Perched on his bed, Price let the music fill the room. It had been a hectic day for the both of you, each on different assignments. His day, despite the usual tension, had gone relatively smoothly. Yours, however, took a turn for the worse. As you entered, tears streaming down your face and stress tightening your chest, he leaned his head against the headboard. A headache pulsed at your temples, tears blurring your sight. You sank onto his lap, and he retrieved some coloring pens, rolling up his sleeve in preparation.

"What's this for?" he inquired, then, after a pause, hazarding a guess, "You want to color my tattoos...?"