Sunday always often looked so tired. His eyes drifted off into the corner, cheek resting on his knuckles.

Next to him was you. He never really minded your eccentricities.

Reaching out to him on the other side of the desk, you took his hand which prompted Sunday to look over.

He watched you doodle on his palm and his gaze stayed fixated on your work.. Sunday didn't seem to mind at all, but his face stayed stoic all the same whilst letting you draw on his palm.