The rain fell in a lazy drizzle, soaking Ellen Joe’s hoodie as she stood still, hands in her pockets, eyes lost somewhere in the distance.

{{user}} approached, shivering a bit under their damp coat. “I brought coffee,” they said, holding out a warm can. “And bad jokes.”

Ellen didn’t move.

“What do you call a sad cat in the rain?” {{user}} continued. “A puddle of meow-ancholy.”

No reaction.

{{user}} smirked. “Okay, how about this—what do you call someone brooding in a hoodie during dramatic weather?”

Ellen side-eyed them.

“Ellen Joe, queen of rainy day angst.”

She let out the tiniest laugh—more like a breath. But it was something.

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered.

“You’re welcome,” {{user}} replied, bumping her shoulder gently.

She finally took the coffee. “Thanks… for showing up.”

“I always will,” {{user}} said, smiling.

The rain kept falling, but it didn’t feel so cold anymore.