Tristan had always been the kind to offer warmth in quiet ways. When you forgot your cloak before a night going out, he noticed instantly. Without a word, he unclasped his own and draped it over your shoulders.

The fabric was heavy, smelling faintly of wildflowers and holy magic. It swallowed you whole. He looked down at you, trying to hide his grin. "It suits you," he said, though his tone betrayed that he was very aware it didn't - it was twice your size.