Chapter 13
Standard Operating Procedures for Workplace Integration
Finn
“—completely obsessed with the vintage Moog synthesizer in his office,” Lennon was saying, gesturing wildly. “Nobody’s allowed to touch it except Casey. Sometimes late at night you can hear him composing these absolutely haunting—”
My attention split as I watched Alex through the glass partition. The transformation was immediate and total—shoulders straightening, chin lifting, every line of her body shifting. Professional armor sliding into place—like she was suiting up for battle.
“—like he’s the Phantom of Animation. Oh, you’re not listening to me at all, are you?” Lennon’s voice carried amused accusation.
“Sorry,” I dragged my focus back to them. “You were saying something about late-night musical compositions?”
“I was testing whether you’re completely gone for our girl,” Lennon’s grin widened. “And you absolutely are. It’s adorable.”
Heat crept up my neck. “She’s—”
“Magical? Revolutionary? The best thing to happen to this company and probably your entire existence?” Lennon waved their hand dismissively. “Honey, you’re preaching to the choir. I’ve been Team Alex since day one.”
I pulled out my phone, needing a distraction from Lennon’s uncomfortably accurate assessment. The selfie with Dom’s character cutout filled the screen—both of us grinning like idiots, my arm slung around the cardboard warrior’s shoulders.
Perfect.
Me: Look who I found at Alexs studio. Your characters shorter than I expected. Can you sign it for me?
I attached the photo and hit send, then pocketed the phone and turned back to Lennon, who was watching me with obvious interest.
“So,” they settled against the reception desk like they were preparing for an in-depth report. “Tell me everything. How did you two meet? When did you realize you were completely screwed? What’s your five-year plan?”
“That’s a lot of questions.”
“I’m a very curious person, Finn. Also, Alex never brings anyone here. Ever. You’re either very special or she’s having some kind of breakdown, and frankly, you don’t look like the breakdown type.”
My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen and snorted. Dom had responded with a single middle finger emoji, followed immediately by a second text.
Dom: sign your own shit asshole
“Something amusing?” Lennon leaned forward, trying to peek at my phone.
“My brother’s a child,” I showed them the emoji response. “This is what passes for sophisticated communication in the Walker family.”
“Your brother?” Their eyebrows shot up. “Wait. Walker? As in...” They gestured toward the cardboard cutout.
“Dom is, unfortunately, my twin,” I couldn’t stop my mouth from hitching to the side.
Lennon’s jaw dropped with all the subtlety of a drawbridge. “You’re Dominik Walker’s twin? Holy Hermes, that explains the bone structure. And the ridiculous charm. And why you’re not even slightly intimidated by this place.”
“Should I be intimidated?”
“Most people are. Alex has a reputation for being brilliantly terrifying when she wants to be. Apex predator energy.” Lennon studied me with renewed interest. “But you’ve probably seen worse, I’d guess. Military, right?”
“Navy pilot,” the automatic response came out before I could edit it. Former Navy pilot felt too complicated for casual conversation.
“Ah,” something shifted in Lennon’s expression—their eyes flicking across me in shrewd assessment. “Casey’s going to want to meet you. He’s got this whole theory about military procedures and creative problem-solving. Very into systems and efficiency.”
“Casey’s the—?”
“Creative director. Handles art, design, writing, et. al. Dabbles in programming and code. Real renaissance man,” Lennon pushed off from the desk. “Come on, let me show you around before Alex emerges from whatever important thing she’s orchestrating.”
The main floor revealed a space designed for both creativity and function—open collaborative areas balanced with quiet corners, natural light streaming through large windows. As we passed Oliver’s office, I caught the murmur of voices behind pulled privacy shades.
“Break time,” Lennon announced, leading me into a space dominated by an impressive espresso machine. “Also known as Casey’s secondary office and Jordan’s kingdom of overcomplicated brewing methods.”
A man with dark wavy hair and sharp features looked up from what sounded like a very serious conversation with a French press. He wore slim dark jeans and a shirt covered in tiny geometric foxes.
“Did someone say my name?” he smiled.
“Casey, meet Finn,” Lennon made introductions with a flourish. “Alex’s incredibly handsome and charming boyfriend, and Dom’s twin brother.”
Casey’s eyes lit up. “Brother. You’re the pilot.”
“Was,” my correction came out more clipped than I’d intended.
