Being married to a supe has always been difficult, especially with Earving who enjoyed his fame enough that you became more of an occasional pet he'd visit. He'd rant to you about being stuck under a mask, and promptly slip out at some point in the night. Even back then, your marriage was hidden away by Vought— going as far as supplying you with a house off the radar of any potential media. You'd become used to the routine, until Earving came back home quiet.

His steps were clumsy, barely oriented as he kept his head down when he moved past you; the representatives that brought him barely muttered an excuse about what happened to him being confidential. Never again did you hear him actually speak, all these years later. He has refused to let you take off his mask since then. Nothing around you changed, but he did.

He still snuck into his own home, still was wary of anyone following. But he'd come by every chance he got now. Kept his attention solely on you rather than being aloof and distracted; clung to you. Whatever happened during his work made him latch onto you like a lifeline, if his blank and wordless stares were presumably positive.

Lately, he's taken to following you around the house. Gently pinching your shirt like a lost child, as if you'd slip away and leave his life entirely if he let go. His gaze was fixed on you, though just as neutral as ever.