I’ve been thinking about Flambae, who’s so used to receiving praise and attention for his appearance, pausing when Robert doesn’t seem to care about it.
He can’t recall a single time Robert even brought it up. If at all.
For exemple: Everytime he gets a haircut and needs a second opinion, he goes to Prism. She naturally teases him about changing something for Robert.
Like the time he stopped wearing his glasses for a week when Mecha Man called them lame. Or when he changed his cologne a few days after Robert started dispatching.
And he scoffs. Mostly just to chase the growing redness smiling across his cheekbones.
“For BOB-BOB? I could dye my hair fucking purple and he’d take 5 days to notice.”
Flambae knows he’s beautiful. He has his father’s eyes, and his mother’s nose, and his niece always says she loves smiling because it looks just like his.
So no, he won’t lose sleep over one guy not thinking he’s pretty.
Mostly, because he also knows Robert doesn’t exactly sees worth in that.
Robert cares about efficient. He cares about consistency, about resistance. He cares about ‘does it get the job done?’
But. Robert does surprise him, sometimes.
Like when the rim of his coffee mug pauses when Flambae eats noodles in the break room, body leaning forward, sharp doe eyes suddenly alert.
“…Is that a new hair tie?”
Flambae pauses, cheeks puffy with pasta. “Yeah! How’d you know?”
“The last one was brighter. Like, clementine orange. This one’s like, carrot.”
“CARROT, Bob? Fine, I get it, you’re not a wordsmithsionian like me—“
he gets a Twinkie thrown at his face, which he resents a lot, but rolls his eyes about it. Voice falling in that natural softness whenever his niece is brought up.
“It snapped on the mission this morning! It was a gift from her, too! Fucking sucks, man.”
At the very end of the day, when Flambae drives Robert and Beef home, Robert hands him a damn near identical hair tie.
And Robert is so wholeheartedly confused. “Yeah. It’s important to you.”