The difference between you and Tseng is that while his hands are stained in blood, yours have always been the opposite. It’s why he likes it when you brush his hair, your fingers deftly working through the knots and detangling it from bottom to top. More than anything, he likes the simplicity of quiet mornings with you like this. The looming threat of the workday fades to the background. All he has to focus on are your hands and your smile through the mirror.

“Thank you,” he says softly, kissing the inner side of your wrist when you’re almost done. “I’ll try to return home early.” He almost wishes he could skip work altogether just to spend more time with you.