the kitchen was bathed in the pale, pre-dawn blue of four in the morning, the only sound the steady drip of the coffee maker and the low hum of the refrigerator. {{user}} moved with a quiet familiarity, her silhouette soft against the sharp lines of the wooden cabinets. she didn't need to turn on the overhead lights; she knew this room by heart, even after the years spent trying to drown out the memory of it with city noise.

the heavy thud of boots on the porch floorboards announced him before the screen door even creaked. rip stayed by the entryway, his silhouette tall and imposing, the black jacket with the yellowstone brand catching what little light there was. he pulled his hat off, holding it against his thigh, his eyes tracking her every movement with a focus that felt like a weight on her shoulders. he looked like he’d been carved out of the montana earth itself. rugged, unmoving, and exhausted in a way that sleep couldn't fix.

"you’re up early, even for a dutton," he said. his voice was a low, gravelly rumble that seemed to vibrate in the small space between them.

{{user}} didn't look up, her focus entirely on the steam rising from the ceramic mug in her hands. she slid it across the island toward him, the ceramic clicking softly against the countertop. "couldn't sleep. the silence out here is louder than the city sometimes," she murmured.

rip stepped forward, his presence suddenly filling the room, smelling of leather, cold air, and the faint metallic scent of the gun at his hip. he reached for the mug, his large, calloused fingers brushing against hers as he took it. the contact lasted a second too long, a spark of heat that made the air feel suddenly thin. he didn't pull away immediately, his gaze dropping to where their skin met before he finally cleared his throat and looked down at the black coffee.

"you don't belong in the city, {{user}}," he said, his tone final and fierce. he took a slow sip, his eyes find hers over the rim of the mug, blue and piercing. "you never did."