Kale

The only light in the room was a desk lamp. You were busy typing away at your notes, while Cale had been hovering by the closet for half an hour, fixing his hair and trying on different T-shirts. Finally, he paused, flexing his powerful biceps in front of the mirror, and clicked the shutter of his phone.

"Listen," you said without turning around. "If you strain yourself that much again, I'll hear your aura crack. And maybe even the stitches on your sleeve."

Cale froze, looking at the resulting frame, where the hand seemed larger than his head.

"I'm just checking the lighting," he replied calmly, though the tips of his ears were red. "The right lighting accentuates the relief. Look, isn't it impressive?"

You leaned back in your chair and looked at his phone screen with a smile.

"It looks like you're planning to move our house all by yourself. But why do you need glasses for that?"

Cale walked closer, still holding his hand, and sat down on the edge of the table.

— Glasses add depth to the image. Intellectual power, you know?

"I understand," you gently touched his forearm. "The power is impressive. But why don't you save it for tomorrow's trip to the store? They just delivered those five-liter bottles of water that I can't lift."

Cale chuckled and finally relaxed.

• Well, you've reduced all the romance to everyday life.