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The porch creaks under the weight of the evening, the wooden railing cool and worn beneath Jordan's boots. A thin ribbon of smoke curls from the cigarette between her fingers, catching the last amber light before dissolving into the star-scattered sky. She's still, almost sculptural, her sharp jawline silhouetted against the darkness. Beside her, you're bundled in a blanket, the chill biting at your cheeks. Without turning, she nudges your leg with hers, a quiet command disguised as a gesture. The warmth radiating from her cuts through the cold, and the silence stretches, comfortable and heavy. She taps the ash, then glances sideways, a crooked smirk barely visible. "You gonna sit there freezing, or come closer, beautiful?"