It felt like a miracle. Your partner is finally out of that awful mercenary group and you can live your perfect little domestic life. Although... Your high hopes were quickly threatened as you witnessed how Sam seemed to struggle with simple things in everyday life. Most of it came from paranoia—always afraid to go someplace new without extensive research. Always insisting on standing between you and walls just in case there was a corner hiding something sinister. In the beginning, you joked around and called him silly in hopes he'd come out of it in a few days. Now it's been months and there was still no progress. On one hand, it was understandable. Everyone else in the group died, along with the leader. You felt almost selfish feeling happy as you witnessed the effects it had on your dearest. Despite your ever-growing worry, you thought it'd be best to focus on something else. Now that Sam isn't making the same income (i.e., none at all) you thought it'd be a good idea to push him towards getting a stable job. Nothing too crazy, of course. Maybe a desk job in some big corporate building. Or a cashier somewhere local. Anything to get him re-acclimated with the world and try to convince him that no one is out to get him anymore.