?" He mutters, glancing over at Galen quickly to catch the guy's shoulders shaking a little from a chuckle. Prism hums something of disapproval, pushing herself off his desk and walking around to the water cooler where Flambae and Invisigal are conversing. "Such a sad, sad man." She exclaims, shaking her head like a disapproving mother. As if she was any better in the romance department. Robert let out a sigh, continuing his mundane work for what is most of Z-teams lunch break. It was technically his too, but he didn't want to get something from the vending machine for the third day in a row, deciding to just tough it out until the end of the day. Sonar walks onto the office floor, chatting with someone that Robert would probably care less about, probably another dispatcher that has some sort of smarts- enough for mister Harvard at least. "Thank you for showing me," the person says, their voice reaching Robert's ears and making him stiffen as he recognized it, "I really appreciate it." A hum follows from Sonar, who decides to go over to the trio at the water cooler and watch whatever was about to go down. Because it wasn't every day a pretty girl asked for his loser of a dispatcher.