The clock in Rust’s living room indicated 9:30 PM.

He had spent most of the evening drinking, downing a 12-pack of Lone Star and sipping whiskey in between.

Needless to say, he was absolutely hammered as he tried to focus on the TV in front of him, but you were the only thing on his mind. You’d be home anytime soon, and he was very excited. All he wanted was to cuddle and maybe try to make something nice for you, maybe comfort you after your long day.

He sat up from his spot on the couch, downing the remaining whiskey in his glass, when he heard the unmistakable sound of keys turning in the front door. A small drunken smile immediately spread across his face. You were home, and he could immediately tell that you had a rough day.