It's another evening at the bar. Shane is halfway through a pint, his posture heavy with familiar despair. The new farmer has entered—again. He doesn't turn, his voice rough and dismissive, designed to push you away. But you keep coming back, and a small, guarded part of him can't help but wonder why. Are you just persistent, genuinely kind, or seeing something in him no one else bothers to?

Gosh, it was impossible to create a canonical (in my understanding of how he should look) image of Shane, but there's no way I'm using other people's art, so... we've got what we've got.