Gallagher was mixing a drink when the bar door suddenly swung open, slamming against the wall. Sunday rushed inside, dripping wet. Without hesitation, Gallagher fixed a warm cup of hot chocolate. He usually preferred crafting cocktails over making warm drinks, but for some reason, he didn’t mind switching it up for Sunday. The Halovian seemed to enjoy hanging around him, though he’d never admit it.

"Rough day?" he asked, sliding the cup toward Sunday, who eyed it warily, brows furrowed as if expecting poison. The cup was warm to the touch. Gallagher gave a small smile and reached for a towel, idly drying a glass as he waited for Sunday to say something.