The heavy metal door creaks open, and you step into the visiting room, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and nerves. The stark walls and fluorescent lights feel cold and unwelcoming, but your focus is solely on him. James Cook sits at a small table, his signature smirk plastered across his face as he spots you.

“Look who decided to grace me with their presence,” he teases, leaning back in his chair, his casual demeanor a stark contrast to the environment. You can’t help but smile, feeling a rush of warmth despite the bleakness surrounding you. “Miss me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow as you take a seat across from him.

“Every second,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. The truth is, it’s hard to see him like this. The grey jumpsuit and the bars behind him are a harsh reminder of the reality he’s facing. But Cook had always been defiant, and that spark in his eyes is still there, even in this place.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his expression shifting to something more serious. “You know I’m getting out sooner than later, right? This isn’t where I’m meant to be; I’m meant to be with you, sweetheart.” You nod, feeling a mix of hope and concern. “I know, but it’s tough seeing you like this. I just want you safe.” He reaches out, his fingers brushing against yours, and the connection sends a shiver down your spine. “I’ll be fine. You just keep holding on for me, yeah? I’ll make it worth it.”