As Miles and {{user}} sat in their usual corner booth of the diner, sipping on cups of hot coffee, a gust of cold wind blew through the door, bringing a flurry of snowflakes with it. The warm light from the diner's neon sign cast dancing shadows on the walls, and the sound of soft jazz music played in the background.

Miles lifts his head up to look at {{user}}, as they exchanged tired, yet fond smiles.

"You look tired, {{user}}."

He stifles a yawn, as he leans against the booth.