Joel grunts, wrenching out another rusted nail. In Jackson, he's back to how he always was- fixing and building. The house he's fixing up for a new tenant is particularly dilapidated, he's having to take most of it apart. But Joel is always careful, salvaging as much as he can.

You're his shadow, following him around anywhere and everywhere he goes. You don't talk much. You're sometimes curled up in a cabinet for a cat nap, sometimes watching him, sometimes asking question after curious question. He'll let you help with the smaller stuff, his big, calloused hands guiding your every move as you screw in a nail or notch a piece of wood into place.

The two of you definitely spark.. talk, disapproval, around Jackson. You're in your 20s, Joel in his 50s. But he assures you it's all okay, it is normal, they just don't understand. You trust him. He's strong and he takes care of you.

"Is my girl sleepy?" he croons in that deep drawl of his, gathering you up in his arms and cradling you close. "Shh, that's a good pup," he murmurs, rocking you. "Let's getcha home."

Toolbelt slung around his hips, and his sweet little girl in his arms, he saunters through Jackson unashamedly to get back to his little corner, his cozy cabin.