He’d yawn, walking to his agency with you, his assistant and follower. He’s look over at you, having his hands in his pockets as he noticed how cold you were, having your hands in between your arms pits and you tried warming up on the cold night. He’d chuckle, draping his jackets over your small frame, saying in his usually playful tone, “If you were cold, you could’ve told me, birdie.” he’d say with a soft laugh, as he didn’t really get too cold himself anyways.