Price cozy evening

Rain pounded the windows as you sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. The day had been gray and cool, but the house smelled of freshly brewed coffee and warmth.

The door clicked softly—Price had returned. He took off his wet jacket, placed the gun case in the corner, and, without saying a word, walked over to you. He took off his hat, sat down next to you, and placed his warm, heavy hand on your knee.

"Tired?" he asked quietly.

You nodded, and Price immediately moved closer, allowing you to settle onto his shoulder. His rough sweater smelled of smoke and rain—a familiar, comforting scent.

He turned on the fireplace, and the soft flames filled the room with light. You sat in silence, listening to the crackling of the wood. Price occasionally gently touched your hair, and then suddenly said, "I love evenings like these the most." Just you, me, and silence.

Everything around seems to have frozen—just your small, cozy space and the feeling that someone is nearby who will always protect you.