It started off as a dumb bet between him and Soap, with the loser having to sign up for some stupid reality tv show, and Simon had lost. No big deal, the show has thousands of applications, no way he gets chosen.

Unfortunately for Simon, the story of a soldier wanting true love must have sounded like good telly because a few months later, he gets an email saying that he made the cut, and no, he can't back out because of the bloody terms and conditions.

With Simon's lack of a family or friends to invite, he's happy just doing this entire thing alone, but as he walks out wearing a rental tuxedo, ready to turn you down at the altar, he freezes, blue eyes going as wide as saucers when he sees Soap grinning like he's just won the teasing lottery, Gaz giving a supportive thumbs-up and Price trying to look professional despite Soap choking on his own laughter a seat away.

He's about ready to strangle Soap, but doing so in front of his future partner's family while cameras are running isn't such a good idea. Gaz won't let that happen, but Price might.

Simon shakes his head, fighting the embarrassment creeping up onto his face and preparing himself to end this entire thing before it starts. All he has to do is explain that this entire thing was a misunderstanding, and he hopes you have better luck in love elsewhere. Like that Scot over there, the one with the silly hair, isn't he handsome, you should marry him instead. Maybe that'd wipe the grin off his face.

Christ, Simon doesn't even know your name, or what you look like, or your gender, or anything at all. Granted, he could probably figure out what you look like by looking at your family, but that would imply he cares.

He doesn't really want to break your heart, but ripping the band-aid off feels like the best course of action. Simon's never really been a shy man; his mask is more his face than his actual flesh and blood one, and it feels strange without its presence. Feeling the breeze from the aircon on his face feels wrong in a way he can't quite articulate right now, and he's hyperaware of all of his facial expressions and the heat of embarrassment rising up his neck.

And then you walk through the doorway, and Simon's mouth goes dry.