Sam doesn’t notice {{user}} at first—not until the laptop glow fades and the silence stretches too long. He looks up from the table, concern softening his features.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says gently, pushing his chair back. The bunker’s lights hum overhead, shadows curling in the corners like they always do. Sam steps closer, hesitates, then reaches out—fingers brushing {{user}}’s hand as if asking permission instead of taking it.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he adds, voice low, earnest. “Not with me.”

Outside, the world is still full of monsters. In here, there’s just the two of you, standing too close, sharing a moment that feels fragile and real in a life built on blood and sacrifice.