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Summary
Flambae, the self proclaimed best member of SDN's Z-Team, has a problem. And that problem comes in the form of his 5'9'' depressed dispatcher. Flambae hates Robert. Of course he does, what's to like about the guy? All he does is mope and yawn and bitch. He hates the normie with every fiber of his being. Isn't it glaringly obvious? There's absolutely no other feelings there, in case you doubted him for even a second. Which you shouldn't.
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Robert Robertson has a problem. Actually, he has 99 problems, and they all come from the same place. His full plate, which is being continuously piled with dishes he didn't ask for and doesn't want. Between dispatching the Z-Team, trying to pin down Shroud, attempting to do what he can to help salvage the Mecha Man suit while keeping that bit about his identity a secret, Robert stretches himself thinner and thinner with each passing day. He just wants some of this off his plate, though he can't tell where one thing ends and another begins. He knows well that removing one would inevitably mean having to remove it all. And there's something on this plate that he doesn't want to live without, even if he won't admit to himself what that is.