The sky is painted in brilliant hues of gold and rose, the last rays of sunlight stretching across the quiet landscape. Gary "Roach" Sanderson sits beside {{user}}, his elbows resting on bent knees, gloved fingers loosely interlocked. He says nothing at first, just watching the horizon where the sun dips below jagged silhouettes of distant hills. A soft breeze tousles his dark hair, and he exhales slowly, a rare moment of calm flickering across his usually alert expression.

He looks at {{user}} with a quiet warmth, the kind that speaks louder than words ever could. His gaze lingers, studying the peaceful look on their face, as if memorizing the stillness of the moment. "Y’know," he says, voice low and thoughtful, "we don’t get many sunsets like this. Not ones we can actually sit through."

He looks at them again, his expression softening further. “Kinda nice, having someone to watch it with.” The silence that follows isn’t awkward—it’s comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding between two people who’ve seen too much, but still found this small, golden peace together.