Roach

It could be said that most people assigned to the Arklay Research Facility were a tad bit eccentric. With the nature of their research, it was expected that only “non-ordinary” people could continue to do work here. In Wesker’s opinion, the crazier ones seem to last the longest.

Despite all of his colleagues’ oddities, however, they are still human. People, with routines and habits and quirks. They’re expressive, they converse, they feel frustration or excitement or even love. Hell, even Birkin met Annette in a place like this—and he was one of the stranger chief researchers here. That’s not to say the people here aren’t good at keeping a lid on things, they’re just not very withdrawn.

You, however, seem to keep a lid on everything.

Wesker was not a people person, but he has a habit of observing them. Reading into their body language and manner of speech, then digging out information he found to be useful. Admittedly, it was a challenge trying to read into you, reserved as you were. 

You weren’t exactly introverted. Conversing with your colleagues when it came to work was no problem, though it was obvious that they found you a little off-putting. The flat, monotone voice paired with a face that barely showed any indication of interest or annoyance came off uncanny to most. You were so unreactive too, not even a flinch escapes you when a screaming test subject is wheeled in.

That wasn’t the interesting part, though. Many others could do what you do. What piqued his interest was something you said after a year of working under him.

Alexia Ashford had arrived at the research facility as a chief researcher. Wesker knew of the legacy the Ashfords’ held at the company, often hearing his seniors sing the praises of the “great” Professor Edward Ashford whenever they had hit a wall in their research. Although Alexia’s achievements were impressive, especially for someone so young, he was not as easily swayed.

With her arrival, his daft, good for nothing subordinates raved on and on about her prodigal intelligence. It was irritating that so many who worked under him were this mindless and so easily persuaded by a child whose only accreditation was being a descendant of a great researcher. It’s not like the Antarctic Research Center founded by her father had even procured any useful results. How she had gained such a reputation amongst his colleagues so quickly nearly baffled him. If you told these mindless drones to jump, they wouldn’t even know how unless you showed them. 

Even Birkin—driven by envy from being upstaged by a 10-year-old—had thrown himself further into his work, his hurried pace an obvious response to Alexia’s presence. Even his pride had taken a hit in response to his perceived “defeat” after no longer being the youngest researcher there.

You, on the other hand, were a breath of fresh air.

Alexia’s arrival was something you took little note of, placed at the back of your mind like you had better things to care about. From your perspective, you probably did. It isn’t as if you thought yourself more intelligent than her, you were well aware of where you stood. However, the only thing that mattered was your work—and unless Alexia was somehow related to it, she didn’t matter to you. Like always, you kept to yourself when you could, so absorbed into your own tasks but never unaware of what went on around you.

One day, he asked for your thoughts on the new chief researcher. He wasn’t one for gossip, but his curiosity for you had grown bit by bit, and he wanted to know what was going on inside that head of yours.

There was so much inside you that he wanted to pry open and see.

“She’s not in the way of our work,” you had said, eyes darting from his glasses to the report in front of you, never wanting to part from your data for even a small conversation. “I suppose she’s interesting, but I… I’d rather be focusing on other priorities.”

Your statement nearly made him smirk in amusement. Focus on other priorities. Basically formal speech for “I don’t care”. It was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. Since then, he has been fascinated by you.

Like him, you were a good judge of character, opinion not as easily swayed by rumours or someone’s supposed “reputation”. Someone who isn’t mindless and pathetic like the others are. For the first time in a while, Wesker felt excited.

It never shows on his face, of course. If people think you’re off putting, they find Wesker absolutely eerie. Even without his glasses acting as a barrier between him and others, people still struggled to keep eye contact with him. Staring into his pale blue eyes felt cold and unfeeling, striking a chill into most who spoke with him.

The two of you were so alike—so passionate about the work you do, so uninterested in people or their activities, so detached from most things that you deem unimportant or don’t benefit you. He needed more people like you, it’d be more practical and efficient.

Over time he ensured your schedule revolved around his own more, assigning you to work during his hours or convince you he needed some help so you’d stay later hours with just him. And every time you would show up or stay, because you never really needed much convincing to do what you’ve always loved to do. Wesker, of course, was delighted, grabbing at every opportunity to occupy your time.

Whether you notice his intentions or not was unimportant to him. To put it frankly, he doesn’t care, and he suspects that if he does not get in the way of your research, you wouldn’t care either. But you’re not stupid, he knows that. You’re definitely aware, and the knowledge of you being aware of his intentions nearly makes him giddy.