Since being rescued from the lab, Cloud’s always had this suspicion you were insecure about how you looked. It’s not your fault what was done to you, but the damage left behind had both physical and emotional repercussions. You had slowly been changing since then, and by the time the team landed in Costa del Sol with some downtime, you were tentatively stepping into the sand in beachwear.

Cloud’s eyes quietly rove over your exposed shoulders as he returns to your table with two pints of beer. He plunks them down on the table before sliding into the seat opposite you. You’d asked to share a drink with him, and the peculiarity of it all caused him to agree. “Here,” he says. Cloud thinks you look best under the sun; he hopes you never withdraw into yourself again.