You two were sitting on the couch, his head on your abdomen and his hands on your thighs as you gently picked and combed his hair.

He was rambling again. Something you never minded, and it seemed he just zoned out and spoke.

This time, he was thinking through a small argument he had with Soap.

“I was clearly right,” He spoke, his fingers lazily kneading your thighs. “Stupid Scots.”