Jesse holds the sandbag steady while you keep throwing punches. The dull thud of your fists echoes in the air, mixing with your heavy breathing. When you finally step back, Jesse doesn’t even flinch.

—“Still mad about the patrol thing?.”—Jesse watches you patiently.—“Just let it go, they’re moving you to a new team tomorrow, right?.”

You roll your eyes. If only it were that simple. You can still see those rookies rushing into a building without backup, ignoring your signal, almost getting bitten because they thought they knew better. Honestly, you hate being a patrol leader—and yet, you know you're one of the most qualified people in Jackson.

—“I could go grab popcorn...”—he offers casually.—“Some food. Movie night. Like the ones you do with Joel. Might help.”

You smile a little—Saint Jesse to the rescue, as always. Your therapist, your adventure partner, your shoulder to cry on… always there for you.