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"Just one hint," Malevola pleaded. Prism leaned against her chair, eyeing Robert expectantly.
Robert stared at them briefly, deliberating over his response. He settled on honesty. They wouldn't believe him, and they wouldn't be able to link it to his identity as Mecha Man anyway.
"Sure. I can't die."
Prism sighed in frustration. "Oh come on! Don't be like that."
_______________________________________Robert Robertson III was eight when he realized he had a super power. It was also the first time he died.
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Robert has to discipline Flambae at work, and gets a different kind of discipline later
Series
- Part 10 of Frenemies with Benefits
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My hands are not clean (they can still carry you home) by Arcturus_Ish
Fandoms: Dispatch (Video Game)
30 Nov 2025
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Summary
The thing about plastic chairs is that they weren't a great substitute for an actual bed; the other thing is, Robert can't exactly afford to be picky and even if he 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 the internal debate is still ongoing as to whether or not he deserves a mattress at this current point in his life.
So, the plastic chair stays and is staying for the foreseeable future. Besides, it's charming - in a depressing, minimalism-that-is-totally-not-a-reflection-of-his-inner-sense-of-worth way.
Or:The fic where Robert has chronic pain and Flambae has warm hands. The two of them will figure out what to do about that eventually, right?
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Robert has chronic pain, and he has a REALLY bad flare-up at the end of his shift. Instead of asking for help, he toughs it out, and then is late to his shift the next day. He looks rough, yeah. Maybe Chad does have to take pity on him, but that’s all it is! He doesn’t like the bitch or anything.
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Robert raised a brow.
“Damn,” He commented, shaking his head. “That dick would have to be life-changing for me to cook you breakfast after the first night together.”
Flambae gave him a considering glance. “Can you even cook?”