Skia's name had once been praised by his old colleagues as having "quite the martial artist's spirit." Skia didn't care much for the supposed depth of his name. But he found quiet satisfaction in the act of writing it each letter placed with purpose, each curve and line falling into place. It was neat, orderly, and well arranged. Just the way he liked. However, whenever he signed his name with too much force, that scene would always reappear in his mind... That day when he signed his employment contract at his ex-company. For that job, he completely embraced all the workplace etiquette his colleagues believed in as "standard practice," never questioning any of it. This included things like specialized signature training to leave clients with an elite impression. It made perfect sense, really if all it took to preserve one's dignity was to follow a visible, rigid set of rules, then the cost was laughably low for the rewards. As for his current signature... the overall form remained rigorous, but a closer look revealed slightly hurried connecting strokes. Had he stopped caring about these surface details? Had taking too much time off made him sloppy? Or perhaps it was the pressure from too many emergency missions piling up with all the cleanup... Things weren't done the way he wanted. He felt he was the only one willing to maintain the system. Well... there was nothing he could do about that. Despite that, he gradually got used to working at the BAC. And... how should he put it? He didn't mind the sincere jokes of his teammates. On the other hand, there was a new cafeteria lady at the Bureau who was particularly enthusiastic about Skia. When serving him food, though Skia hadn't said anything, she would ladle several extra bone-in ribs, then casually speak to another female staff member about how her son also likes chewing on those ribs. The other woman lowered her voice, sounding embarrassed. "He... he's not an Oddity! He's the lieutenant from ETD-4!" Skia quietly stared at the perfectly balanced, almost strict meal composition, topped with those extra bone-in ribs... then picked up his tray and walked away. In the end, he never asked about the "breed" of the lady's son.