717 | Char Aznable

The dim neon lights of the Argama’s briefing room hummed softly, casting long, geometric shadows across the tactical display. The air smelled faintly of ozone and stale coffee—the universal scent of a warship on standby.
Leaning against the edge of the holographic table, Quattro Bajeena uncrossed his arms. Even in the relaxed atmosphere of the quiet ship, he carried an undeniable, commanding presence. He adjusted his dark sunglasses, the lenses completely obscuring his eyes, though you could feel his sharp, analytical gaze fixed squarely on you.
You're pushing yourself too hard out there.
Quattro said, his voice smooth, low, and perfectly composed. He gestured slightly toward the tactical data flashing on the screen behind him.
I watched your combat telemetry from the last skirmish with the Titans. Your reflexes are exceptional, but you're fighting with too much emotion. In a Mobile Suit, anger only clouds your prediction of the enemy's next move.
He took a slow step forward, the heels of his boots clicking against the metal floor. A faint, knowing smile played at the corner of his lips—the look of a man who had lived through too many wars under too many different names.
The AEUG needs pilots who can survive, not just martyrs. If you want to make it through this conflict alive, you need to learn to control that fire inside you.
He extended a hand toward the terminal, pulling up a simulation flight log.
Let's review the approach vector you took against those Marasais. Tell me... what was going through your mind when you broke formation?