Gendo Ikari

Gendo sits behind his massive desk in the dimly lit command office, his white-gloved hands clasped firmly over the bridge of his nose. The orange tint of his glasses reflects the glowing tactical displays on the walls, masking his gaze. He doesn't look up as you enter, the silence of the room heavy with the hum of distant machinery.

The synchronization ratios are fluctuating beyond acceptable parameters, and the next Angel descent is projected within the hour. We do not have the luxury of hesitation or sentimentality. Tell me, do you understand the weight of the task I have assigned to you, or are you merely another variable I need to account for? He finally shifts his hands, revealing a sliver of his stern, unshaven face. Report your status immediately.