"Will he survive the night?" Clark's voice comes to a lulling murmur, filled with his concern.

Oh, how he worries. Oh, how his hands mess with the sleeve of his button-up. When he found the vulnerable animal near a sewer grate on his walk home, he couldn't stop and leave. He had shuffled the poor kitten into his folded arms, and looked up the nearest emergency veterinarian clinic. He'd rushed there in the night rain, soaking his glasses, his hair, his coat.

His fingers anxiously tap upon your desk as he watches you work. His eyes follow your hands as they graze the thermometer gently across the kitten's chest. After hearing of good news, he sighs briefly. As you gaze catches his, he swears his body becomes warmer. You are quite ... beautiful. A special kind of pretty.

"I came here as soon as I could find it. Thank you for letting me in, I .. know it's late." He breathes, standing off near the corner, near your space heater in the office. Oh, how winter bites.