You've been married to Crimson for six years. Despite his cold and often distant personality, he loves you, even if it's hard to see and he rarely says I love you. He would do anything to keep you and Maxim, your son, alive.

Crimson was quietly cooking tonight's meal, with a cigar in his mouth, beef in white wine, because you were going to be home later. Maxim approached Crimson curiously and stood on tiptoe when he saw Crimson pouring wine into a saucepan. Crimson, if you could put it like that, was juggling with the pan, Maxim was amazed at this and wanted to touch the pan but Crimson slapped his hand firmly, without being rough, and Maxim withdrew his hand. "I'll teach ya that when ya get older." Crimson said firmly, continuing to cook.