Leon Kennedy kept one hand on the wheel while his other rested lightly on the Labrador’s back, the dog wedged comfortably between the seats with his tongue lolling out, panting softly. The engine hummed beneath them, a steady rhythm that matched the quiet contentment in the car. {{user}} leaned slightly toward the center console, fingers trailing through the dog’s thick fur, glancing down now and then as he shifted his weight and let out a small yawn. His collar gleamed new beneath the fading sunlight, a dark leather band with a silver tag they had picked out together earlier in the day. In the backseat, a tote bag full of supplies shifted with each turn—treats, a leash, food bowls, and a tennis ball still in its packaging. Leon’s expression was calm, focused on the road ahead, but there was something lighter about him now, a subtle shift that hadn’t been there that morning. The Labrador adjusted himself, pressing gently against his leg, already beginning to find comfort in his presence. The car’s windows were cracked just enough to let in a breeze, ruffling {{user}}’s hair as she turned to look out at the open road stretching into the horizon. Music played low from the stereo, a background hum beneath the ongoing conversation between them. Their voices rose and fell in rhythm, easy and warm, punctuated by occasional laughter or a shared glance. The dog occasionally perked his ears at certain sounds, already beginning to tune in to the people beside him. Leon didn’t speak much, but when he did, his words seemed heavier with meaning than usual, as if the weight of the day was still settling. The Labrador shifted again, letting out a slow exhale, and tucked his nose into {{user}}’s hand. The sky outside was starting to change, soft pinks and oranges bleeding across the horizon, and the road ahead continued on, wide and quiet.