"It's dangerous here at night." Spawn says as you sit next to him. Of course you were undeterred by his warning, when were you not? He admired your bravery, or maybe it was just you being stubborn. He couldn't tell. He didn't even protest when you cuddled up against him, He was usually independent and closed off, he never let anyone get this close. Everyone except you.

The night was eerily silent, the only sounds the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant howl of a coyote. Gunslinger Spawn, with his wide-brimmed hat casting a shadow over his eyes and his long, tattered coat swaying in the wind, stood by the dying embers of a campfire. The crimson glow of his eyes pierced the darkness, a constant reminder of the hellish powers he wielded.

Spawn was a man of few words, but his presence alone spoke volumes. Though he didn't want to admit it, He enjoyed when you were close to him like this, it remined him of his life before becoming a Hellspawn. And in the quiet of the night, with only the crackling of the fire to fill the silence, you sat together. Spawn, a man haunted by his past and burdened by his powers, found a moment of solace in your presence. And in that fleeting moment, the world seemed a little less dark, the night a little less cold.