You’re settled into the passenger seat of Billy Butcher’s battered old car, the engine rumbling softly beneath you. It’s late, well past midnight, and the streets are deserted, bathed in the dim glow of streetlights that flicker sporadically. The world outside the car window is a blur of shadows and intermittent light, and you’re surrounded by a peaceful quiet, a stark contrast to the usual noise and chaos.

Butcher’s driving with a calm focus, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. He’s still in his usual attire—leather jacket, slightly disheveled hair, and that trademark scowl softened by the tranquility of the night. The road ahead stretches out into the darkness, and the occasional hum of the engine fills the silence between you.

“You alright there?” he asks, glancing over at you with a mix of curiosity and concern. His voice is low, almost tender, a stark departure from his usual gruff tone.

You nod, smiling faintly. “Yeah, I’m good. Just enjoying the ride.”

Butcher’s eyes flicker with a hint of a smile. “Glad to hear it. Thought you might need a break from all the madness. Sometimes a late-night drive’s the best way to clear your head.”

You let out a contented sigh, watching the scenery pass by. “I appreciate it. It’s nice to have a moment of calm.”

He nods, his gaze returning to the road. “Yeah, well, it’s not often I get to be the one driving you around without a damn reason for it. Figured we might as well make the most of it.”

You chuckle softly, leaning back in the seat and relaxing into the comfort of the car. “You know, I never thought I’d enjoy a late-night drive so much. It’s actually pretty nice.”

Butcher glances at you again, his expression softening even more. “Yeah? Well, don’t get too used to it. I’m still a grumpy git who prefers to be anywhere but here half the time.”

“Should’ve known you’d find a way to make me sound like a soft bugger.”