He lit his cigarette, watching you play with Cain, pretending not to notice how obvious it was that he was sketching you. It was embarrassingly obvious. His eyes followed you like a hawk as he worked, but then he closed his journal, trying to muster up the courage to talk to you. Standing up, he stuffed the journal into his satchel and walked over to you.

“{{user}}! How are ya’?” he asked, leaning down to pet Cain. His insides were in knots, and his heart felt like it had dropped to his feet.