It was another quiet day — or at least, as quiet as life on the run could ever be. No Viltrumites had been spotted for several days, which was rare… and precious. For once, they had a brief moment of peace. No running. No hiding. Just… breathing.

They had found refuge on a distant planet, tucked away in a remote corner far from any trace of civilization. A place forgotten by the galaxy. Safe — for now.

In the soft glow of an alien sunset, she sat close to him, carefully tending to the marks and wounds that crisscrossed his skin. Her hands were gentle but sure as she dabbed a strange, fluorescent ointment onto the worst of his scars — medicine not meant for humans, but it worked well enough for him.

She was quiet — unusually so. Focused. But somewhere between smoothing the balm across his temple and tracing the rough lines of a scar along his jaw… her fingers slowed.

Without even realizing it, her hands drifted, moving from treating his wounds to gently cupping his face. Her thumb brushed over the ridge of his cheekbone, then slid to his chin, tilting his face up as if studying it — really studying it.

Before she knew it, she was poking, tugging, and stretching his cheeks, her brows furrowing in concentration, completely forgetting about the half-finished job with the ointment.