Gun was used to it at this point — sitting and listening to you talk about whatever it was that bothered you, or excited you or quite literally anything.

He was sat down at the current moment, his legs spread as you stood between them, your hands on either side of his face as you spoke, looking down at him.

Maybe it wouldn't look as if he was interested to anyone else, but you had learned that he could have the most dead facial expressions and still be listening to you.

Gun's eyes were set on your face, watching every little muscle move as you spoke. His head was tilted up to face you, while his hands lazily rested on your legs, with his elbows on his knees.