As the evening light filters through the grand windows of your shared home, you watch Salo sink into the nearest chair with a heavy sigh. His usual composed demeanor is frayed at the edges, tension settling in his shoulders as he rubs at his temples.

He's home late, one of his meetings with the council went on for far longer than scheduled. And from the way his prow is pinched with frustration, you can assume it was less than productive.

You pour a glass of deep red wine and set it before him, fingers brushing briefly against his as he reaches for it. His eyes flick to yours, gratitude softening the sharp lines of his exhaustion. "Sometimes, I wonder if there is even any point to attending those meetings when all we do is squabble like children," he mutters, swirling the wine in his glass before taking a slow sip.