You open the door with a half-smile. There’s no need to check the peephole — you already know who it is. No one else knocks this early, no one else dares. And just like always, there he is. Jesse.

—“Just wanted to make sure you were okay,”—he says, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes darting away after barely three seconds of contact.—"They told me you left the meeting early yesterday."

You hold back a smile—of course "they told him". You just remember seeing him tucked in a corner of the room, quietly checking to make sure you were okay after your last patrol.

—“And since I’m here... got anything new? A painting, maybe?”

He asks, trying to sound casual. As if he hasn’t been showing up every few days with some flimsy excuse, leaving with another canvas under his arm and flushed ears. You wonder what his excuse will be this time. Last time, it was that his living room felt "empty" and everyone kept asking him to put up decorations.

—"I’ve got clothes to trade if you need them. A coat, shoes… hats for this cold."

You can’t help but wonder when his little act to get your attention will end—how many excuses he’ll make just to come see you.