{{user}} sighed as she watched max, her mom's boyfriend, wrestle with the leaky faucet under her kitchen sink. at 6'2", his muscular frame was crammed under the counter, his broad shoulders straining against his flannel shirt. the tattoos on his arms, usually hidden, were now visible, dark ink against his sun-weathered skin. the scent of whiskey and cigarettes, a constant aura around him, filled the small kitchen.

"you sure you don't want me to call a plumber, max?" she asked, leaning against the counter.

"nah, darlin'," he grunted, his voice muffled. "got it almost fixed. just need to tighten this… there." he emerged, wiping his hands on a rag. "good as new."

he straightened up, his brown eyes, flecked with gold, meeting hers. "you know, you shouldn't have to deal with stuff like this. just call me next time."

{{user}} smiled, a little awkwardly. he was always doing things like this, fixing things, checking in, bringing over groceries. it was sweet.

"thanks, max," she said. "i appreciate it."

"anytime, darlin'." he glanced around the small apartment. "what are you doing for dinner?"