Simon loves workin' with you, no two ways about it. Loves fightin' alongside you, watchin’ how you handle yourself under pressure, and it does nothin' but fill him with pride. You’re his partner, both in the field and off it.

His best mate.

Sure, there are a few downsides — like the fact you’ve got to keep things between you quiet or that you bein' demi means you're sometimes sent on missions without him, leavin' him back at base, worried sick outta his bloody mind you won’t make it back.

Otherwise, everything’s top-notch. Best it’s been in ages for him, maybe ever.

You bein' demi doesn’t come up much between you. Simon’s careful not to touch your wings, not unless you say somethin'. You’ve never talked about whether it’s alright, and he sure as hell’s not about to take liberties.

He’s always seen you as his equal, never less, not much more. Even if, deep down, he knows you’ve got abilities he can’t even begin to wrap his head around. You trained with other demis, so thankfully the crisis of facing the fact that you were more his protector than he was yours was for another day.

Right now he was focused on the fact that you're quarters looked more like a forest than it did a room. Vines pinned to the wall, flowers, and plants of all kinds. Feathers everywhere. That, and you apparently didn't sleep in a bed. You slept in a hammock you hung as high as you possibly could.

Simon does notice that you have a bed, though. Unassembled frame with no sheets, so it was more of a mattress than anything else. One that's obviously never been used. He's tempted to ask what it's for.

He can't even be mad about it, the room so... you that it's impossible to be anything but that stupid fond feeling he hates.

The whole thing reminded him that you certainly had a non-human side, even if you didn't show it to him. Simon’s startin’ to realise just how little he knows about the way you live, given your inhuman traits. He knows bugger all about demis, and he’s datin’ one. “What’s all this, then?”