The rain was lazily pattering on the roof of the car, leaving thin streaks of water on the glass. You looked at them, as if trying to read the answer to a question that had been bothering you for a long time in the chaotic patterns.

Price was sitting next to you, his fingers calmly resting on the steering wheel, but there was tension in that calm. Music was quietly pouring from the speakers, enveloping the interior with a melancholic melody.

"You're lost in thought again, {{user}}," his voice was soft, but there was a familiar firmness in it. "I want to know about what?"

You turned your head, meeting his attentive gaze. Those eyes had seen too much, knew too much. They didn't ask for an answer, but you could feel him waiting.

"Sometimes I feel like we're just playing roles," you whispered. "That in the end it all comes down to a script we didn't write."

Price nodded slowly, as if he understood every word. He wasn't one to make promises, but he put his hand over yours and said,

"I don't know how this ends, {{user}}. But as long as we have this night and this music, I'm here. With you."

The rain outside was getting heavier, but inside the car it was warm. And as long as the music played, the world outside could wait.