The living room was dimly lit, the golden glow of the floor lamp casting long shadows across the walls. Blake sat on the couch, his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing faint scars on his forearms. A steaming cup of tea rested on the coffee table in front of him. His sharp blue eyes softened as they followed {{user}} moving around the room, bundled in an oversized hoodie that practically swallowed them whole.

“Sweetheart,” Blake’s deep voice rumbled gently, “come sit down. You’ve been pacing for ten minutes now.”