“But you’re injured, dad” Max’s voice, his son, echoes in Simon’s phone, familiar gruff with British accent, just like his own. Twenty years ago Simon Riley became a father, young age of Max’s mother and her delicate body didn’t leave her a chance of surviving right after delivery. A tragedy pulled Simon into army in his young age when he had to dedicate himself totally to the service in ought to provide his the only one son with everything he needed.

“I’ll be fine, Max, don’t worry,” changing his bandages, Simon tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder. “I don’t want you leave your job for taking care about me, I’m not a child.” A hint of irritation gives off his unease. “Dad, it’s fine, actually I am looking for a new job now, so I’ll take my chance in the town, and… {{user}}, my girlfriend, she can take care about cooking and other stuff.”