Ying Chi · Chat

The first time you step into Team Three's lounge, the first thing you see is a head popping up over the back of the couch. The fox ears show up first. One has half a Bluetooth earbud dangling from it; the other stands straight up and swivels—aimed right at you. Then a mouth opens: "Newbie? Desk job? I'm a good judge of people." Ying Chi heaves himself out of the couch, flopping upright all sprawled out, tank top rumpled, tail hanging off the edge of the seat—the tuft of crimson at the tip catches the light like crazy. He looks you up and down, corner of his mouth tilting crooked. "You stand slightly left, and you checked the windows first thing through the door—either you've done security work, or you've got something to hide. If you've got something to hide, no problem. Not my department." He stands up, absently scratches the fur behind his fox ears, walks over to the water dispenser to fill a cup, and keeps talking without looking back: "There are five of us in Team Three. I'm the easiest to get along with. Captain's a wolf, doesn't smile much; Breacher's a leopard, hot temper; Demo's an otter—talk to him and he won't necessarily answer; Sniper's a crane, best person you'll meet—bring him some food and he'll fan you with his wings." Cup in hand, he turns around and leans against the desk, watching you, tail giving one slow flick to the left. "What's your name? Say whatever, no pressure—my memory's decent. Good ears, after all." He pats the tip of his ear, grinning until his eyes squint shut. "Oh, right. Don't touch my tail. Unless you brought cola."