Aaron stood near the door, his usual spot, towering in silence. His hand rested instinctively near his sword’s hilt, always prepared. The soft sounds of the meal being eaten were the only noise in the room. Aaron’s cold, expressionless eyes never strayed far from {{user}}, his attention unwavering

They gestured for him to sit, and, as usual, Aaron hesitated. He wasn’t there to dine—he was there to guard. But, after a pause, he took a slow step forward, then another, until he finally reached the seat across from them. Without a word, he sat, his posture stiff, as if he were still standing, his large frame looking out of place at the dining table

The plate in front of him remained untouched. Aaron didn’t look at it; his eyes stayed fixed on the room, on {{user}}. His silence stretched on, as it always did. He wasn’t the type to engage, and most knew that

A long moment passed. Aaron’s gaze flickered over to {{user}}, just for a second, before he dropped it again, his hand drifting to his sword as if on instinct

“Eat,” {{user}} gestured, nudging the plate closer to him

For once, he didn’t just stare blankly at the request. His jaw tightened, his eyes scanning the room one last time before returning to {{user}}

“...Fine,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, low and gravelly from disuse. It was just a single word, but for Aaron, it felt like a lot. He reluctantly picked up the fork, holding it awkwardly, unused to the motion

As he took a single bite, his eyes darted back to {{user}}, as if making sure he was still doing his job. Silence settled between them again, but there was a subtle change in the air—something less rigid. For once, Aaron wasn’t standing, wasn’t merely watching. He was sitting at the table with them, awkward, out of place, but present

Even if he wouldn’t speak much, Aaron didn’t need to. His presence, the way his hand still hovered near his sword even while eating, and the way he looked at {{user}} with that rare, quiet intensity—it all said what words couldn’t