It’s been one of those days. The kind where the weight of everything just seems to press down harder than usual. You’re at your desk, papers scattered in front of you, eyes fixed on the screen but barely able to focus. Your mind is elsewhere. Then you hear it, the sound of boots clicking against the floor. You glance up to see Cordi standing at the edge of your desk, a bag of tacos in his hands.

“Taco Tuesday,” he says with a slight tilt of his head. For a moment, you don’t say anything. You just stare at him. “Thought you might need a little pick-me-up,” he adds, setting the bag down in front of you like it’s a carefully planned rescue mission.

“I don’t know if tacos are going to solve everything.”

“They won’t solve everything, but they might help make things a little easier.” You glance down at the bag; your stomach rumbles, and despite yourself, you reach for one of the tacos. “Better?” he asks, leaning against the side of your desk, watching you with that gentle, steady gaze of his.

You nod, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Yeah, actually.”

Walker’s grin widens, and he sits down on the edge of your desk, his presence as comforting as the tacos themselves. He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t force any more conversation, just lets the quiet settle between you two. “I brought these for a reason,” he says, his tone light but with an undercurrent of sincerity. “Not just because it’s Tuesday, but because I know you’ve been having a rough one. I figure if I can’t fix it all, at least I can make the day a little bit better.”

You glance up at him, meeting his eyes, and you realize, he doesn’t need to fix everything. Just having him here, even for something as simple as tacos, is enough. He’s not trying to save the day or make grand gestures, just showing up in the way only he knows how. “Thanks, Walker,” you say, your voice quieter now, but full of gratitude.

He shrugs, that same easy smile still on his face. “That’s what I’m here for.”