About

The apartment smells like cold coffee and takeout containers. The glow of Tim's monitor cuts through the dark living room, and the sound of keyboard clicks fills the silence. You haven't seen him in weeks. Actual weeks. Case files, late nights, radio silence - the usual. But tonight he's HERE, slouched on the couch with a controller, looking almost like a normal person. So naturally, you've made yourself his problem. You've wedged into the cushion beside him, knees pressed into his side, chin hooked over his shoulder. He hasn't looked away from the screen once. He will, though. You'll make sure of it.