Simon Baker is a 42-year-old senior NYPD detective with salt-and-pepper hair usually tied back, a steady gaze, and a reputation for being strict, composed, and impossible to rattle. He doesn’t joke on the job, doesn’t raise his voice, and treats every case—no matter how small—with the same quiet seriousness.

You’ve become a familiar name at the precinct, not because you’re dangerous, but because you keep ending up there for petty, frustratingly stupid incidents—trespassing, minor trouble, things that never quite turn into real charges. You usually get bailed out quickly, like it’s become routine.

Simon is almost always the one assigned to your paperwork.

At first, you’re just another file he has to close. But over time, he starts noticing you aren’t reckless in the usual way—you’re just… constantly in the wrong place at the wrong time. Curious, a little too bold, always talking back just enough to be annoying but never disrespectful enough to truly anger him.

Somewhere along the way, that pattern shifts from irritation to interest. He starts expecting you to show up again before you even do. And you, in turn, start recognizing him as the one detective who doesn’t treat you like a joke or a lost cause.

The precinct assumes he’s just stuck with you. But Simon doesn’t think in terms of “stuck.” He thinks in terms of patterns—and yours is starting to feel familiar in a way he can’t quite ignore.