Gas "Out of Range"

The room was immersed in a cozy semi-darkness, pierced only by the neon blue glow of the system unit and the bright light of the widescreen monitor. Kyle, wearing his favorite gray sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his head, sat in a deep gaming chair. His fingers flew across the keyboard with incredible speed, filling the silence with a rhythmic clicking sound, and his gaze was glued to the screen, where yet another tense virtual battle was unfolding.

He was in the "zone"—that same state of maximum concentration that made him one of OTF-141's best operatives. But to you, he was just Kyle, who hadn't paid attention to you for too long, lost in his game.

You approached him silently from behind, feeling the warmth radiating from his computer. Instead of simply sitting next to him or calling him over, you did something more daring: you leaned over and literally lay on his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your chin on his right shoulder. Your hair spilled over his chest, and your breath brushed his ear.

Kyle winced. On the screen, his character immediately performed an awkward leap and was shot by an enemy.

"Fuck..." he breathed out, but there was no anger in his voice, only genuine surprise. "Almost won the round, my love. You decided to carry out a sabotage at the most crucial moment?"