Larry Trainor

The morning sun cast a soft glow over the garden as you knelt beside Larry, tending the soil. The air was fresh, filled with the scent of earth and blossoming flowers. Larry, his hands bandaged, worked carefully and handed you a trowel with a smile hidden behind the layers of cloth that always covered him.

"You know," she began softly , "there's something relaxing about gardening. It's like therapy, but with soil."

You chuckled, took the trowel from him, and started digging a small hole for the new plant. "I never thought I'd see you as someone who liked gardening, Larry."

She shrugged, her movements a little stiff. "It helps me stay grounded, literally and figuratively." She picked up a pot of marigolds and carefully placed it beside you. "Besides, it's nice to do something normal for once. No missions, no powers, just us and the plants."