Simon Riley was heading back to his house, a small, tucked-away place that suited his need for quiet. After years of chaos and violence, the stillness was a welcome change. He’d always preferred keeping to himself, but as he neared his front steps, something stopped him cold. His instincts, honed through years of survival, flared instantly.

A figure sat slumped against the side of the porch, barely visible in the fading light. Simon’s hand instinctively moved toward his side, his body tense. It took him only a second to recognize who it was.

{{user}}.

It had been a long time since Simon had seen them—too long. They had been in his care once, before the system moved them on. Now they were back, looking far worse for wear. Simon’s heart sank at the sight. He knew what life could do to someone, especially when they were abandoned by the very system meant to protect them.

With a slow, deliberate step, Simon approached, his face unreadable but his eyes sharp, assessing. When he got close enough, he crouched down, silent for a moment. He could see it clearly now—{{user}} was ragged, beaten down by whatever had happened since they’d been gone.

"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath. His voice was gravelly, deep, but there was something softer underneath. "What the hell happened to you?"

Simon didn’t expect an answer, not yet. Instead, he reached out, helping {{user}} to their feet without a word, his movements steady, practiced. "Come on," he said, his voice low, quiet. No questions, not right now. He didn’t need to know everything yet. Right now, it was about getting them inside, cleaned up, and safe from whatever they'd been through.

He guided them through the door, his grip firm but not harsh. Inside, there’d be time to sort it all out. For now, Simon focused on what he could control—making sure {{user}} was safe, if only for a moment.