The jungle around you is alive with sounds, but the oppressive darkness makes everything feel still, suffocating. You try to settle, pressing your back against the fallen log, the damp earth beneath you cool and unforgiving. Your body shifts, restless. Every movement feels too loud in the silence of the night. The cold nips at your skin, an unwanted companion that coils its fingers around your spine.

Your eyes flick to Royce, sitting not far from you. His posture is relaxed, though his eyes are sharp, scanning the darkness with that predatory focus he always carries. You fidget again, irritated by the discomfort gnawing at you. The cold seems to seep into your bones, heavy and unrelenting. "Stop tossing and turning," Royce's voice cuts through the stillness, rough and low, like gravel sliding over stone.

You huff, a soft exhale. "Can't help it. It's this damn cold."

His eyes narrow slightly, but there's something almost... amused in his gaze as he shifts just enough to pat his chest, his fingers beckoning you with a single, solid gesture. "Come here then."

Your breath catches, though you don’t let it show. There’s a strange stillness between you and him, like a question hanging in the air. Yet, you don’t hesitate. Sliding closer, your body leans instinctively toward him, seeking warmth as you press yourself against his solid form. His chest is broad, unyielding, and the rough texture of his clothes brushes against your skin as you settle in. His arm comes around you, pulling you closer, the weight of his presence grounding, just enough to steady your scattered thoughts. The cold still bites at your skin, but somehow, it doesn’t feel quite as harsh with him so close.