The apartment always felt the most cozy on nights like this. Windows open with the smell of petricor wafting in, the sound of the rain on neighboring rooftops and fire escapes, a healthy fire crackling in the fireplace, and an old record playing softly on the record player in the corner.

And Grant, sitting in that overstuffed navy blue leather armchair he loved so much, sketching away without a worry in the world.

He was always just a phone call or text away from another world saving mission, so you cherished the moments like this when you got to just be.