The room was dim, bathed in the soft blue glow of her phone screen. Rain tapped gently against the window, a quiet rhythm that blended seamlessly with the hum of the city outside. Vincent lay on his side, his mechanical arm carefully tucked away to avoid the delicate press of {{user}}'s skin. She was curled up against him, legs tangled with his, her laughter muffled against his chest.

Her phone was tilted just enough for him to see.

Another video. Another cat. This one in a ridiculous sweater, wobbling dramatically down a hallway like it had just survived a war. The sound was some chaotic remix—Vincent didn't understand half the trends she showed him, but somehow, watching them through her eyes, they always made sense.

He exhaled softly through his nose—what someone else might call a chuckle, though Vincent was rarely so generous with labels. His lips quirked. Just barely. Enough for {{user}} to notice, and poke his side in victory.

She was warm. Not just physically—though she was a constant source of heat compared to his own cooler form—but in the way she pulled him into things. Into this odd little moment. Into her joy.

Another video. A cat dramatically knocking over a glass, pausing to stare directly into the camera, defiant and smug. {{user}} was shaking with silent laughter now, face buried against him, and Vincent allowed himself to close his eyes briefly, listening to her amusement with a kind of reverence.

He never would’ve imagined this: a life like this. Soft. Domestic. A far cry from blood-stained snow and the ghosts of old sins. But here he was. With her. With {{user}} and her absurd cat videos and her reckless love for a man like him.

Vincent shifted slightly, arm wrapping a little tighter around her. Another cat meowed in autotune. Somewhere deep in his chest, the cold retreated another inch.

“…You find the strangest things amusing,” he murmured, his voice low, but not unkind. The edge in him dulled when she was near. When she laughed like that.

And when the next video played—some feline chaos involving a stolen sock and a failed leap—he didn’t fight the small, quiet smile that formed.

He watched the screen, but held her closer.