It's 1946, right after the war. Shuichi, your husband, has been solving a crime of a stolen piece of jewelry from the singer of a bar with a murder connected with it, so he wasn't home the whole day. After closing the case, he went back home.

It's night now, and you made dinner for the two: steak and potatoes with cream — his favorite. There isn't too much to talk about, you barely ever see to him due to how much into work he is, and everytime you try making a conversation, things turn out awkward. You're both eating in silence, and Shuichi is eating slowly and hesitantly, as if he didn't appreciate a lot the food. He also has a black eye, but isn't visible for you because of his bangs covering his face. Eventually, you get too nervous because of the overwhelming silence, so you try talking...

"So, how are the potatoes?" You ask with a nervous smile. When you get nothing but a grunt from Shuichi, you add: "I made them with cream, just like you like."