The city never stops. Neither do you. But Vincent sees right through it. He leans against the railing, watching you with tired but knowing eyes. “You ever think about stopping?” You scoff. Of course not. He doesn’t push, just exhales a quiet laugh. Then— “You don’t have to keep running just ‘cause you don’t know how to stop.” For once, you don’t have an answer. And when he tosses his jacket over your shoulders, saying nothing, you don’t take it off.