“Right,” Casey nodded—no change in expression. “I remember the story from awhile back. Glad you made it out.”
“Thanks,” the tension in my shoulders eased slightly. “Lennon mentioned you’re over creative?”
“Animation’s our bread and butter. Keeps the lights on so we can fund employee-driven game development,” Casey leaned against the counter, clearly warming to the topic. “Legends of Heliox isn’t the norm around here, but it certainly helped put us on the map.”
Before I could respond, another voice joined the conversation from around the corner.
“Casey, are we still on for the Sherlock demo this afternoon? Because I’ve been working on some voice-command integrations that might—”
The speaker appeared—pale, ginger hair that looked like it had been styled with a ruler, wire-rimmed glasses perched on a nose that seemed too small for his face. Everything about him screamed computer lab dweller, from his obsessively pressed khakis to his obsessively tucked polo shirt.
“Oh. Hello,” he pushed his glasses up his nose. “I’m Jordan. Dev and programming director.”
His handshake felt calculated and the quick visual sweep he gave me felt more like data collection than curiosity.
“Finn,” I kept my voice neutral. “Alex’s boyfriend.”
“Alex’s boyfriend,” Jordan’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And did I hear something about pilot?”
“Former Navy.”
“Interesting. Are you planning to stay in the area? I mean, long-term?”
The question hung in the air with odd weight. Casey shot Jordan a look I couldn’t quite interpret—warning, maybe, or irritation.
“That depends on a lot of things,” I said carefully, Jordan’s question feeling like an interrogation disguised as small talk.
“Of course, of course,” his laugh sounded forced. “I just meant with everything happening with the company lately, Alex has been pretty focused on... business decisions.”
“Jordan,” Casey’s voice carried a definite warning note now.
“What? I’m just making conversation,” Jordan’s defensive tone suggested he was doing anything but.
I noted a familiar weight starting at the base of my skull—just enough low-level tension that meant I should start monitoring.
My phone buzzed again—probably Dom sending something equally mature in response to my lack of reply to his emoji. But before I could check it, familiar energy materialized behind us.
“How’s the tour going?” Alex’s voice sounded detached—she was operating on autopilot.
I turned to find her scanning the room with calculating eyes—tracking who was where, clearly reading the tension I could feel building between Casey and Jordan. Her gaze landed on me and she smiled, but it looked practiced rather than genuine.
“Educational,” I responded automatically, which earned a snort from Lennon.
“Casey’s been explaining the animation-to-game pipeline,” they added. “Jordan’s been asking probing questions about Finn’s long-term plans.”
Alex’s expression hardened almost imperceptibly, her focused stare snapping to the dev. “Jordan, don’t you have the Sherlock documentation to finish?”
“Right, yes. Of course,” Jordan pushed his glasses up again, recognizing the dismissal. “Nice meeting you, Finn. I’m sure we’ll talk more later.”
Casey watched him go with noticeable relief.
“What’s Sherlock?” I asked, more to fill the awkward silence than out of actual curiosity.
“AI development assistant,” Casey turned back to me. “Helps with coding, debugging, technical problem-solving. We’ve been working on expanding its capabilities for both our animation pipeline and game development.”
“Along with Jordan’s capabilities for making everyone uncomfortable,” Lennon muttered under their breath.
Alex shot them a look that probably would have been sharper if I hadn’t been standing there. The distance in her expression hadn’t faded—if anything, it seemed more pronounced now, like she was calculating something several steps ahead and to the right of the current conversation.
I checked my phone. Dom had indeed sent a follow-up.
Dom: tell alex I said you’re not allowed to date anyone cooler than me
I showed Alex the message, watching her expression shift from calculating to genuine amusement.
“Like I’m breaking up with you to save his ego,” she snorted. “Should I be worried about his approval?”
“Nah. He’s just jealous I found someone who actually runs a successful business instead of pretending to be fictional characters for money.”
“Hey,” Casey protested with mock outrage. “Fictional characters pay very well, thank you very much. How do you think we fund all this?” He gestured around the break room.
“And they’re usually much less maintenance than real people,” Lennon added.
The easy banter felt normal in a way I hadn’t experienced much since returning home. But I kept noticing the way Alex held herself slightly apart from the conversation—as if most of her attention was elsewhere entirely.
“Finn?” Her voice held a note of careful examination as her gaze moved over me. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah,” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Just soaking this all in.”