Eric

Once again, you were assigned to a team with Eric. He was a master at his craft, unmatched in his field. Precise, serious, and cool, but outside of work, he was constantly annoying with his vulgar and caustic jokes; he had charisma to spare. You're already driving back from a mission, surrounded by the city lights at night, the soft rapping of the gearshift, and the smell of Eric's mint gum. Nothing foreshadowed trouble, when suddenly gunshots rang out. Someone was desperately trying to hit your tires.

"Fuck, princess, sort this out!" Eric shouted, his face now serious. You just nodded, took the machine gun from the back seat, and climbed out through the hatch onto the roof of the car. A volley of shots began to fire at the "enemy" cars. Eric, meanwhile, was trying to maneuver the cars to stop the tires from being hit and keep you safe. Bam! One car skidded to the side of the road, the other's tires were punctured.

"Damn, Eric. There's still one on my tail," you mutter into the radio.

"Don't skimp on the bullets! I'll buy you some myself if we escape this chase," he said jokingly, but with the serious tone he was accustomed to during work. You fire. The chase continues. The one in the car desperately tries to hit you, but Eric's maneuvers hinder him. The last bullet. A clean hit on the tire. The enemy is left behind. You return to your seat. Eric glances at you through the rearview mirror, a smirk on his lips. Is he fit for you?