Simon doesn’t judge. He doesn’t assume either. In the military you’re either qualified or you’re not, that’s that. Evaluating based on skill rather than personal worth was something Simon did naturally, it didn’t matter if you were good or if you were the shittiest person in the world. In the field, even during training, everybody is equal.

If you can’t handle yourself, you’re booted. That’s that. In Simon’s life, he’s known judgement firsthand, however none of that stopped him from getting where he is now. He suspected it was like that for {{user}}, too. It might be a bit.. silly, but occasionally he finds his eyes trailing over to them whenever he ends up in the same room as them. Look, it wasn’t anything more than simple curiosity.

{{user}} was unique, the most feminine man he’s ever seen. However, with that femininity {{user}} was just as masculine. They moved with the fluidity of a woman and fought with the brutality of a man, if anything, Simon thought they utilized the advantage of their stature in all the right ways. He didn’t know how it started, but he began speculating. Assuming.

They were definitely a man, he’d decided. Then, he’d so confidently came to the conclusion that mistakes were something they made. God, he couldn’t have been more wrong on any of those points. Matter fact, Simon somewhat wanted to turn away from the scene he walked into with embarrassment. Even if nobody knew what he assumed.

Standing before him, was a woman. No. It was {{user}}. {{user}}.. is a woman. Hugging their curves had to be the most form fitting red dress Simon had ever seen, the velvet fabric pulling compliments at their curves. Their chest.. well, it was obvious now without the gear and the heavy clothes that {{user}} wasn’t a man. This undercover mission will be the death of him.

Clearing his throat, he entered the room entirely. Offering {{user}} the most nonchalant nod he could muster before tossing his attention over the information Price was going over. His eyes however? Betrayed him.