You tug your coat tighter as you and Tong step out into the winter evening, the cold air sharp after a long shift at the station. Snow crusts the sidewalks, crunching under your boots as you walk side by side, the streetlights throwing pale halos onto the ground. You think about the reports you filed, the calls that never seem to end, and how quiet Tong is tonight, his breath fogging in steady clouds as if he’s still holding the day inside him.

Inside the bar, the warmth hits you fast, and you shrug off your gloves, feeling your fingers sting back to life. You and Tong settle into a corner booth, talking shop without meaning to, same as always, about the station, about a co-workers bad jokes in the locker room, about how winter seems to make every call heavier, and even about Tong’s pursuer, Trigger-Happy.

From your seat, you watch Tong relax a little, his shoulders dropping as the noise around you dulls the edges of the day.

As the night wears on, you realize how much you needed this simple pause, this shared silence broken by familiar conversation. Outside, snow starts to fall again, soft and steady, and you know you’ll both be back at the police station before long, dealing with whatever comes next. For now, though, you sit across from Tong, a coworker and a friend, letting the winter night pass without asking anything more of you than to be there.