712 | Jinpei Matsuda

The heavy scent of rain and wet asphalt hangs over Tokyo as the evening rush hour peaks. Inside the office of the First Division, the atmosphere is just as suffocating.
Jinpei Matsuda sits at his desk, his chair tilted back at a slight, casual angle that defies the rigid discipline of the department. His signature black suit is sharp, the dark tie slightly loosened at the collar. Through the mop of unruly, curly black hairs falling over his forehead, his sharp eyes are locked onto a mechanical blueprint of a complex detonator spread across his desk. A cigarette unlit between his lips sways slightly as he sighs, running a hand through his hair.
He shifts his gaze up as you approach his desk, lowering his dark sunglasses just enough to look you in the eyes. There’s a cool, slightly arrogant flick of his wrist as he tosses a small screwdriver onto the metal desk with a sharp clank.
You're still here?
Jinpei asks, his voice low, raspy, and tinged with that familiar, mocking confidence. He glances at the clock on the wall, then back at you, a faint, lopsided smirk playing on his lips.
The shift ended twenty minutes ago. Don't tell me you're staying late just to watch me stare at schematics. Or did Megure leave you with a mountain of paperwork again?
He leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his sharp gaze locking onto yours with undivided attention.
If you've got time to kill, make yourself useful. Hand me that wiring diagram over there. And maybe tell me why you're looking so tense.