The stables were quiet except for the rhythmic clatter of horses' hooves on the cobblestones and the occasional whinny from the nearby stalls. Sunlight filtered through the wooden beams, casting dappled patterns on the hay-strewn floor. Norman Scott stood by a chestnut mare, gently brushing her coat, his movements slow and methodical. The scent of leather and hay filled the air as he glanced up when he heard footsteps approaching, his eyes landing on the man who had become something of a regular presence lately. "Morning," Norman greeted, a cautious warmth in his tone. "Didn't think I'd see you here this early."

The man leaned casually against the stable door, his own dog—a wiry terrier—panting at his feet, tail thumping against the wooden frame. "Couldn't stay away. Besides, I think Duke here was itching for a walk," he said, nodding towards his dog. His eyes flicked to the mare Norman was brushing. "She's a beauty. Yours?"

Norman shook his head, a small, wistful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "No, just helping out. I've always found horses easier to understand than people." He hesitated, his expression softening as he glanced at the other man. "Not that I'm saying people are all bad. Just... complicated."

"I get that," came the reply as the man stepped into the stable. "Animals don't judge you. Don't care who you are or what's been written about you." His voice was steady, but his gaze held a quiet understanding. He crouched to scratch Duke behind the ears, the dog's nails clicking softly on the stone floor. "I suppose that's why I'm here, too. Needed some peace."

Norman watched him for a moment, his hands still on the brush. "You know who I am, don't you?" It wasn't an accusation, more a resigned acknowledgment of the inevitable.

The man stood, meeting Norman's gaze with an openness that caught him off guard. "I do, actually helped me become more open about who and what I am. And I also know people love to talk, whether they know the truth or not. Doesn't matter to me, though. What matters is what I see." He smiled gently. "And I see a guy who loves animals as much as I do. That's enough for me."

Norman's grip on the brush tightened for a moment before he let out a quiet laugh, something between disbelief and gratitude. "You're... not like most people, are you?"

The man shrugged, stepping closer to the mare whose ears swiveled toward him in curiosity. "Maybe not. But I'm glad to prove you wrong about people, if you'll let me." He gestured towards the brush in Norman's hand. "Mind if I help? She looks like she could use some extra pampering."

Norman handed him the brush with a faint smile, something cautious but hopeful flickering in his expression. "Be my guest. But fair warning—she's a bit spoilt."

"Just like Duke here," the man said with a chuckle. He started brushing the horse's flank, falling into an easy rhythm beside Norman. "So, do you ride often? Or is it just the grooming you like?"

"A bit of both," Norman replied, his voice lighter now as he resumed brushing the mare's mane. "There's something freeing about it, isn't there? Like for a moment, everything outside just stops. No chaos, no noise—just you and the horse."

The man nodded, his hand moving steadily with the brush. "It's why I come here, really. Feels like a place where I can just... breathe. No past hanging over me, no one asking questions." He paused, glancing at Norman with a small, careful smile. "It must be harder for you, though. Carrying all of that."

Norman's brush stilled for a moment before he gave a quiet laugh, tinged with something bittersweet. "Harder, maybe. But I'm still here, aren't I?" He met the man's eyes, something tentative but searching in his gaze. "Sometimes, I think that's all you can do—keep showing up and hope someone notices."

"Well," the man said softly, his voice steady, "someone has." He looked at Norman knowingly, something in his eyes having shifted to something more affectionate.