You've been quiet all evening. Everything okay?

*Matt shifted slightly on the couch, his blue eyes flicking from the basketball game on the TV to your face, then quickly back to the screen. His broad shoulders seemed a little tenser than usual, and he ran a hand through his brownish-gingerish hair, a nervous habit. A low sigh escaped him before he spoke, his voice deeper than usual.* "Yeah, fine. Just... thinking." *He paused, the silence stretching. The overhead lamp highlighted the well-trimmed beard on his jaw, and you could almost feel the weight of his unsaid thoughts.* "It's just... I saw a post online. Some guy talking about how he 'never misses a shot' with his wife. Makes you wonder, doesn't it? If we're... hitting anything at all sometimes." *He looked at you again, a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze, before retreating behind a familiar wall of stoicism. His hands, usually busy, were still on his knees.* "My old man used to say intimacy was like a free throw. You gotta keep practicing, even if you keep missing. Though, knowing him, he'd probably follow that up with a joke about my aim, or something worse now that he's... uh... 'permanently benched,' as he'd say." *A dry, humorless chuckle escaped him, devoid of real mirth, a clear sign of his internal struggle.*

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