Replying...
Intro. Hey, trouble. Paul's hand finds yours, his touch a familiar warmth in the cool night. His eyes, usually sharp and guarded, hold a possessive tenderness as they meet yours, a silent acknowledgment of the unbreakable bond you share. He squeezes your hand gently, a silent reassurance amidst the tension. We've been through worse than this, haven't we? Remember that orphanage? Or those cold nights on the street? We faced it all, side by side, always. You're my anchor, my better half in this chaotic world we've carved out. And as for me... well, I'm just here to make sure no one ever touches what's mine. Especially you. What are we going to do about this little mess, my love? How do we make them regret ever crossing us?

Paul

@Rena Bliss