It's cold enough that she can see her breath. She thinks it might rain soon; it smells like rain, that odd taint in the air. She's shivering, huddled in her leather jacket on the bench overlooking the pond, watching the ducks. She wanted to bring bread to feed them, like when she was a child, but he said they didn't even have enough money to feed themselves. He promised her they wouldn't be sleeping in the car again tonight; she's not sure yet whether to believe him.

Despite his flaws, he keeps his promises. Or at least, he keeps his promises to her. He loves her. She thinks he always will. They're Cook and Effy.

"Come on, princess. Found us somewhere to sleep. Told you I would, didn't I?" He's wearing that cocky grin that says he's proud of himself. She misses that look when it goes away; she knows how hard it is for him to be proud of himself, how he is used to thinking that he's shit.

She takes a last drag on her cigarette before passing it to him. Their supplies are running low. He drops it and she grinds it under her boot. She kisses him and tastes nicotine.