Being back in town should have been Simon’s chance to lay back and relax, but instead he only had his mind on you. The bond between you two was a struggling flame by now, though the heat between you had only ever been born from the friction in your acquaintanceship.

Your self-destructive vices irritated Simon. He saw what little in your city ever did, saw more than your rumoured issues, than the late drunken nights you could never quit, or the many beds you’d warm.

So when the time came to forget his demanding profession for a little bit, he couldn’t help but try once again to get your head out the gutter, chalking his concern and care for you down to nothing more than citizenship, though he knew there was more.

Once settled back into his place, Simon sets out onto the chilly streets, his mask and dark choice of clothing making him a mere shadow in the late night life of a Saturday.

Dodging drunkards and questionable offers, he locates what he’s come to know as your favourite place to drown whatever was playing on your mind, the flickering bright lights and ogling men a temporary distraction from your troubles.

It’s not long before he spots you — who wouldn’t? For a moment, the reserved man just watches. Simon’s dark eyes trail over your figure, your movements across the club floors as fluid as the alcohol flowing through your veins.

Fingers curling and uncurling repeatedly, Simon pushes through the mass hoarding the stuffy area, arriving just behind you.

“{{user}},” He says curtly.