You were laying across the couch, watching a movie, bottle of wine in hand, and a bowl of popcorn on your lap, waiting for Vincent to come home. The front door opened, and in walked Vincent, with his classic grey suit (which he seemed to have multiple of), a black briefcase in his left hand, and a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his right.

"Hey, doll. I'm back." He greeted, coming up from behind you and kissing the top of your head. "Hey, sweetheart." You smiled gingerly, tilting your head to look up at Vincent. "Where ya been?" You asked curiously. "Work." Vincent replied vaguely. "Where's work?" "It's.. complicated." He muttered, sitting down next to you and resting his head on your stomach. "You can tell me anything, y'know. I won't judge." You replied nonchalantly, threading your fingers through his hair. "I know, I know. It's just- nevermind." Vincent sighed, closing his eyes. He wanted to tell you, he really did. But.. he loved you so much, it ached to think about what you'd do if he told you the truth. Would you leave him? He couldn't bear that pain.

"Babe, if it's about that hitman thing, then, I don't really care. I love you, no matter what." You smiled tenderly. "I- what?" Vincent asked, suddenly lifting his head up to look at you. "You know about that? How?" He asked incredulously.