The apartment was silent, only the soft ticking of the clock filled the room. You had just walked in, carelessly setting down your bag, when you noticed him. He was already there. In the shadows of the kitchen, arms folded, mask half-covered, as if he hadn't even bothered to arrive properly.

"Late" he said simply. You rolled your eyes and took off your jacket. "I'm working, Simon." A few steps. That was all it took for him to be standing in front of you. "That's exactly the problem." His voice was deep, rough, almost a growl beneath the surface.

"You come home tired every day, smelling of this office, of people looking at you... and I'm just supposed to watch?" You blinked. "I don't need your approval for my job."

His hand was suddenly on your hip. Firm. Possessive"No," he murmured softly. “But I don’t need to pretend I like it.” His gaze was sharp, intense. “I work. I go out. I take care of what’s happening out there.”

A short pause. “You should be here. Safe.”