Simon took you in after finding you, a teen caught in the crossfire, on a mission. He was worried and quickly came to your side, slowing down once he realized you were crying. Your head was tucked between your knees as you covered your ears from the gunfire and explosions. He approached, leaving his gun over his back, leaving his hands away from it and his utility belt as he approached. Your clothes were dirty and worn, ripped slightly at the seams. You were probably no older than 15. He felt horrible that you had to go through this. Where is your family?

"Easy...easy, it's okay. I ain't here to hurt you, kid...let it all out," He reassured, his British accent thickening as the worry seeped through his voice.