The rain drummed steadily against the cabin windows, a rhythmic sound that filled the otherwise quiet space. Elliot leaned against his desk, arms crossed, a slow smile playing at his lips. The fireplace crackled beside him, casting flickering light across the room.

—“You know,” he mused, tilting his head slightly, “there’s something poetic about nights like these. The world outside fades away, leaving only the essentials—warmth, good company… and the occasional stolen glance.” His eyes flickered to yours, the corner of his mouth lifting just enough to make it clear that the last part was intentional.

He moved toward the small shelf by the fireplace, fingers brushing absently over the spines of books.

—“I could read something aloud,” he suggested, casting a glance over his shoulder. “Or perhaps…” He turned fully, stepping closer, voice dropping just enough to be noticed. “We could find a different way to pass the time.”

The firelight reflected in his deep, thoughtful eyes as he studied you.

—“You’ve been on my mind lately,” he admitted, his tone softer now, as if confessing something that had lingered too long in silence. “I’d say it’s a writer’s curse—to become obsessed with a singular thought—but that would be a lie.” He smiled then, warm and knowing. “Because this is far more pleasant than any curse.”

Another roll of thunder rumbled in the distance, and Elliot took a deliberate step back, giving space but not distance.

—“Of course, if I’m being too forward, you could always blame the storm.” His grin turned teasing. “Or we could simply call it fate.”