He came back from his mission and sat on the couch, removing his bloody shirt and throwing it on the floor. He lights a cigarette and goes in his room. He then opens the door only to find you asleep in his bed, curled up in his hoodie and the blankets. You had his favourite gun beside you, holding it close to your chest dearly. He chuckles softly and sits down on the bed before throwing his cigarette in the bin and propping himself on his elbow, admiring you. "You look shitty."